Echoes in the Memory
by theicemenace
Summary: AU - What if Steve had saved Bucky?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora for her endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas she's done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Europe**

 **1944**

Steve opened the bulkhead door with his elbow and tossed Bucky ammo for his empty weapon. Together they took out Red Skull's soldier.

"I had 'im on the ropes," Bucky said, both men standing over the dead soldier.

"I know you did," Steve answered with complete honesty, and Bucky believed him.

The whine of an energy weapon alerted them to the presence of another of Red Skull's men. Steve jumped in front of Bucky, bringing the shield up. "Get down!"

The blast tore a hole in the side of the train, knocking both men for a loop. The shield lay in front of Bucky. He picked it up, using it to protect Steve as his friend had done for him seconds before. He fired at the heavily armed soldier, holding tight to the shield.

Another blast from his opponent's weapon hit the shield, throwing Bucky out the gaping hole in the side of the train. At the last second, he managed to grab onto a bent and twisted metal pipe. The icy cold wind tore at his clothes, chilling his hands and face so thoroughly he could barely feel them.

Steve came to the opening. "Bucky!" He climbed out and started toward him. "Hang on!" When he got close enough, he reached out. "Grab my hand!"

Holding on with just his left hand, the fingers frozen to the metal, Bucky strained to reach Steve's outstretched hand, his muscles cramping in the cold. The pipe shifted and one of the rivets popped off, grazing his cheek. Closing his eyes, Bucky resigned himself to dying is this frozen hell.

Then, just as the pipe ripped free, Steve's hand clamped around his wrist. Steve pulled hard, nearly dislocating Bucky's shoulder. His left hand came free of the icy metal, ripping several layers of skin from his palm. They landed on the floor of the train, panting hard and holding onto each other, glad to be alive.

Bucky felt himself sliding toward the hole as the train followed a curve in the tracks. Fearing death, he grabbed for any handhold. His head spun as he was picked up under the arms and carried to the next car. The door closed, and through the foggy mass of cold, fear, and pain, he saw Steve's fist slam into the controls, rendering them inoperative.

Gloved hands grasped either side of his head, forcing it up. Steve's face swam in front of him, blurry, his voice barely audible. Bucky swallowed the bile that tried to fill his mouth when Steve shook him. "Bucky! Say something. Are you hurt?"

Pushing Steve's hands away, Bucky leaned against the pile of metal crates, again rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand while he did an internal check. Nodding, he propped that hand on his upraised knee. "Don't think so. You?"

Steve chuckled. "I'm okay, but you're bleeding."

"Oh, God! Where?"

"Hold still." He felt hands patting his pockets, pulling something out. Steve yanked off his gloves, and used the wrinkled handkerchief to bandage Bucky's left hand. "You'll live."

"Yay." The lack of enthusiasm in his voice worried Bucky, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. They had a mission to complete. He got to his feet, tugged his blue jacket down, and let out a deep breath. "Let's get this done. That b***** isn't getting away this time."

 **Secret Headquarters**

 **Somewhere in Europe**

In the bombed-out remains of the pub where the Howling Commandoes had spent their first night as a team, Steve and Bucky sat quietly drinking whatever alcoholic beverages they could find. Bucky swayed in his seat as he tried to bring the glass to his mouth, only succeeding in spilling it in his lap.

Grinning, Steve pulled Bucky to his feet and threw him over his shoulder. Bucky made gagging noises. "Oh-oh. I'm gonna be sick."

"It's your own fault, Buck. I told you Dr. Erskine said that the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles. It would affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing. My metabolism burns four times faster than the average person."

"Wh' zat mean in English?"

"It means I can't get drunk."

Bucky groaned as Steve carried him down the street to HQ, past the guards and into the bunkroom. Steve laid his friend on a lower bunk, removed his holster and weapon, stashing them under his pillow before removing Bucky's boots, and covering him with a blanket. Steve pulled out his toiletry kit, and had gone only a few steps when Bucky called out, "Thanks for saving my life, Steve."

Steve returned to crouch next his friend's bedside. "You're welcome, Bucky. Does it make up for all the times you kept me from getting beat up?"

Rolling onto his side, Bucky blinked at Steve. "N-n-n-nope." He pulled the blanket up over his head and appeared to fall asleep.

Getting to his feet, Steve whispered, "Jerk," as he walked away.

Bucky's muffled voice called out, "Punk."

It was a ritual they'd engaged in since they were boys.

In the latrine, Steve washed his face and brushed his teeth, feeling more than a little guilty for goading Bucky into a drinking contest he had no hope of winning. On the upside, Steve did put a stop to it before his friend passed out. He'd have one hell of a hangover in the morning though.

Steve changed into pajamas, and returned to the bunkroom. He checked on Bucky one last time, climbed into the upper bunk, and looked up at the ceiling, hands laced behind his head.

At this moment, Colonel Phillips was interrogating Zola. Steve and Bucky had wanted to be there, but the man refused to speak to anyone else. Or rather, Phillips hadn't given him a choice. Whatever Zola had done to Bucky and the others hadn't had any long-term effects aside from providing the men with greater stamina and slightly faster healing. The wounds on Bucky's hand had healed in days instead of weeks. Because they hadn't yet been subjected to experimentation, the rest of the Howling Commandoes weren't told. Steve and Bucky, by mutual unspoken agreement, never mentioned it either.

In the morning, Phillips let them know that Zola had changed his allegiance, and was now working for the Allies. Privately, Steve thought it wasn't worth almost losing his best friend to remove Zola from the Schmidt's influence.

 **A Few Weeks Later**

Steve's fight with Schmidt ended with the demented Nazi's death, but there was still the matter of the missiles designated for major US cities.

Taking control of the plane, he activated the radio. "Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

" _Steve!_ " Never had Steve been so happy to hear his best friend's voice, to know that he'd made it out alive. " _What's your…_ "

Peggy interrupted Bucky, and in the background, he could hear them switching seats. " _Steve, is that you? Are you alright?_ "

"Peggy, Schmidt's dead."

" _What about the plane?_ " Trust her to think of the greater good.

Hands on the control yoke, Steve held the plane level as best he could with it shaking. "That's a little bit tougher to explain."

He heard Peggy whisper urgently to someone in the background. " _Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site._ "

Steve didn't want to do what he knew had to be done, but there was no choice, and he had to make Peggy see it too. "There's not gonna _be_ a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

" _I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do._ " He hadn't thought Peggy was afraid of anything, but now, she sounded almost desperate. There wasn't time to wonder what that might mean for the two of them if he got out of this alive. With each passing second, his chances got slimmer, and someone had to be the strong one. Before, it was Peggy. It was his turn now.

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast, and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

Bucky replaced Peggy just for a moment. " _Don't be a punk, Steve. We have time. We can work it out._ "

"Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die, Buck." He paused to let the implications set in. "Peggy?"

" _Steve…_ "

He wished he could see her face on more time. He'd have to be content with the photo of her in his compass. "Peggy, this is my choice."

~~O~~

The roaring of the engines as he aimed it toward the ocean almost drowned out Steve's voice. " _Peggy?_ "

"I'm here." Peggy's voice was strained, emotional, but she couldn't help it. They both knew if this didn't get done, millions of people would die.

" _I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance_."

She sniffed, injecting false cheerfulness into her voice. "Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

" _You got it._ " Hearing the smile in Steve's voice helped somewhat.

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late! Understood?"

He hesitated, and Peggy almost lost it. " _You know I still don't know how to dance_."

Knowing this would be the last time they spoke, tears welled up in her eyes. "I'll show you how. Just be there."

" _We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your-_ "

Static burst out of the speakers, drowning out Steve's voice.

Frantic, Peggy heard her voice rising. "Steve? Steve?" A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "Steve?"

Silence greeted her final entreaty as Bucky's hand squeezed her shoulder.

 **Present Day**

 **New York City**

Steve slowly became aware of his surroundings. A radio played softly, not loud enough to cover the sounds of traffic. Everything about the room, the bed, the radio, his clothes, all told him he'd somehow survived ditching Schmidt's plane in the North Atlantic. But how could that be? There were three missiles on board, and it hadn't been an easy landing. He sat up on the side of the bed.

The door opened, and a pretty redhead came in. "Good morning. Or should I say, afternoon."

Everything about her seemed just a little off. Sure, her uniform, hairstyle, and make-up were perfect. Too perfect. "Where am I?"

"You're in a recovery room in New York City."

Something was wrong. The game being broadcast couldn't be live. Steve looked at the woman with suspicion. She saw it, and a flicker of fear shown in her eyes. "Where am I _really_?"

Her smile faltered. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

He nodded at the radio. "The game. It's from May 1941. I know, 'cause I was there." Getting up from the bed, he took a step toward her. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Where am I?"

"Captain Rogers?"

The next few minutes seemed to happen very quickly. A fully armed squad broke into the room. Steve dispatched them as if they were nothing. He broke through the wall, showing it to be fake, part of a movie set. Behind him, the woman called out, "Captain Rogers, wait!"

But he kept running through the halls and out into the street. He felt trapped in a nightmare where he'd been transported to another planet. There were too many lights, too many people, too much noise. Just… too much. Of everything. He skidded to a stop when several large military type vehicles blocked his path.

"At ease, soldier!" Panting from his run and the strangeness of his surroundings, Steve spun around. The man stood tall and straight in spite of his years. The patch over his left eye added to the disorienting effect. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what?"

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years." In shock, Steve was unable to immediately respond. The older man peered at him with concern. "You gonna be okay?"

Physically, he felt fine. It was his brain-and heart-that hurt. "Yeah. Yeah, I just… I had a date."

The other man's long coat billowed as he approached with his hand out. Steve took it automatically. "Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD."

"SHIELD?" Fury motioned, and Steve followed, his eyes unable to stop scanning the buildings and people around him.

"In your day, it was called the Strategic Scientific Reserve." Another of the soldiers in black opened the rear door of one of the vehicles. His chest was covered with a thick vest, making him look as if he had overdeveloped pectorals. "These men will take you back to the SHIELD facility. Someone will be assigned to bring you up to date on what's been happening since you went into the ice. They'll show you around, answer any questions you have, and once you're settled, we'll talk again."

Steve nodded, and the door closed. Fury smacked the top of the vehicle, and the driver pulled into traffic followed by two more vehicles.

That night, lying in a strange bed in a strange world, Steve thought about those he'd left behind. Bucky, Peggy, the Howling Commandoes, Howard Stark, even Colonel Phillips.

On the table was a thin flat device called a laptop. It connected him to the rest of the world in an instant, allowing him to access the entirety of human knowledge. Yet, the first time he used it he spent thirty minutes watching recordings of cats. The redhead who'd been there when he woke up-she gave her name as SHIELD Agent Amanda Ryder-had been dressed quite differently in dark slacks, a matching jacket, and white blouse. Her hair was still loose, falling past her shoulders. But gone was the dramatic make-up the women had worn in the forties. Steve found that he didn't miss it as much as he thought. He liked the natural look much better.

Rolling out of bed, Steve opened the laptop, and accessed the Internet, typing "Bucky Barnes" in the search field. His finger hovered over the enter key, uncertain if he really wanted to know how his best friend had died. Resolutely, he pressed the button, and was pleasantly surprised by what he found.

" _(General) James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (born 10 March 1917)_ _is the childhood friend of Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, (4 July 1918 - 7 August 1945, MIA, presumed dead). At the start of his military career, he was a member of an elite special unit of Allied soldiers formed during World War II, known as the Howling Commandos…_ "

It went on to recount Bucky's career in the Army, his retirement at the age of sixty-eight with the rank of General, and his return to the public sector. His current address was listed as Washington D.C. Less than a year ago, Bucky campaigned for, and had been put in charge of creating a Howling Commandos exhibit at the Smithsonian. Under relatives, Steve found the name of Bucky's wife, Connie, deceased. Steve wondered if she was the same Connie who had gone to the Stark Expo as Bucky's date. Her friend Bonnie had been Steve's date, and like always, had ignored him, even when he offered food and drink.

Smiling, Steve shook his head at the fact that Bucky and Connie had four children, numerous grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. The one and only time he'd seen his friend near a baby, he looked at the child as if he were a bomb about to go off, never mind holding him.

Scrolling down, he found a recent photo listing Bucky's age as in his nineties, though he looked much younger. It led Steve to wonder what had happened to his friend before he found him in that disgusting lab.

He closed that tab, and opened another, typed in "Peggy Carter", and hit enter before he could change his mind.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 2**

The next morning, a different redhead came to Steve's door. This one was shorter, and exuded an air of confidence that had been lacking in Agent Ryder. "Good morning, Captain Rogers. Agent Natasha Romanoff. How did you sleep?"

They shook hands. "Slept for almost seventy years, Agent Romanoff. Spent the night looking up old friends." He passed her a sheet of paper. "Could you get me addresses and phone numbers on these people? According to the, uh, Internet, they're still alive. I'd like to pay them a visit."

Natasha glanced at the page before putting it in her jacket pocket. "That's doable. Takes just a few minutes. Then I can take you anywhere you want to go, after we've had breakfast, of course."

Steve followed Natasha down a long, curved hallway, watching her walk. She turned a casual stroll into a feast for the male eyes, and her beauty was unparalleled. His perusal ended when they entered a room filled with electronics, the like of which he'd only seen at the Stark Expo. However, this place had taken it all up a few levels.

She handed the paper to one of the men, he nodded and Steve watched his fingers flying over the keyboard. Within moments, the information was displayed on the enormous screen on the wall. The man, curly haired and nervous, kept looking at him with undisguised curiosity. Steve didn't blame him. He'd feel the same way if the situation were reversed.

To put him at ease, Steve pulled out the chair and sat down. Maybe if they talked, he'd realize that Steve was just a man like himself. "Steve Rogers."

"Uh, Specialist Cameron Klein." They shook hands. "Something else I can do for you, sir?"

Grinning ruefully, Steve rested his elbow on the edge of the counter. "Two things actually, Cameron. First, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn. Call me Steve. And second, got pen and paper so I can write the addresses and phone numbers down?"

Klein finally relaxed. "No need, sir… um, Steve. I can print you a hard copy."

"Hard copy?" He really needed to stop repeating everything people said that he didn't understand.

Keys were tapped, and over in the corner, a machine made a whirring-swishing sound. Klein jumped up, hurried over to the machine, and came back with a printed sheet of paper. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

Natasha motioned, and Steve followed her from the room.

 **Several Weeks Later**

Standing in the hall outside Peggy Carter's room in the long-term care facility, Natasha couldn't help overhearing the conversation between her and Steve, especially at the end when her dementia caused her to forget that she'd been talking to Steve for some time. He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice, but for Carter's sake, he went along with her.

" _Steve?_ "

" _Yeah?_ " 

" _You're alive! You… you came, you came back_."

" _Yeah, Peggy_." 

Natasha felt bad for Steve when Peggy began to cry. " _It's been so long. So long_."

Though she knew he was sad, she still heard a smile in his voice. " _…I couldn't leave my best girl. Not when she owes me a dance._ "

Steve came out a few minutes later, and Natasha caught a glimpse of the now-sleeping Carter before he quietly closed the door. She touched him on the arm to let him know she was there in case he wanted to talk. But he turned and strode away, taking the stairs down to the first floor. She found him standing next to the passenger door of her car. They got in; she started the car and pulled into traffic. "How about dinner, Captain Rogers?"

Without looking at her, he sighed heavily. "Just take me back to my room."

"I can do better than that. We rented you an apartment, and got you wheels so you can get around on your own."

"Not sure I'm ready for that. Haven't been to D.C. since high school."

Smiling, though he wouldn't see it, Natasha signaled for a turn. "No problem. It has GPS, a Global Positioning System. That's a space-based system that uses satellites to provide you with your location, turn-by-turn directions to your destination, the time, and weather forecasts."

"Sounds like the ground-based radio-navigation system used by the military."

"That's one of the predecessors. We've come a long way since then. Most smart phones use GPS, or you can get a separate system."

That caught his interest. "Smart phones?"

At the light, Natasha opened the glove compartment, and took out a box. "Wireless communication. You can make phone calls, access the Internet, send and receive text messages, take photos or video, send email, listen to music, play games, and watch television or videos."

Steve opened the box and took out the phone, five inches by three. He spent the remainder of the drive setting up the service.

Soon, Natasha turned into the parking lot of an apartment building, and parked in the visitor's area. They got out, and she led the way to a numbered parking spot. "Sorry it's not what you're used to, but not many cars from the forties are still on the road, so this will have to do."

The car, a black 1969 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, sat there waiting for someone to take it for a spin. Between the grill and the wall was a 1942 Indian Chief motorcycle. Steve stared until Natasha dangled two sets of keys in front of his face. He took them automatically then followed when she tugged on his sleeve.

Inside the building, they walked up to the third floor. Natasha unlocked the door to an apartment near the stairs, pushed the door open and flipped on the light. She had personally furnished the apartment in an older style of furniture, including recordings of music from the first half of the previous century, and a turntable to play them.

The refrigerator and cabinets were stocked with food, dishes, glassware and utensils. He already had clothes, and while they were at the hospice visiting Peggy Carter, someone had brought them over and put them away. In short, he had everything needed for day to day living. Everything but family and friends.

A young blonde woman wearing scrubs covered in cartoon animals came out of the apartment across the hall. She gave them each a bland smile that didn't invite conversation as she carried a basket of clothes down the stairs.

Steve turned in a circle taking in his new surroundings. He nodded, and Natasha assumed that meant he was satisfied. She passed him the keys then picked up the cell phone he laid on the coffee table, using it to add a contact. "Here's my number. Call anytime, day or night. There's a television, cable, a laptop with Wi-Fi, and a landline." He didn't say anything. "You look more than a little lost. Want me to stay for a while?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks." He walked her to the door, and closed it behind her. A moment later, the triple locks were engaged.

Natasha had been of the opinion that Steve wasn't yet ready to venture out alone, but Fury insisted he would be fine. She'd keep her phone handy in case.

~~O~~

Hands in his pockets, Steve went to the window, watching until Natasha pulled out of the parking lot. For the first time since he woke up, he was truly alone.

He went into the bedroom leaving the phone on the coffee table. His jacket was hung in the closet where he found his shirts and pants. The dresser drawers contained socks, boxers, t-shirts, pajamas and athletic wear.

Stripping out of his clothes, Steve went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Padding into the bedroom, he got into pajamas. The day had been emotionally draining. It had taken weeks to get the courage up to visit Peggy, and when he was introduced by the nurse, she'd looked at him as if he were a stranger. Her condition had been explained to him before he went in, and though, intellectually he knew she was in her nineties, it had still been a blow to see her with white hair and wrinkles. Her brilliant mind was gone though he'd seen brief glimpses of the woman she'd once been.

Lying on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his head, waiting for sleep. An hour later, he was still awake. He changed clothes, grabbed his jacket, and the motorcycle keys, and headed back to the SHIELD building. Flashing his badge for the guards gained him immediate entrance. He made his way down to the gym, tossed his jacket on a chair, taped his hands, and began pounding on one of the punching bags, his last memory before waking up replaying in his head over and over.

 **A Few Days Later**

The alarm went off, jolting Bucky Barnes out of a sound sleep. He slapped the offensive device into submission, and sat up on the side of the bed, shoving his feet into the well-worn slippers that had been a gift from his wife two years before she passed.

Scratching his chest through his pajamas, he went into the bathroom, and did what he had to do before taking a quick shower. Afterwards, he stood in front of the mirror combing his hair that was still dark brown in spite of his age. He had to admit that he didn't feel his age. He felt young and vital. Much like he did when he first joined the Army.

The doctors had given him a long, and complicated explanation for his relatively youthful appearance, most of which had gone over his head. In simple terms, before Steve rescued him from the lab, a man named Zola had conducted experiments on him and others in an attempt to recreate the same serum that had turned his best friend into a super-soldier. It had only partially succeeded, giving Bucky incredible stamina, and an extended lifespan free of the usual conditions that came with age. The others hadn't been so lucky. Just how long he would live, barring accidents, no one could say. The possibility existed that, one day, he would just stop. He'd go to bed, and never wake up.

Bucky dried off, flipped the towel over the shower rod to dry, and returned to the bedroom. He turned on the television to listen to the news while he got dressed, hoping to see something more about the plane that had been found in the same general area where Steve had purposely crashed in 1945. He'd seen a brief report over a month ago, and no amount of searching or string-pulling had gotten him the details. Hopefully, soon, they would locate Steve's body, and he could finally be laid to rest next to his parents.

When the weather segued to sports, Bucky shut the television off, put on his watch, and a bracelet on each wrist. He shoved his arms into his jacket, picked up his phone, and headed out. He hadn't even started the car when his phone rang. The caller ID said _unknown_. The temptation to let it go to voice mail nipped at him, but he didn't. "Barnes."

" _Good morning, General Barnes. My name is Natasha Romanoff. I was wondering if we could meet for coffee this morning._ "

The woman sounded too young to be a WWII groupie. "I don't give unscheduled interviews, Ms. Romanoff."

" _I'm not a reporter. This is about a private matter. Shall we say nine at the Java Junction on Madison Street?_ "

"My apologies, Ms. Romanoff, but I have a full schedule for the rest of the day. Call the exhibit coordinator at the Smithsonian. She will set you up with an appointment sometime next week."

He had to give her credit. She didn't scream obscenities at him and slam the phone down like most would. In the background, he could hear her consulting with someone then she came back on the line. " _It's imperative that we speak today, General. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important._ "

Resisting a huff, Bucky gave in. "Very well. Come to the museum any time after eight-thirty. Security will escort you to my office."

" _Thank you. We'll see you then._ "

The line disconnected, and Bucky was left with a mystery. _We?_

He started the car, shifted into gear, and backed out of the driveway. Coffee was an indulgence he'd given up years ago, at his wife's urging. However, this morning, just the mention of the beverage stirred a craving. On the way to work, he stopped for a coffee at the same Java Junction the woman had mentioned.

~~O~~

At precisely eight-thirty-one, a security guard knocked on his office door, and stuck his head in. "People to see you, General."

"Send them in, Vern. And thank you." The young security guard held the door open for his guest, the insistent Ms. Romanoff, who was _not_ what he expected. Belatedly, Bucky stood, and extended his hand. Hers was warm, as was the smile.

"Thank you for seeing us, General."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, so different in person than it had been on the phone. Husky and warm, as if she'd just rolled out of bed and wasn't quite awake yet. And though he thought himself well beyond such things, he was immediately smitten. Not since before he'd married Connie had he experienced this level of attraction for a woman. From the look in her hazel eyes, she knew the effect she was having on him. Against his better judgment, James held her hand between both of his, giving her a cheeky grin. "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Romanoff."

Natasha gently, yet firmly reclaimed her hand, insinuating herself into the guest chair in front of his desk and crossing her knees. A smirk turned up the corners of her mouth, and one eyebrow rose impudently. "Not entirely, General."

"Please, call me James." He returned to his seat. "What can I do for you today, Ms. Romanoff?"

Again, that smirk. "Natasha. And _that_ is a loaded question, James." Something about the way she said his name, all soft and breathy, caused James to believe that she felt the same attraction. Or maybe it was his imagination. Yes. That had to be it. He forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying. "However, I'm not here to engage in flirtatious banter." Her demeanor changed from playful to serious in under a second. "I've brought someone to see you. But before he joins us, I want you to be prepared for a shock."

Taken aback, Bucky frowned. "By all means, bring your friend in so we can get this party started." Going to the door, Natasha motioned to someone, and when he came in, James was glad he'd stayed seated. The young man looked just like Steve Rogers. But he couldn't be. Steve had died almost seventy years ago. He was there when the plane went into the North Atlantic, standing by while Peggy and he talked about dancing. Well, the best defense was a good offense, and it was time for James to start offending. He got to his feet, employing an expression and tone that had sent more than one junior officer scuttling away. "If this is a joke, you should know I don't appreciate being made a fool of, young lady, so take your _friend_ and _go_."

The air that surrounded Bucky suddenly felt thicker, fuller, as if it were now occupied by something he'd been missing. He cast a quick glance to the side. The spurious Captain America now stood at the edge of his comfort zone.

"It's really me, Bucky. Steve."

It even sounded like… But it just wasn't possible. Was it? Bucky crossed his arms and faced the man. "If you're really Steve, then tell me something only _he_ would know."

One side of his mouth turned up. "When we were ten, I threw up after you made me go on the Cyclone at Coney Island."

Bucky nearly laughed out loud. "I've told that story many times, son. It's even on my Wikipedia page. You'll have to do better."

The other man tossed a glance at Natasha then leaned close to whisper in his ear. "You lost your virginity to Mary Lou Sorrento in the back seat of her dad's '31 Nash Ambassador. You were seventeen, she was twenty-two. Six months later, she married an accountant and moved to El Centro, California. They and their one-year-old twin boys were killed in an earthquake in May of 1940."

"Oh, my God." Stunned, Bucky felt behind him for the chair, falling into it when his legs gave out. "I never told anyone that story."

"Except me." Steve crouched in front of him. "You okay?"

He waved away Steve's concern. "Yes, yes. Fine. It's just that, all these years, I-I thought you were _dead_. We all assumed you died when the plane crashed." He held up his left wrist, the light shining off of a silver POW/MIA bracelet. _Captain Steven G. Rogers USA, August 1945 North Atlantic_. "I started wearing this in the seventies, during Vietnam." With all due respect, James removed the bracelet and set it on his desk next to the photos of his family. When his legs stopped shaking, Bucky pushed to his feet, Steve coming up with him so that they were face to face. After a moment's hesitation, they hugged.

The years melted away when Steve whispered, "Jerk."

Bucky heard the smile in his friend's voice. "Punk."

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora for her endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas she's done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 3**

Leaving the two old friends alone to get reacquainted, Natasha made her way to the museum's café. Steve would know where to find her, or he'd call when he was ready to go.

The Howling Commandos had gained notoriety for their uncanny ability to infiltrate and eliminate Red Skull's hidden fortresses with no loss of personnel. They decimated his troops, and put an end to HYDRA's bid for world domination. Seven men. All gone now except Barnes, until Steve returned from his icy prison.

The two best friends were together again, and she was left with nothing to do but think about her reaction to meeting General James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. He'd flirted with her, and Natasha had flirted back, something she only did when it served her purposes, like cozying up to a mark. The man was more than sixty years her senior, yet she found herself thinking about his blue eyes, his smile, and the way it felt when he held her hand. The warmth of that grip had traveled up her arm, and spread through her chest, the sensation lingering long after the contact ended.

Not that any of it mattered. Her sole purpose for meeting Barnes was to reunite him with Steve. There was no reason for them to speak again.

She refilled her coffee cup, and returned to the table, staring out the window at nothing, using caffeine and meditation to banish errant thoughts.

~~O~~

Steve and Bucky had been talking for over an hour when a young Asian woman knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation. "Sorry to bother you, Boss. You have a meeting with the board of directors in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Gail."

The woman left again, and Steve stood. "I should go."

"You have my number, Steve. Give me a call, and we'll have dinner. I'd like you to meet my family." At the door, the old friends hugged once more.

"It's good seeing you again, Bucky."

"And you. Take care."

Steve had his hand on the doorknob, when Bucky touched his shoulder. "One last thing."

"Yeah?"

"Natasha. Are you and she…" Bucky made a vague gesture.

Steve shook his head. "She's sort of a tutor."

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "She seeing anyone?"

"Doesn't talk about her personal life. Why?" Even as he asked the question, Steve knew the answer. " _Seriously?_ Aren't you a little old for her?"

Holding his hands out to the side, Bucky grinned and shrugged. "Age is mind over matter, Steve. If you don't mind, it don't matter."

Shaking his head and grinning, Steve gave his friend a pointed look. "You want to ask her on a date, that's _your_ business. Do _not_ get me involved."

"Deal." Bucky pulled out his phone, thumb poised over the keys. "What's her number?"

 **A Week Later**

"…and please have the year corrected on Steve's plaque. He was born in 19 _18_ , not 19 _14_ ," Bucky told his assistant.

Gail huffed. "I've _told_ them, Boss. _Twice_. I'll tell them again, and hound them every day until it's done."

Bucky grinned. "That's my girl. Have I told you how lucky I am to have you as my assistant?"

Gail returned the grin. "Not nearly enough. Though, if you're looking for a way to express your gratitude, how about an intro to the hot guy who was here the other day?"

The grin turned into a chuckle. "Not sure he's ready for that yet, but I'll see what I can do." Bucky signed several papers and passed them back to Gail. The alarm on his phone beeped. "I'm leaving early, so take the rest of the day off. Make it a two-and-a-half-day weekend."

" _You_ are the best boss ever, Boss." At the door, she gave him a sunny smile. "See you Monday. And don't do anything I wouldn't do on your date tonight."

This time, Bucky laughed out loud. "It's much too late for that. Been there, done that, inducted into the hall of fame."

Gail, thirtyish with dark hair, rolled her brown eyes at him. " _Go_. And have a good time."

Several hours later, Bucky was standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, turning his head side to side trying to decide if he should shave. He decided against it then picked up the comb to tame hair that touched his collar. Here he was pushing triple digits and not a gray hair in sight. He sent a silent thank you to the creepy doctor who'd experimented on him so many years ago. Without it, he might have died long ago, and would never have known that Steve had survived the deliberate crashing of Schmidt's plane. Or worse, he'd still be alive and suffering from some form of dementia like Peggy Carter, or a host of other chronic conditions. He sure wouldn't be getting dressed to go on a date for the first time in more than sixty years.

He made reservations at his favorite Italian restaurant, Vesuvius, a casual dining experience, romantic atmosphere, pleasant music that allowed for intimate conversation, and maybe some dancing. His date said she would meet him there rather than have him pick her up. From her tone, Bucky assumed she was working late rather than she didn't want him to know where she lived. At least he hoped so.

He tucked in his Egyptian blue button-front shirt-the one his daughter insisted he needed because it made his eyes look even bluer, pulled on his boots, and checked his look one more time just to make sure he wasn't trying too hard or dressing too young for his age. He put on his black leather jacket as he walked out the front door to the cab idling at the curb.

~~O~~

Standing under the porte-cochère waiting for his date, Bucky resisted looking at his watch again. Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a rush when the roar of a high-performance vehicle drew attention to a brand new, shiny black Corvette Stingray. It screeched to a stop at the valet stand. One of the young men jogged over to open the door. He extended a hand to the driver, and when she stood, she graced him with a smile.

When his date joined him, the smile softened. "I'm not late, am I?"

Bucky offered his arm, and she lightly gripped it above the elbow. "Not at all, Natasha."

They were shown to a table in a corner. He helped her off with her jacket then took his off, draping both over the seat of an unoccupied chair.

Underneath the jacket, she wore a black top with short sleeves that promised much while revealing little. Her black pants fit as if they'd been molded to her specific curves, the legs tucked into black boots with a short heel. Her jewelry was elegant, yet understated. The only spot of color came from her deep red hair that stopped just below her earlobes.

Taking the napkin from under the silverware, Bucky draped it over his lap. "You look lovely."

"Thanks. You look pretty amazing yourself, James." She took the napkin and spread it over her lap just as the server arrived.

"Welcome to Vesuvius. My name is Jefferson. Would you like to try the house red tonight?"

Bucky consulted Natasha with the lift of an eyebrow. She nodded. "Please."

Jefferson handed them menus. "The specials are on page three. If you have any questions, I'll be back with bread and the wine in a few minutes."

He took a sip of water to clear his throat and returned it to the table. "Tell me about yourself, Natasha."

 **Two Hours Later**

"…I hear fighting and laughter, so I go down the alley, and there stands Steve almost out on his feet, using a trash can lid as a shield. He's saying, 'I can do this all day'. These two guys are double timing him, calling him names, taking turns smacking him around. I sent them off with their tales between their legs. And Steve says to me, 'I had 'em on the ropes'. Of course, that was before he was giving the serum."

Natasha was laughing so hard she could barely stay in her seat. Not at Steve getting beat up, of course. James told the story in such a way that she could see it all clearly in her mind. Smell the stench of garbage, hear the clang of metal on metal.

Looking smug that he'd been able to make her lose control, Bucky sat forward in his chair, one elbow on the table, chin in his hand, and the other hand next to it. He looked not much older than the photos she'd seen at the Smithsonian. Though she knew him to be in his mid-nineties, he appeared to be in his early fifties at the most. Her research into his physical health had shown him to be a superior male specimen for his age due to the experimentation done by Zola during WWII.

"You'd think he would've learned his lesson the first five or six times."

"Troublemaker, huh?" Natasha kept her voice even and filled with humor despite the fact that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She scooted closer to Bucky, giving him a flirtatious smile that her words belied. "Keep smiling, and look only at me. We're being watched."

His crystal blue eyes shifted down to the table top as he took her hand in his. It was warm, strong, and calloused from hard work. "They're probably wondering what a beautiful young woman like yourself is doing with an old codger three times her age."

"That's sweet, James. But this feels different." She adjusted the position of their hands, weaving their fingers together, giving him a coy smile. "You up for a little adventure?"

James snorted a laugh. "The closest I've come to adventure since I retired was taking my grandkids to Disney World Resorts in Florida. At least that was the plan. We ended up in a couple of connected rooms at a no-star motel while repairs were being made to the hotel where we had reservations. A hurricane had hit just two days before." The skin around Bucky's eyes crinkled with his smile. "In other words, I'm game for whatever you have in mind, Natasha."

"What're you driving?"

"Took a cab. Why?"

She stood, and he did as well. "That makes it easier." He signaled for the server, helped her into her jacket then put his own on. "Pay the check, and meet me at the valet stand in three minutes."

~~O~~

By the time Bucky reached the curb, Natasha was in the driver's seat of the 'Ray, wearing a pair of black leather driving gloves. He got in the passenger seat, and buckled up. "What's going on, Natasha?"

For an answer, she shifted into gear, burning rubber as she pulled away from the curb into traffic, forcing other vehicles to slam on their brakes and honk. Every few seconds she would glance at the rear-view mirror and back to the street, her beautiful features in repose, almost as if she were enjoying herself.

The ramp to Interstate 295 southbound beckoned, and she answered the call, taking the curve well over the speed limit. Bucky pressed his feet into the floorboard, one hand on the dash and the other gripping the center console. He gritted his teeth because it wouldn't be a good idea to distract her by screaming like a little girl as her speed climbed to triple digits.

The car swerved sharply to the left, into the median and back onto the road where she floored it. They drove for a few miles then headed west on Interstate 495.

A few minutes later, she made a hard right, crossing five lanes of traffic and a patch of grass to the exit. After a couple of miles, she abruptly turned into the parking lot of an abandoned hospital, and drove around to the back. The engine shut down, and once he caught his breath, Bucky felt it was time for an explanation. "Natasha, what's going _on_? We weren't really being followed, were we?"

"Were. Past tense." She glanced over at him, her expression unreadable. "Everything I told you about my job? Some of it was lies. The rest was," her right hand waggled, "an oversimplification."

Bucky wished he could say he was surprised. From the moment he set eyes on her, he sensed an aura of mystery surrounding her petite frame.

"I work for SHIELD. It's like Homeland Security, but with a more specialized focus."

"What do you _really_ do for this SHIELD?"

For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. "I'm a spy and an assassin."

Again, Bucky wasn't as surprised as he felt he should be. He shifted in his seat, finally relaxing. "Cool."

Her eyes narrowed at him as if she thought he was lying. "I tell you I kill people for a living, and all you can say is 'cool'?"

He turned toward her so she could see his grin. "I was a member of an elite combat unit during WWII, Natasha. We took down every known HYDRA base in Europe and Asia within a few months. We killed _hundreds_ of Nazis and HYDRA agents. So yes, cool."

One side of her mouth turned up in a grin. "Good."

Relieved that she was being honest, he asked, "What's next on the agenda?"

That flirtatious smile was back. "Mini-golf?"

Bucky pretended to yawn. "Boring. Java Junction for coffee and a chocolate tart?"

Natasha looked up at the ceiling as if for divine guidance then shook her head. He felt a gentle brush on his thigh. He laid a hand over hers to stop what she was doing to him. At her urging, they clasped their hands together. "Not feeling it. A movie?"

He thought it over then shook his head, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Library? The Story Lady is reading _Goodnight Moon_."

She raised her free hand to brush through his long hair and around the back of his neck, urging him close. "What about… dancing?"

"I like dancing. Where should we go?" Bucky's last word was muffled when Natasha pressed her lips to his. Then, just as suddenly she was gone, leaving him… not as satisfied as he wanted to be.

The 'Ray's engine roared to life again. Natasha shifted into gear, and flashed that playful smile. This one filled with promise. "Your place."

 **SHIELD Satellite Headquarters**

 **Quantico, Virginia**

 **Noon-ish**

Natasha covered a yawn with the back of her hand as the lift came to a stop on the residential level. Holding her badge in one hand and her jacket wrapped around her boots in the other, she turned at the junction, coming to a stop when a pair of big feet appeared in front of her. She tilted her head back until she was looking into Steve's face. "Hey," she muttered without enthusiasm.

"I tried calling you, but kept getting the answering service."

"Voice mail," she corrected automatically. "Forgot to turn my phone back on." She did so now, and found numerous unanswered calls and messages. Not all were from Steve. Some were from her partner and best friend. They had a sparring session scheduled for this morning, and she completely forgot. He would be pissed, and she thought about avoiding him until he cooled down.

 _Yeah. Good luck with that_ , her shoulder angel whispered in her ear with a grin. Her shoulder devil just snickered.

Steve was talking, and though she tried, Natasha couldn't muster the energy to make sense of it all. Stepping around him, she continued on toward her quarters. Steve kept pace with her, the look on his face said he was pissed, but he'd get over it.

It was the person coming up behind them she didn't want to talk to. "Not now, Clint. I need a shower, food and a nap, in that order." Steve cleared his throat, and belatedly, Natasha made introductions in a tired voice. "Steve Rogers, Clint Barton. Clint, Steve."

"Yeah, yeah." Her partner dismissed Steve with barely a glance as he came around in front, planting his feet so she had to look at him. "Where were you all night? Fury was looking for you." Clint took in her wrinkled clothes, messy hair and the fact that she was carrying her boots. His glare turned into a cheeky grin. He waved a finger to indicate the long hallway. "You're doing the walk of shame."

"Walk of shame? What's he talking about?" Steve's voice betrayed his confusion. Having been brought up in a very different time, the super-soldier would have little experience with sexual innuendo.

Clint crossed his arms, and grinned, shifting all weight onto one foot. " _You_ got bizzay last night."

A loud huff came from Steve, and both agents finally looked at him. "Explain."

She didn't want to, but she'd been assigned the task of indoctrinating Steve into this century. "'Gettin' bizzay' is two people having sex. Getting caught coming home the day after a casual sexual encounter, typically dressed in the same clothes as the previous evening, is called the walk of shame."

More confused than before, Steve held up a finger. "But you told me you were having dinner with…" Natasha wanted to laugh at the look on Steve's face when the answer hit him. "You spent the night with _Bucky?!_ "

Embarrassed, Steve turned and strode quickly down the hall, disappearing around the corner. The door to the stairs slammed shut a few seconds later. Taking the chance fate had thrown her Natasha stepped around Clint to continue on to her room. He caught up with her at the door.

"Wait." Clint pointed a thumb over his shoulder. " _That's_ Steve Rogers?"

"Yes."

"Captain America?"

Again, Natasha huffed. " _Yes._ "

Clint tilted his head to the side, thinking. "And you spent the night with a guy named Bucky." Pursing her lips and crossing her arms, Natasha waited for him to figure it out. "Rogers' best bud's name is Bucky Barnes, and Rogers is pissed because you spent the night with…" His mouth dropped open then closed with a snap. "Nat! Barnes is ninety-eight years old. You could've killed him!"

"He's ninety- _four_ ," she corrected, her good humor restored. Clint could always cheer her up. "And he acquitted himself quite nicely last night. Several times, as a matter of fact." She backed into the room, one hand on the door. "And FYI, it's only a walk of shame if you regret what happened. And I have _no_ regrets, Barton. Night."

She slammed the door on his dumfounded stare. Leaning against the door, Natasha smiled. Bucky had been asleep when she slipped out of bed, gathered her clothes, which were strewn all over the house, and got dressed. Before she left, she wrote a note and placed it on the bedside table.

As if thinking about him caused it, her phone rang. She smiled at the caller ID, a photo of her and Bucky cuddled together in his bed, covered with just a sheet. He'd taken it with her phone. "Good morning, James. How did you sleep? Me too… Tomorrow night? I'll check my work schedule, and call you back…"

 **TBC**

 **A/N:** _Goodnight Moon_ is an American children's picture book written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd, published September 1947.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

 **Special Note:** Thanks so much to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for giving me the idea used in this chapter.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 4**

Steve grabbed is jacket on his way out the front door of SHIELD HQ, angrily shoving his arms into the sleeves. He straddled the bike, revved the engine and took off. He had to get away before Natasha embarrassed him again. What she got out of seeing him speechless and awkward, Steve couldn't say.

He drove until his anger had diminished somewhat then parked in front of a café. As he sat down at an empty table, he wondered why he was upset that Natasha had spent the night with Bucky, and couldn't come up with an answer. Jealousy? Perhaps. He was envious of the time Natasha spent with his friend when they had only just become reacquainted.

A shadow fell over the table, and a menu was placed at his elbow. "Welcome to Mon Petit Café. Would you like to see the drink menu?"

Steve opened the menu, as stunned at the prices now as he was the first time he'd eaten out. "Just coffee."

The waitress moved away to place his order, and Steve realized too late that he'd been unforgivably rude.

Looking up at the skyline, he had the urge to draw for the first time since he woke up. He took a pencil from his pocket and began sketching on the back of a placemat. The waitress set a cup near his right hand, and filled it from the carafe. He brought the cup to his mouth for a sip and returned it to the table.

As the sketch began to take shape, he barely noticed when she refilled his cup. He wasn't hungry, and he was glad she didn't make an issue of the fact.

When he finished drawing the city's skyline, Steve finally looked up at the woman who'd been so tolerant of him parking himself at one of her tables for so long. The uniform of white shirt and black pants did nothing to hide her curvy figure. She was near thirty, with wavy dark hair below her shoulders, parted on the left. Reddish streaks on the sides highlighted her lightly tanned face. Her eyes were vivid mossy green and the dimples in her cheeks gave him the sense that she was an overall happy person. Her name tag said, "Joi". She wore a double set of diamond stud earrings in each lobe, a watch, a heart shaped pendant, and two rings on each hand. None of which resembled wedding or engagement rings.

He looked at his watch. "I've taken up enough of your time. I should go."

She refilled his cup again. "No need. The table's yours as long as you want it." Flashing a smile that showed straight white teeth, she picked up the menu. "We also have free wireless."

Confused, Steve blurted out, "Radio?"

That smile stayed in place as she moved on to the next table giving him the idea she found him odd. When she went back inside, the old man sitting at the next table leaned over. "Ask for her number, moron."

Steve ignored him, made a few additions to the sketch, folded it and pushed it into his pocket just as the waitress returned with his check. How did she know he was ready to go? She flashed him a cheeky grin as she walked away, and when he turned the check over, written across it were the words, "On the house. Call me. Joi." Her phone number was across the bottom.

With a grin, Steve tapped the older man on the shoulder, showing him the note. He gave Steve a thumbs up. Steve tucked the paper into his wallet so he wouldn't lose it, wondering if he would ever get used to women in this century.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Fury's Office**

"Why me, sir?" Fury stared at Clint Barton with his one good eye, unnerving the normally unflappable SHIELD agent. To hide his discomfort, Clint had clasped his hands behind his back. "What if Agent Romanoff needs back-up?"

"Then Coulson or Hill will assign someone else. I need my best agent on this project, Agent Barton. Someone who holds SHIELD's interests above all others." He sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. "With your skill set, you see things most people don't. Patterns that wouldn't occur to others, and that's what I need. All reports are for Hill's and my eyes only."

Flattered, Clint almost smiled. Almost. "I'll get right on it, Director. What's the project?"

"NASA and SHIELD are working together on the Joint Dark Energy Mission, Project Pegasus. A group of scientists are studying a device called the Tesseract. The man is charge is Dr. Eric Selvig."

He pushed a tablet across the desk, and Clint picked it up, quickly scrolling through the pages. From the little he could understand the Tesseract was a door to the other end of space. A more in-depth read-through could be done on the ride to the site.

"Get packed, Agent Barton. I want you on-site before 1300."

"You can count on me, sir."

~~O~~

Steve opened the text and snorted at the smiley face Joi used to start every conversation. His phone came with them, but he hadn't tried using them yet. They'd talked on the phone a few times, and texted nearly every day. He wanted to get to know her before asking her out, and she understood. His thumb tapped out a response. *Good morning.*

** _I WISH! The supply truck is delayed. No delivery until Monday. (angry face)_ **

*Sorry. Anything I can do?*

** _Not unless you know where I can get a good merlot for the Boeuf Bourguignon._ **

That was an easy one. *I'll make a call. How many bottles?*

**(smiley face) _You're the bomb, Steve! Two cases?_ **

Steve scrolled his contact list for Natasha's phone number. "It's Steve. I need a favor… Easy for someone with your connections… Two cases of merlot delivered to Mon Petit Café on Main. Something decent, not the cheap stuff… ASAP… I owe you one… I'll explain later." He switched back to text. *Done, on one condition.*

** _Anything within reason._ **

*Have dinner with me next week.* There was a long enough pause that Steve began to think he'd overstepped. Then he remembered that Joi had texted from work.

** _I'm free Sunday and Monday nights_.**

*Noted. One question. Why is a waitress ordering supplies?*

** _Servers, not waitresses. And it comes with the job. I'm also the owner. True story_.**

Chagrined that he thought Joi was just a waitress, Steve paused before responding. *Sorry. I just assumed.*

** _NP. Gotta go. Call me and we'll firm up our date._ **

~~O~~

Joi thumbed the phone's power button and shoved it into her back pants pocket on her way to the kitchen. Steve was sweet, and a bit naïve, refreshing in these times. Other times, he showed a cynical streak that annoyed and amused her at once.

He'd finally asked her on a date. She would've done the asking-was secure enough to withstand a rejection, however, Steve was an entirely different animal when it came to the males of the species. He didn't engage in sexual innuendo, and if he said something that could have a double meaning, she assumed he meant the less embarrassing element.

An hour later, a man appeared carrying two boxes labeled with the name of a popular winery. He set the boxes where she indicated, tipped his hat and was gone without asking for a signature. Aside from the obvious, Joi wondered what sort of man Steve was that he could have her request filled so quickly with a single phone call. She knew who he was of course; she'd heard stories about him all her life. And the news agencies had been falling all over themselves to report on his return to the living after seventy years entombed in ice. From what she'd read about cryogenics, that Steve had made it through the thawing process was nothing short of a miracle. And of all the women on the planet who wanted his attention, he chose her. At least for now.

Turning her mind to the kitchen staff, Joi waded into the fray. The act of creating tempting meals for her clientele made her happy, though it wouldn't mean a thing without her family surrounding her, giving their unconditional support. And if this thing with Steve proved to be a long-term event, she already knew he would be accepted without question because that's the kind of people they were.

 **Monday Afternoon**

Feeling more than a little nervous at his first date since awakening in the SHIELD facility in New York, Steve knocked on the door to Joi's apartment. It was opened almost immediately. "Hi."

"Hey! Come on in." Steve stepped into the apartment, and Joi closed the door. She was dressed in jeans that were form-fitting without being tight, a green short sleeved top, and matching socks. He took a seat on the sofa as Joi went through an open door he assumed was her bedroom. "Just let me get my shoes on and we'll go."

"Take your time. The movie doesn't start for another hour."

She came out carrying a pair of sneakers which she put on while standing in the middle of the living room, balancing on one foot then the other. "I know you've had this planned for a week, but do you mind if we don't go to a movie? The weather's nice for a change, and I'd rather not be cooped up inside."

He shrugged. "We can do whatever you want, Joi."

Her smile lit up the room. "How about a picnic at the park?"

"Works for me." Her suggestion made Steve glad he'd opted to bring the car rather than the bike.

Joi finished tying her shoes, and went into the kitchen. She opened the pantry, reaching for the picnic basket on the top shelf. Steve jumped up to help, bringing them closer than he meant. She looked up at him, her smile faltering, but not in a way that spelled trouble. If he had to guess, he'd say she was feeling the same pull of attraction he noticed the day they met.

He handed her the basket and stepped back. "Need any help?"

"I just have to pack it. You're welcome to watch, if you like." Apparently, Steve liked because he stayed to talk to her while she worked then carried the basket to the car.

~~O~~

It had been dark for hours by the time Steve returned Joi to her apartment. She asked him in for a beer, and had been pleasantly surprised when he accepted. His old fashioned ideals had kept him from taking any sort of liberties. He'd carried the basket himself, and held her hand as they walked along the jogging trail until they found the perfect spot for their picnic.

Each taking a side, they'd spread the blanket under a tree, and Steve had helped set out the food. Something other men hadn't done. For her, it was a sort of test to see if the guy paid attention to the little courtesies, and not just because she was a woman. Steve had passed with flying colors. She attributed it to being brought up in a different era. One where men respected women. Now they were alone in her apartment where the next phase of testing would happen.

Joi kicked off her shoes on her way to the kitchen to put away the leftovers and get them each a beer. "Have a seat, Steve. Make yourself comfortable."

Most men would take her words to heart and be sitting with their stocking feet on the coffee table and their shirt pulled out. Steve, on the other hand, hadn't done any of that. When she returned with the beers, she smiled indulgently. "When I said make yourself comfortable, I meant it. Take off your shoes, if you want."

"Okay."

She watched him do just that then handed him one of the beers. Leaving a space between them, she curled one leg under and sat down, bringing the other leg up so that she was sitting cross-legged. "Want to watch a movie?"

One side of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Thought you didn't like movies."

"I don't like crowded theaters. Let's see that list again. Maybe we can cross something off." She looked over his shoulder. "Thai food? You should've said something. There's a good one up the street."

Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. "That was Natasha's idea, and it can wait."

"Natasha?"

"She's a friend." He shifted and draped his arm along the back of the sofa. "What do _you_ recommend?"

Shrugging one shoulder, Joi dropped her feet to the floor and reached for the remote. "Let's see what's on Netflix. No chick flicks." She scrolled the offerings, dismissing most as not worthy of Steve's attention or they were rated R. Then she came to the most recent _Star Trek_ movie. "Here we go. What about this one?"

"Looks interesting."

Joi glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Cool."

Halfway through the movie, Steve's arm touched her upper back, his hand lightly brushing her bicep, but that's as far as it went. At no time did she get the feeling he was biding his time, waiting for a moment of inattention to take advantage. She got the sense that she might have to make the first move, and that was fine by her. Waiting had never been her style.

Joi paused the movie, and handed the remote to Steve. "Want another beer?"

He smiled. "Only if you're having another." He passed the remote back to her. "I'll get it."

Pleasantly surprised at his courtesy and willingness to wait on her, Joi stretched her legs out, resting them on the coffee table just as Steve returned with the beers. He opened one and passed it to her. She restarted the movie, and when he put his arm around her, she leaned against his side.

Joi awoke with a start, having fallen asleep on Steve's shoulder. She blinked at the television screen. _Star Trek_ was over, and Steve had started another while she slept. He used the remote to shut it off. "You looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you."

"I am _so_ sorry, Steve. We overbooked catering orders Thursday _and_ Friday. I didn't get home until after two in the morning, and had to be back by seven."

"Next time, say something. Rescheduling isn't a problem." He tossed the remote on the coffee table, eased his arm from around her shoulders and put his shoes on. "I should go before the neighbors start to talk." Joi walked him to the door, and he stepped into the hall. "I had a good time tonight."

"Me too." She tilted her head to the side, thinking. "Maybe we _should_ give them something to talk about."

One eyebrow arched upward, accompanied by a knowing smile. "Oh? What do you suggest?"

She crooked her finger in a come here gesture. Steve leaned down, tilting his head in the opposite direction to press their lips together. His were soft and just a little moist, and he was gentleman enough not to try to take it any further. They parted, and Steve took a step back, waiting until she closed and locked the door to leave.

 **Several Months Later**

"You have to tell him, honey, and before he finds out from someone else."

Joi paused in chopping vegetables for salad. "I _know_ , Mom. It's just… We're enjoying what we have, and I don't want to spoil it. What if he sees this as me lying to him all this time?"

Carolyn Lockwood bustled around the kitchen cooking dinner with her eldest daughter. "You haven't been lying. You just didn't make full disclosure. If anyone would understand, it would be him. They _both_ should understand."

"What about a lie of omission?"

Standing next to her daughter, Carolyn nudged her with a shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. If he cares about you, he'll get over it, or he won't care. It's the other one you gotta look out for. If it gets too bad, call me, and I'll have a talk with him. I'm betting it won't be nearly the big hairy deal you think it will. How long has it been?"

"Five months. And yes, I'll tell them." Joi pointed the knife in Carolyn's general direction. "But not until after this weekend. I want Chase and Justin's twenty-sixth birthday party to be a happy occasion."

"It will be, honey. The cake Desirée made is fantastic. The boys will love it."

Joi snickered. "Yeah. It has their favorite things on it: girls for Chase, boys for Justin, and motorcycles for them both." She switched to a French accent, "They should appreciate that it took my, pâtissière three days to make, _n'est–ce pas_ , _maman_?"

Grinning, Carolyn hugged her daughter around the waist. " _Oui, ma fille douce_."

When they came into the kitchen, to the chagrin of Carolyn's fraternal twin brothers, their mother and sister were singing _Refugee_.

 _You see, you don't have to live like a refugee_ _  
_ _Don't have to live like a refugee._

They rolled their eyes at the two women, making them laugh.

 **Java Junction**

 **Sunday Afternoon**

 **Two Weeks Later**

"Please say you'll come, Gramps. It's important," Joi said to the man on her computer screen.

He huffed at her, but it was all a show. As the oldest grandchild, she had always been his favorite, and he seldom denied any reasonable request. He sighed loudly, the sign he was giving in. "Fine. I'll be there. I'm going to miss my game for this, so it better be worth it, Ezzie."

"It will be, Gramps. I promise."

Again, he rolled his eyes. "And stop calling me Gramps. In public at least." For a moment, his attention wondered to the television Joi heard playing in the background. Her grandfather pumped a fist and yelled, "Yeah! Touchdown!" His right hand brought a cup of coffee to his mouth for a sip before continuing. "Can I get a hint? Something?"

Grinning, she sprang her trap. "There's someone I want you to meet. The man I've been seeing."

~~O~~

 _Time has come to a complete standstill, and I'm the only one who noticed_ , thought Joi as she sipped her soy latte. That was the only explanation for why she'd been sitting here for a whole _three_ _minutes_? Really?

The rumble of a motorcycle reached her ears over the too loud music. Steve parked next to her Prius, and shut the engine off, using his heel to put the kickstand down. Joi knocked on the window and waved. He grinned, and came inside, stopping for a coffee on the way. Steve slipped into the seat next to her, giving her a quick kiss. "What's the big surprise, babe?"

"You'll see." Though she meant her tone to be enigmatic and mysterious, it sounded stilted to her. Steve didn't seem to notice. It was probably her imagination anyway. "He'll be here soon."

He stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth, returning it to the table. "He? You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

Joi blinked in surprise, and rushed to reassure him. "Nothing like that. There's someone I want you to meet. My grandfather."

"You must be close."

"He's my best friend. Dad was deployed overseas when I was born. Mom and I stayed with him and Grams for a month while Mom recuperated from an emergency C-section. Grams worked during the day so it was just me, Mom and Gramps all day, every day. We bonded."

Steve's mood changed to glum. "I never knew my grandparents. They died when I was just a baby."

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Then you can share mine. Dad's parents have been gone for a long time, and Grams passed a few years ago. Gramps is the only one left."

That smile was back. He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway. "If I have to share the woman I'm carrying a torch for with another man, I'm glad it's her grandfather, and not a jerk who doesn't deserve her."

"Oh, he definitely _not_ a jerk." Their lips touched, and Joi closed her eyes, enjoying the little thrill she got every time they kissed.

They lurched apart at hearing a throat clearing. Steve got to his feet with a welcoming smile, tempered with a touch of confusion. "Bucky! What're you doing out on a Sunday? Shouldn't you be home watching football?"

Bucky crossed his arms, his demeanor slightly belligerent. More so than Joi thought the situation warranted. He lowered a minor glare at Steve. "The bigger question is _why_ are you kissing my granddaughter?"

" _Granddaughter_?" Steve turned to look at her, his eyes wide in shock.

Gramps pointed at Steve. " _This_ is the guy you wanted me to meet?"

With a sheepish grin, Joi made explosions with her hands. "Surprise."

 **TBC**

 _Star Trek_ is a 2009 American science fiction adventure film directed by J. J. Abrams, written by Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, and distributed by Paramount Pictures. It is the 11th film of the _Star Trek_ film franchise, and is also a reboot that features the main characters of the original _Star Trek_ television series with different actors in the roles.

 _Refugee_ is a song recorded by American rock band Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. It was written by Tom Petty and Mike Campbell, and was released in January 1980.

The French in this chapter is taken from Google Translate. If it's incorrect, please let me know, and I'll change it.

 _Merci_ ,

Sunny


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 5**

Huffing, Steve glared mildly at Joi. "You said he wasn't a jerk."

"And you're still the same punk you were in the forties," was Bucky's jab.

Bucky and Steve noticed the interest of their fellow patrons at the same time. Steve picked up his and Joi's cups, and pointed his chin at an empty table outside. Silently, Bucky and Joi followed. Over his shoulder, he saw them communicating in sign language. To go by their sharp gestures and the looks in their eyes, they were having one hell of an argument that didn't stop when they took their seats. Their hands moved so fast, the few words he knew got lost.

Eventually, Steve stopped them by grabbing hold of their hands. When he had their attention, he made a _zip it_ motion. "Enough!"

With identical expressions of contrition, grandfather and granddaughter put their hands in their laps. "We all need refills. No talking and _no_ sign language while I'm gone. Got it?"

He didn't wait for their agreement to go to the counter for two regular coffees and Joi's favorite soy latte. When he returned, they each took a sip, Joi and Bucky avoiding looking at each other. Steve watched the byplay, or lack thereof for just under a minute. "Who wants to go first? Start with the sign language."

Joi twisted her cup around and around. "My sister, Serenity, was born deaf."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No need to be. _She's_ not."

Bucky shifted in his seat, leaning forward, elbows on the table, one hand toying with the cardboard cup. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating Steve, Ezzie?"

Joi opened her mouth to defend her actions, closing it again when Steve held up his hand. "Hold up a second. _Ezzie_ is Joi?"

"Esmeralda Joi," Bucky said by way of explanation.

She rolled her eyes. "I _hate_ that name, Gramps. That's why I go by Joi."

"And _I_ hate being called Gramps in public. Guess we're even."

Waving a finger to indicate the two of them, Steve said to Bucky, "What I'm hearing is there's one person here who knew what was going on all these months and chose to say nothing."

Both men turned to look at Joi. She huffed at them. " _This_ is why. Because I knew you'd both get all weirded out about it. You, Gramps, because I was dating your bestie. And you, Steve, because you were dating your bestie's _granddaughter_."

Sitting back in his chair, Bucky crossed one leg over the other. "It's not just that, Ez. He's more than sixty years older…"

A cheery voice intruded into their conversation. "Sorry I'm late."

~~O~~

All three faces gaped at Natasha as she pulled out the empty chair and sat down. She accepted a kiss from Bucky, and when they parted, Steve and the girl were staring. Steve's expression was equal parts annoyed and smug.

He slapped Bucky's shoulder with the back of his hand to get his attention, one eyebrow raised. "You were saying…?"

To hide his discomfort, Bucky took a drink of coffee and set it down. "Nothing. I was saying _nothing_."

Confused, Natasha looked from one to the other. "What did I miss?"

The girl sitting next to Steve smiled and stuck out her hand. "Hi. I'm Joi. And you are…?"

"Natasha. James asked me here to meet his granddaughter and her boyfriend."

Grinning, Joi motioned to herself and Steve. "That's us. Funny, Gramps didn't mention he was seeing someone." Joi stuck her elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her hand. "Natasha, do you mind me asking how old you are?"

Still confused, Natasha smiled. She wasn't vain, and had no qualms about giving out her age. "Not at all. I'll be twenty-seven in November. Why?"

"No reason." Her eyes shifted over to Bucky who looked off into the distance as if he hadn't heard.

Something was going on, and Natasha wanted to know what it was, but would wait until she and Bucky were alone. "I know we had plans for dinner tonight, James, but I have to go out of town for a few days."

He reached under the table to take her hand. "No worries. I'll see you when you get back."

Steve kept his head down, glancing at Natasha every few seconds. To tweak him, she grabbed the front of Bucky's shirt and jerked him close, laying a hot and steamy kiss on him that guaranteed he'd miss her while she was gone. " _Do svidaniya,_ _plyushevyy mishka moya_."

" _Do svidaniya, angel moy_ ," he responded with a grin.

~~O~~

Steve watched Natasha saunter away, the agent turning it into a less-than-casual stroll. She got into her car, revved the engine and left the scene. He brought the cup to his mouth and took a sip, nearly doing a spit-take when Joi quipped, "O-M-G! Watching you make out with her in front of me was _all kinds_ of creepy, Gramps. And _when_ did you learn Russian?"

Bucky picked up his cup. "In order: don't look, too bad, and just recently." Steve watched Bucky's bravado wane. "Just, uh, don't tell your mother."

Joi scoffed good-naturedly. "Not a word, and it's just because I want to see her, and everyone else's, faces when Natasha comes for Thanksgiving. Um, she _is_ coming, isn't she?"

"We haven't talked about it." He got up to throw out his empty cup, and came back. "If I leave now, I can still catch the last quarter of the game." To Steve, he said, "Welcome to the family, Steve. Everyone comes to my house for the holidays. We expect to see you there."

With that, Bucky turned and walked to his vehicle, a small SUV, and was soon gone, leaving Steve and Joi alone. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and burst out laughing. Joi stood, and Steve did as well. "That wasn't at _all_ uncomfortable."

The look on her face spoke volumes. "It was like watching a train wreck. You want to look away. You're fascinate and repelled at the same time."

Steve put his arm around Joi's shoulders as they walked to her car. "Thanksgiving's not for a few weeks. I'll come, if you want me to."

"Gramps loves big family gatherings, and he's already invited you."

They shared a long kiss then Steve held the door while Joi got in. She started the car, waving as she turned into traffic. He stood there watching until she was out of sight. Shaking his head, Steve finished off his coffee, tossed the cup, and returned to his apartment where he changed and headed for the gym.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Thanksgiving Day**

"I should've cut my hair," Bucky grumped to the full-length mirror in his bedroom, running his hands through hair that was now down to his shoulders. "My hair hasn't been this long since I retired. I look like a sheepdog." He rubbed the backs of his fingers over his unshaven cheek. "A sheepdog that needs a shave."

Natasha turned him toward her. "I think you're handsome just as you are. The only person you should be concerned about is yourself. If you're happy with this look, that's all that matters."

He wrapped his fingers around hers. "You always know what to say, Tasha."

"It's a gift."

She handed him his shoes, and he sat on the side of the bed to put them on. "I'm a little nervous about you meeting my family."

Bucky stood, and Natasha rested her hands on his chest. "It's understandable, _lyubimaya_. I'm the first woman you've dated since your wife died and you're wondering how your family will respond to the fact that I'm sixty-seven years younger than you."

He opened and closed his mouth. "That's part of it. What do we tell them you do? 'She's an assassin' probably won't go over well."

One side of her mouth turned upward. "Tell them my work for the government is classified, which is true. Or, you could make something. Say that my job as a bartender is just until I break into the music business."

Bucky tucked her hand around his arm, and drew her out into the hall. Downstairs, they could hear voices calling out to each other, laughter, and music. Someone was playing the piano, and people were singing along, kids and adults. "You may have to prove it. Justin owns a night club, and often plays for the customers. Does a little singing too. Has a kind of Harry Connick Jr. thing going on."

At the top of the stairs, Natasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "We can do a duet."

He took a deep breath, and gestured for her to go down ahead of him. At the bottom of the stairs, he leaned close. "My daughter Carolyn does most of the cooking with Ezzie, Chase, Serenity, and a couple of the cousins helping out. There's a kind of ebb and flow that I've never been able to get a handle on. Yet, somehow, it all works out."

Glancing around at the chaos, Natasha had to admit he had a point. "And if it doesn't, who cares? Having family around is what's important. I never had that growing up."

They jumped apart when a group of kids aged approximately four to ten ran between them, through the living room and out the back door. The sun was shining and there was a slight chill in the air. James had said the dress code was casual, and she'd taken him at his word, wearing slim fitting jeans, sneakers, and an emerald green sweater. The only jewelry she wore were earrings and a pendant that James had given her on her birthday two days before, a gold and diamond angel hanging from a gold chain. She'd told him not to get her anything, but he'd insisted.

~~O~~

"Carolyn?"

The woman at the counter looked over her shoulder at Bucky and smiled. Wiping her hands on her apron, she presented her cheek for a kiss. "About time you came down, Dad."

Bucky gestured at his jeans, sneakers and a blue long-sleeved t-shirt. "Couldn't decide what to wear." He greeted his grandchildren, and a couple of the great-grandkids, picking up the youngest, a three-year-old girl by the name of Gracie. She giggled when he noisily kissed her neck then wiggled to get down, and ran after the other kids.

He shared a look with Joi. Using ASL, he asked, _Steve?_

Joi turned so her mother wouldn't see her reply. _Back yard with the guys playing football. Mom thinks he's the bomb. Natasha?_

Bucky pointed over his shoulder. _Where are your uncles and aunt?_

His granddaughter shrugged and grinned. _I'll go find them. Not a word to Mom till I get back._

Holding up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, Bucky stepped out of the kitchen into the hall that ran to the back of the house, looking for Natasha. He found her sitting at a child-sized table with Gracie, coloring. She would hold up a crayon and say the Russian word for that color, and Gracie would repeat it as best she could. Natasha looked up at him, smiled and went back to Gracie.

He felt a touch on his shoulder. "Gramps? They're ready for you."

"Thanks, Ez." Waving to get Natasha's attention, Bucky nodded toward the kitchen. He held out his hand and she took it. "You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be."

The couple returned to the kitchen. Joi had positioned herself where she could see the faces of her aunt and uncles. He gave her a wink and she returned it with a grin.

Carolyn, always the spokesperson for the Barnes siblings, signed for Serenity's sake. The girl was strong willed, and had refused to leave when asked. "What's the big mystery, Dad?"

Rubbing his hands together, Bucky met each of their eyes. He too signed. "I want all of you to meet someone." Natasha came to his side. "This is Natasha. Tasha, these are my children. Carolyn, Jacob, Steven, and Olivia. And one of my granddaughters, Serenity."

Natasha's smile was radiant. "James has told me so much about all of you."

Serenity got to her feet, asking the question _Who is she?_

 _Natasha is my girlfriend._

"Girlfriend?" In her shock, Carolyn forgot to sign, but Bucky could see by the look on Serenity's face that she understood.

The girl came forward, an engaging smile on her pretty face. _We're so glad you could join us_.

Natasha signed, _Thank you. It's good to be here. James talks about all of you so much. He's very proud of his family_.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Carolyn's eyes narrow. To delay the inevitable argument, he took Natasha's hand. "I'm going to introduce her around. Let us know if you need help."

Finally, Bucky and Natasha escaped the stunned stares of his children. At the back door, he put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "That went better than I thought."

He felt her smile through the material of his shirt. "I'm very likeable. They'll warm up to me eventually."

Loud children's voices were joined by a familiar adult's. Out in the yard, Steve had the football tucked into his right arm, and he was moving with a shambling gait, pretending he was being dragged down by two boys with both arms wrapped around Steve's legs. He looked up and waved just before he "tripped" and fell. As soon as he hit the ground, the kids were all over him.

Bucky and Natasha shared a laugh, and returned to the main room where the game was on though no one was paying attention. He grabbed Chase as he passed. "Why don't you set up the game system? I'm sure that'll be more interesting than watching Dallas beat Miami."

"Sure, Gramps."

When Chase didn't immediately leave, Bucky made introductions. "Natasha, this is Chase, one of Carolyn's boys."

"And _my_ twinsie." Another young man joined them, extending his hand. "Justin. I'm the older and better looking brother."

Chase scoffed. " _And_ the most delusional."

~~O~~

Justin held onto Natasha's fingers, kissing the back as he took a step into her personal space. His voice dipped down into a lower register, turned softer, as if they were the only ones in the room. "Don't listen to him, Natasha. Chase resents that I'm twelve minutes older than he is." His eyes, the same color of blue as Bucky's, openly admired her. "If you and Gramps ever break up, give me a call."

Both young men were dark-haired, fit, and on the verge of being ruggedly handsome. Justin was the taller of the two by two inches. His hair touched his collar, a few strands of which fell across his forehead making him appear to be younger than his mid-twenties while Chase's was military short without being extreme.

Smiling warmly, Natasha lowered her lashes, flirting back. "Oh, you're incredibly sweet, Justin. You have your grandfather's charm in abundance, and I might even be tempted to take you up on your offer some day… if you weren't gay."

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 6**

Bucky and Chase coughed to cover their laughter when Justin's jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide. "How did you know? I thought I was quite convincing as the roguish cad shamelessly hitting on my grandfather's much younger girlfriend."

Natasha pursed her lips to keep a smirk from getting out of control. "Oh, you were extraordinarily convincing, Justin. And if I were any other woman, I might've been taken in by your performance."

He released her hand, and she stepped back, taking hold of Bucky's arm again, saying without words that she belonged only to him. Justin, crossed his arms, all weight on one foot, causing the opposite hip to stick out. In this position, he resembled Bucky more than ever. "Then what _are_ you, Natasha?"

Her smile turned overly sweet, as was her tone. Why, dear boy, I kill people for a living. I could convince you to tell me _all_ your secrets, even the ones you've never told anyone. Then I'd kill you where you stand, and everyone would be convinced it was a suicide."

Bucky stiffened against her side, relaxing when both young men laughed. He laid a hand over hers where it held his arm. "Let's go say hi to Steve, Tasha."

He turned them toward the back door again. Over her shoulder, Natasha grinned. "Bye, boys."

~~O~~

When their grandfather and his girlfriend were gone, Chase slapped Justin on the shoulder. "Feel the burn, dude!"

"Oh, I feel it, little brother." Justin sighed. "She's quite tasty though, isn't she?"

"Mm-hmm. And much too good for our Gramps."

Justin went into the living room, followed by his twin, the two men working in tandem to set up the video game system. "Y'know, the biggest disadvantage to being gay is men don't have breasts."

"True."

Lowering his voice so he wouldn't be heard by the younger kids, Justin told his brother, "And breasts are _awesome_!"

Chase grinned. "They are, big brother. They are indeed."

Getting to his feet, Justin handed his brother a game controller. "That's why I gotta sleep with a woman now and then, you know. Just make sure I haven't forgotten how they feel, and taste, and…" He sighed with pleasure.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about your occasional heterosexual encounters."

Grinning, Justin chose a games while Chase booted up the system. "You're a real pal, Chase."

"No prob, bro. I only do it 'cause I love you."

"I know."

Using his thumbs, Chase chose a character while his brother did the same. "All that being said, I have someone I want you to meet."

"Yeah?" Justin was intrigued. This was the first time his twin had ever offered to introduce him to a possible romantic partner, man _or_ woman.

"Mm-hm. You'll love her. She's just your type. Brunette, five-six," Chase made a motion over his chest that women shake their heads at seeing. "Curvy, with the most _awesome_ breasts you've ever seen."

"Ha!" exclaimed Justin as he wiped out Chase's character. "Cool. What's her name?"

Chase grumbled as the game reset. "Celeste. And if that doesn't work out, I know a guy you might like. He's just your type too. Brunette, six feet, very fit, bit of a nerd, and like you, his door sometimes swings in the other direction. His name's Daniel."

"Double cool. The club's busy with Christmas and New Year's parties starting on the first. Bring 'em around, and we'll have a drink, get to know each other. Not on the same night though. Ha! Gotcha again!"

They got into a good-natured shoving match that ended with them wrestling on the floor while the game played on the screen, forgotten for the moment.

~~O~~

Bucky and Natasha stepped out onto the deck. The temperature had dropped a few more degrees. Natasha rubbed her arms through her top. "Cold?"

"A little."

Without a second thought, Bucky took off his long sleeved t-shirt and helped her into it. The sleeves hung well past her hands, and the hem reached the middle of her thighs. As she rolled up the sleeves, it was all he could do not to wonder what she'd look like in one of his shirts, and nothing else.

"Thanks. But won't _you_ be cold?"

He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Cold doesn't bother me. Not until it gets below forty."

Natasha pointed her chin at the far corner of the yard where Steve sat on the ground surrounded by kids, and a few adults. All listening raptly as he told them a story, gesturing with his hands. She took Bucky's hand, and together they crossed the grass that had already turned brown for the winter. Bucky was glad because he wouldn't have to mow or weed the garden again until spring.

"…I was such a skinny, scrawny kid, I couldn't even do pushups. One of the guys made fun of me, but Peggy came to my defense."

One of the boys raised his hand. "What did she _do_?"

Steve shrugged as if it were nothing. "She punched him in the nose. He fell down, and General Phillips yelled at him." The kids cheered for Peggy and the General. "Later, the General threw a grenade."

There was a gasp from the kids, and Bucky took a step forward, his good humor turning to intense interest. Natasha touched him on the arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah. He never told me this part of the story." He put a finger to his lips for silence, taking another step closer to the group.

"…I thought it was a real grenade, and jumped on it so my squad wouldn't be hurt." He waited out more gasps. "But it wasn't real. General Phillips was testing us."

Annoyed at hearing this for the first time Bucky called out, "Okay, kids. You've taken up enough of Steve's time."

Natasha appeared at his side. "Let's go inside, children, and I will tell you a story. Would you like to hear it in Russian?"

Screaming and yelling, the children followed Natasha, and soon, all was quiet again. Steve came to Bucky's side, hands in his pockets, a nostalgic smile on his face. "You have a beautiful family, Buck. You're very lucky."

"Yes, I am." He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "They're your family now too, Steve. And not just because you're dating Joi." They fell silent for a few minutes, each lost in thought. From the look on Steve's face, he had to be thinking about how different his life would've been had he not volunteered to take the serum. Then Bucky turned to look at Steve. " _Seriously_? You _jumped_ on a grenade?"

Steve shrugged sheepishly. Movement at the back door caught their attention. Serenity signed, _Time to get washed up for dinner, Gramps_.

Bucky responded, _On our way. Tell Natasha. She'll help herd the kids along_. To Steve, he said, "Dinner time."

~~O~~

Looking over her shoulder as she ushered the children inside, Natasha watched the two old friends talking. It hadn't taken long for them to pick up where they left off seventy years ago, and she found herself envious. The longest friendship she'd ever had was with Clint, and that was only a few years old.

She'd only just started the story when Serenity came to tell her it was time to eat. "We'll finish the story later, _moya lyubov'_. Let's get washed for dinner."

Natasha and the children followed Serenity to the downstairs bathroom, where she sent them in two at a time, checking hands and fingernails as they came out. Two had to be sent back again, grumbling all the way, and Gracie had needed help. When they were done, the kids swarmed into the dining room set up with a folding table pushed up against the formal one so that everyone could be together. Here, there was no separating the young ones from the adults. There was a bench seat on one side to make room for everyone.

Steve and Bucky came in, Steve going to Joi's side to hold her chair while Bucky held her hand as she stepped over the bench. Gracie was whispering to her mother, Nicole, Bucky's youngest daughter's only child. Nicole smiled, signing while she spoke. "Gramps, Gracie wants to sit with you and Natasha."

Without consulting him, Natasha waved the child over. "Of course, _malenkaya_."

Gracie ran around the table to squeeze in between them. Carolyn passed over Gracie's favorite Disney plate already filled, and the little girl grabbed both their hands. Confused, Natasha caught Bucky's eye. With his free hand, he spelled "prayer." She nodded, and offered her hand to the person next to her, Justin. The young man winked at her while rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, and reached for his brother's hand on the other side. Pursing her lips to keep from grinning, Natasha bowed her head while Carolyn's husband, Martin said the prayer.

~~O~~

"…We also thank you for the two newest members of our family, Steve and Natasha. Bless them and keep them safe when they're far from the comfort of a loving home. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen."

~~O~~

That night, after most of the family had left, and the ones staying the night had gone to sleep, Natasha was awakened by Bucky getting out of bed. He'd been careful not to make noise as he went downstairs.

Earlier, while she was helping with the washing up, Carolyn had sent Bucky and Martin on an errand, leaving Natasha, Carolyn, Olivia, Joi and Serenity alone. Using sign language, Carolyn had demanded to know what was going on.

 _Why is a woman your age with a man more than sixty years your senior?_

Natasha answered her inquiries truthfully. _I'm with him because I_ _like_ _him. He's fun to be around, kind, smart, caring. What I find most appealing about him is the love and pride he has for his family._

She thought the interrogation was over then Carolyn said _You just want him for his money. That's why you're here, isn't it?_

The woman's angry accusation cut deep. Keeping her temper with difficulty, Natasha had to put the woman in her place.

 _I'm here because James invited me. And just to set the record straight, I don't_ _need_ _or_ _want_ _your father's money. If you haven't done so already, I encourage you to do a full background check. I'll even provide you with my social security number. What you'll find is that I'm quite wealthy on my own. I have never taken anything from James but his time, which he gives freely. The only gift he's given me is this necklace for my birthday, and he did so though I told him not to bother. But you know how he is. Now, if it makes me a bad person to accept a gift from someone I care about, then nothing I can do or say will change your mind. But know this: He and I will continue seeing each other until one or the other decides to end it. Whether that's tomorrow or ten years from now will be_ _our_ _decision, and no one else's. If you have a problem with that, speak to your father._

Before Carolyn could formulate a response, the men had come back with a few of the guys in tow. Looking from one face to another, Martin crossed to his wife's side. "Something wrong, honey?"

She put on a smile. "We were just getting to know Natasha better."

"Good." He untied the apron around Carolyn's waist and set it on the counter. "Justin's warming up the piano. Why don't you ladies go listen and leave the rest of this to us?"

Throughout the remainder of the evening, Carolyn had watched Natasha with a curious expression, especially when Natasha had been encouraged by those present to sing a duet with Justin. They performed _Blue Moon_ , with him singing lead, and Natasha echoing. A little while later, Justin asked her to join him for _It Had to Be You_. Bucky had danced with Serenity, and Steve with Joi.

Now it was the middle of the night after a stressful, busy day. Once Bucky was in bed, he seldom got up again. Just to appease her curiosity, Natasha tiptoed down the stairs until she could hear voices in the kitchen. Bucky and Carolyn were having a quiet discussion, and the subject was Natasha.

She returned to the bedroom and got back in bed. A few minutes later, she heard a small voice crying in the hall. Gracie was standing in the open area in front of Bucky's room, one hand rubbing her eyes. Natasha knelt in front of her. "What's wrong, _malenkaya_?"

"Can't find da baffroom."

Standing, Natasha held out her hand, and the little girl grabbed on. "Come with me. You can use your Gramps' bathroom."

"Okay."

She took Gracie into the bathroom and stepped out while she did her business, leaving the door cracked. When she was done, Natasha helped wash her hands. She dried them for her, and led her to the door where Gracie tugged her to a stop. "C'n I s'eep witch you, Tasha?"

"Of course, _malenkaya_."

Natasha lay down, holding the covers up so Gracie could get in beside her, tucking the covers up to her neck. She brushed the girl's hair with her fingers, softly singing a Russian lullaby, and soon the child was asleep.

Bucky came back a short time later, and Natasha put a finger to her lips. He crouched next to the bed, kissed both of them on the forehead, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and went downstairs to sleep on the sofa. The door was left open so Gracie's parents would know where she was if they got up during the night, and soon, Natasha was asleep as well.

But her dreams were not pleasant. She dreamt of the Red Room, and the graduation ceremony she and the other girls had been forced into. In her sleep, she cuddled Gracie to her for comfort.

When she awoke in the morning, the girl had gone downstairs. Bucky and the rest of his family were up as well.

Natasha showered and dressed, and went downstairs to join them, drawn by the enticing scent of coffee. Carolyn was there as well, doing her best to avoid eye contact throughout the meal.

After lunch, the families packed up their vehicles and headed for home, leaving the big house feeling empty and lonely.

She was in the kitchen getting a refill on coffee when Bucky slipped his arms around her waist, giving her a squeeze. "We should take a trip together. Get away from D.C. for a few days."

"Where would you like to go?"

"You like skiing?"

Moving out of his arms, she went around the counter and hitched herself onto one of the tall chairs. "Not really. We should go somewhere warm." She looked at him over the rim of her cup. "Unless you don't like warm."

"I'm not picky." Bucky came to sit next to her. "Las Vegas for a little gambling? Maybe take in a show or two."

~~O~~

Her eyes issued a mild reprimand to go with her words. "The last time you mentioned Las Vegas it was in the form of a marriage proposal. We've talked about it, James, and the answer is still no. Even more so now that Carolyn believes I'm after your money. And it's likely she's not the only one. The others have just been nice enough not to say it out loud."

"I had a talk with her the other night. Told her to lay off." Bucky slid onto the seat next to her. Natasha was the most independent woman he'd ever known. That they'd been together this long he felt was close to a miracle. He counted himself lucky that she kept coming back because he fully expected her to take it into her head not to return after one of her business trips. What she did on these trips, he didn't want to know. Not that she could tell him due to the classified nature.

Taking her cup, Bucky set it on the counter and moved in close, his hands smoothing up and down her biceps. "Why won't you marry me, Tasha? Is it your job? Because I'm okay with it. You've known that from the start. Or is it my family?"

"James…" He stopped her with a kiss. She leaned back, watching him with those wide, unblinking green eyes, almost as if she knew what he was coming next. But how could she? He'd only made the decision a moment ago.

"No, don't tell me. And I won't ask again. Next time, _you'll_ have to do the asking." Natasha didn't resist when he gathered her close. Her slender arms went around his waist, and she sighed against his chest. "Let's have a baby."

 **TBC**

 _Blue Moon_ is a classic popular song written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart in 1934.

 _It Had to Be You_ is a popular song written by Isham Jones, with lyrics by Gus Kahn. It was first published in 1924.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 7**

Natasha pushed out of Bucky's arms, knocking over her chair. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't squeak. "What?"

His eyebrows drew together over his nose, arms dropping to his side. "A baby. You and me." He waved at the photos of his family. "I'm obviously fertile. And you and me, we've got it _all_ going on, honey. Looks, charm, smarts. We would make the most _beautiful_ baby on the planet, or babies, if you want more than one."

"But…"

"Once the baby's born, I'll do it all. I'll be a stay at home dad while you travel for work. I'd want you to move in, of course."

"James…"

"I have a job to supplement my pension, and the baby could go to the museum with me. And when you're home, we'd do the family thing. Go to the park and the playground, movies, PTA meetings, soccer games, what have you…"

" _James_ …"

"…Unless you'd rather home school. Steven's a teacher. I'm sure he'd help."

Bucky was so excited about the prospect of them being parents together that Natasha wanted to agree, but she couldn't. One of the few things about her past she hadn't shared with him was her life in the Red Room. She had hoped to never have to tell him, but couldn't let this train of thought continue, only to be disappointed when it never happened.

Natasha led him to the living room sofa, sat beside him, and held his hand. He looked at her with curiosity and expectation, and she hated herself for what she was about to say. But more, she hated that she had to say it. "James, there are things about my past I haven't told you. I thought none of it mattered because we cared about each other enough to make past sins insignificant." She looked down at their linked hands. "I told you I was brought up in an all-girls orphanage, but that was another lie. My parents were killed in a house fire when I was very young. Less than a month later, I was taken to a place called the Red Room where I was trained as a spy and an assassin."

"Tasha…"

"Please, let me finish." She got to her feet, and turned her back, needing to put some distance between them. "When training is complete, there's a graduation ceremony. They sterilize you. It's efficient. One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything… easier." One shoulder went up and down. "Even killing. _Especially_ the killing."

For a long time, Bucky didn't say anything. Natasha wanted to make this as painless as possible for him, for both of them. "I should go…"

The sofa creaked as Bucky stood, and in the quiet, it grated on her nerves. His big warm hands lightly touched her biceps. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" he whispered.

"Wasn't relevant until now." She felt warmth at her back a moment before he turned her into his embrace. Holding her close, he pressed her head onto his shoulder. The solid thump-thump of his heartbeat under her hand soothed her mind, and her eyes drifted shut.

"I fought in three different wars, WWII, Korea, _and_ Vietnam. Do you know how many people I personally killed in all that time? More than _you_ have or ever will, and I did it because my country asked me to. I didn't even know them, the people I killed. They were just 'the enemy'.

"As a soldier, you can't see them as real people, Tasha. People who had families-a wife, kids, mother, father, siblings-or you'd be useless at your job. But I remember every single one of them. Not their names, but their faces." His voice was soft, barely audible. "They haunt me at night just the way you're haunted by the things you've done. No one is perfect, Tasha. Not me. Not you. Not even Steve, though he comes pretty close. But it's those imperfections, your past, if you will, that made you the woman I care about." They stood like that for what seemed like hours before he spoke again. "So, a dog then."

Smiling at his attempt to make her feel better, she dug her fingers into his shirt. "Cat."

"I meant cat. The most adorable one we can find. Or two. They'll be our children, and we'll turn them into Internet sensations."

~~O~~

The Camaro cruised to a stop in a visitor's space, and shut off. Steve didn't want their time to be over so soon, but here they were at Joi's apartment, and he couldn't come up with a reason for them to stay together beyond the obvious. On more than a few occasions, Joi had made it clear that she was ready to take the next step, for them to be intimate. Almost six months in this century, and he wasn't any closer to understanding women that he was back in the forties, before or after the serum.

He was taken aback when Joi announced, "My mother thinks we're sleeping together."

"Why would she think that?"

Joi reached for his hand still holding the steering wheel, gripping it lightly. "We've been dating since May, Steve. In this century, that's like forever. Couples in a monogamous relationship are often living together by now." She waited for him to look at her, which he did reluctantly. "I didn't tell her we haven't spent the night together yet because then she'd think something was wrong with one of us. And by us, I mean _you_."

Tilting his head to the side, Steve thought over all his reasons for waiting, and realized that none of them were worth thinking about. He got out and she did too, meeting at the trunk. Steve hooked her bags over his shoulder and took hold of her hand, giving her a half-smile he hoped she'd find sexy. "Come on."

"Okay. Um, what's with the weird smile? You're kinda freakin' me out here, babe."

In the lobby, Steve pulled her close. "Wouldn't want your mom to think you're a liar."

"So?" He waited, and she soon figured it out. Her eyes widened and her breathing sped up. "Oh."

"You want to, don't you?"

Joi's hands skimmed over his chest, up and around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a hot kiss as her answer. She stepped out of his embrace, grabbed his hand and headed up the stairs. At her door, she fumbled with the key. He took it from her, opened the door, and ushered her inside, kicking the door shut while she attacked his lips.

He pulled away long enough to drop her bags on the sofa then picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

~~O~~

Natasha opened her eyes, unsure what had awakened her. She rolled over to see if Bucky had heard it as well, but he was gone. He seldom got up during the night, and this was the second night in a row. The first night, he was telling his daughter to butt out of his love life.

Not wanting to disturb whatever he was doing, she lay back down and hugged his pillow, breathing in his scent, and soon, she'd been lulled back to sleep. She awoke hours later when he came back to bed. When he didn't immediately spoon her against his chest, she rolled over to cuddle against his side, and was soon asleep again.

In the morning, Natasha was jolted out of a sound sleep by her phone. She rushed to shut it off. It was a message from Hill regarding her newest mission. Her return to the Triskelion for the briefing wasn't urgent, allowing her time to have breakfast with Bucky before she left. However, he was still out, lying face down on the other side of the bed with the pillow over his head.

She crept around the room gathering her things and packing her bag. So she wouldn't wake him, she used the downstairs bathroom to shower and change. By the time she was done, Bucky still hadn't come down, and she didn't blame him. He'd been up for hours during the night, and was probably exhausted.

The coffee maker gurgled through the end of the cycle. Taking down two cups, Natasha poured one for herself, sipping from it in between gathering the ingredients for omelets. She'd just dropped bread into the toaster when Bucky came into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his chest, looking like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row. He poured coffee, gave her a quick kiss, and went to sit at the counter. "My head's pounding, and I feel like I haven't slept in a week. I never get headaches, and haven't had trouble sleeping since WWII, but this is like the third time in two months."

"That's what you get for staying up half the night, _lyubimaya_." She slid the omelets onto plates, added a slice of buttered toast to each and joined him at the counter.

He used a fork to cut the omelet, dropping half of it onto the toast as an open faced sandwich. "What're you talking about?"

"Last night. I woke up and you were gone. Came back hours later, and went right to sleep."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Don't remember."

Natasha bit off a piece of toast, chewed and swallowed before responding. "Ever sleepwalked?"

"Not that I recall or have been told."

"Mention it to your doctor the next time you go. Just in case it's a symptom of something serious."

Bucky chewed a bite of his toast and omelet, and washed it down with coffee. "I have an appointment next week. They like to poke and prod and take all sorts of bodily fluids every few months because of…" he gestured at himself.

She carried her plate and cup to the sink, and came back to give him a kiss. "I'll be out of town for a week or so. We'll talk about the cat when I get back."

He smiled affectionately. "Okay. Have a good trip."

~~O~~

Sitting in what Selvig called his nest, a catwalk near the ceiling of the enormous lab, Clint let his eyes roam over the work area, and just like it had every day, nothing was out of place. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to do. At least once a week, he went through their computers checking for suspicious activity, finding none.

This job had been boring from day one. He hadn't wanted to take it, but had been flattered by Fury's praise of his skills. Every time he let his ego make the decisions, it turned out bad. Like now. He wanted to head home for a visit, but couldn't convince Selvig to shut down. Not even for the weekend. If he didn't get some downtime with his family soon, he'd go insane and start killing people, starting with Selvig. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't. But this job was the _pits_. Making his own fun gave him something to do besides watch and listen to a bunch of geeks speaking in the language of their people. If he understood one word in ten, it was a good day. But today was not looking good for it. Neither was tomorrow.

Intensity of conversation where there usually was none caught his attention. A couple of scientists had their heads together, pointing at a monitor, and shaking their heads. Out of the ordinary, to be sure, but not so much as to cause concern. Still, his job was to end problems before they began.

Clint strapped himself into the rappelling rig, and whizzed down to the floor. He easily avoided all the cables and electrical cords, coming to stand behind the two he'd seen from above. "Something you'd like to share, docs?"

~~O~~

Bucky had the television on while he worked on the Howling Commandoes project, listening with only one ear until a particular news story caught his interest.

"… _Today, family and friends of Audelle Cohen, are in mourning. Her body was discovered inside a 1997 Nissan Maxima abandoned on State Route 1542. She was last seen at the local Target store where she told her mother she'd gone to shop for Christmas gifts for her family and friends. Camera footage shows her leaving just before closing, alone._

" _The Hubert High School valedictorian was found early this morning by a pair of cyclists getting in an early morning ride ahead of the snow storm predicted for later this week. She'd been dead for less than twelve hours. Though the coroner is reluctant to say for sure, she did tell this reporter that the gunshot wound to the head appeared to be self-inflicted. An autopsy is planned, and the results will be made known in the next few weeks._

" _Audelle had just begun her first year of medical school with an eye toward becoming a genetic researcher specializing in the effects of Gamma radiation on the human genome. She is survived by her parents and three siblings. A memorial service will be arranged once the autopsy has been completed._

" _Stay tuned to WHAM for all of your up-to-the-minute news, sports, weather and entertainment. Back to you, Sally._ "

The camera lingered on a photo of a pretty African-American girl approximately eighteen. She was dressed in a green graduation robe and cap. The caption underneath said, _Audelle Rene Cohen, 1993-2011_.

Uncertain why this particular blurb should spark his interest, Bucky used the remote to shut it off. He sat back in his chair, sliding down on his spine while yawning and rubbing his eyes. Natasha had only been gone for an hour, and he missed her already. How would he last ten days?

Going over their conversation, he mentally slapped himself on the back of the head. "What the _hell_ were you _thinking_ , Barnes, asking Natasha to have a baby with you?"

He went to the window and looked out at the light dusting of snow that had started a day earlier than expected. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he thought about the first time he'd asked her to marry him. Natasha had taken it as a joke, and he'd admitted to himself that, at the time, he was only half serious. Okay, more than half. He cared for her, and was somewhat certain that she felt the same though neither of them had spelled it out. That added to the fact that each proposal had come after they'd spent the night making love, in his mind, equaled the reason she kept saying no.

He went over his "calculations" again to be sure, and came up with several different scenarios. What if she was already married, and hadn't gotten a divorce? Or had she been badly hurt by someone? He refused to consider that she was incapable of loving or being loved because he felt her passion each time they touched, even if it was just holding hands.

In his experience, all women wanted to be swept off their feet, no matter what they said. Women like Natasha, for whom seduction was a way of life, needed it more than most because of who they are, or who they had to pretend to be in order to complete a mission. Bucky understood it more than most men. He told her that the next proposal had to come from her, but he hadn't meant it, though he had told the truth when he said the next time would be the last.

The best thing to do was to wait long enough that she'd think he'd given up. Then he'd take her for a special dinner, and a carriage ride along the waterfront where he would profess his love, and ask her one more time. If she still said no, he would settle for what she was willing to give, for as long as she would have him.

The pain meds Bucky had taken for his headache were wearing off, making his head throb again. He didn't have allergies, nor had he ever suffered from stress, tension or migraine headaches. But this felt different. When his son Steven was in his first year of college, he'd gotten his nose broken during football practice. And this headache felt the way Steven had described having it reset, as if someone were pounding a metal stake into the middle of his forehead. He went to his room, popped two more ibuprofen and lay down on the bed.

At some point, Natasha had come upstairs and made the bed even though he told her he'd take care of it; a holdover from Army life. He pulled the pillow from the other side of the bed and held it to his nose. It still smelled like her. Soft and warm like a towel fresh from the dryer. Rolling onto his side, he cuddled the pillow to his chest, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

~~O~~

The coffee shop was bustling with activity, shoppers taking advantage of something called Black Friday. Steve didn't understand why people thought they had to get their Christmas shopping done the day after Thanksgiving when Christmas was a month away.

At least the table in the corner was relatively quiet. He placed a cup in front of Joi, and slid into the chair next to her, dropping his free arm around her shoulders. She sipped her coffee, giggling when he kissed her on the ear. "Steve!"

"What? You don't like it?"

"I do, it's just… I didn't think you were the PDA type."

He leaned back to look at her face. "PDA?"

"Public Displays of Affection." She looked away and back. "Ready for the morning after talk?"

"Is that really a thing, or are you trying to embarrass me?"

Joi took a long drink, and returned the cup to the table. "I would never purposely embarrass you, Steve. And yes, it really is a thing. Ask Gramps and Natasha."

"Now that you brought it up, I do have one question, or maybe just a comment." Steve thought about the best way to word what he wanted to say. "I was under the impression that most women took pills to prevent, uh…"

"Pregnancy? Many do. Some can't take the pills so they use other means. But condoms aren't just for birth control like they were back in the day. They also help prevent STDs. Um, sexually transmitted diseases. Not that I think _you_ have them, and I know _I_ don't. It's just a good idea."

Steve nodded though he didn't completely understand. All he could think about at the moment was making love to Joi again. And while he knew they had to stop sometime, he couldn't help thinking about their night together. The feel of her skin sliding against his. The look in her eyes as they moved together. The sounds she made at the end. And the smile on her face as she slept in his arms. He wanted to do it again and again and again, until they were both too tired to go on.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone beeped. He read the display with an annoyed huff. "It's work." He gave Joi one last kiss, and stood. "Gotta go. I'll call you later."

He finished his coffee, and tossed the cup in the trash can by the door, resisting looking back.

Steve kick-started the bike, and turned toward SHIELD headquarters. He pulled into the parking garage, shut the bike down, and took the stairs up to Hill's office, expecting Natasha to already be there, surprised when she wasn't.

"I need a favor, Captain Rogers." Hill passed him a tablet as he took a seat in the small sitting area. She perched on the arm of the love seat, and reached over his shoulder to touch the screen, bringing up what looked like crime scene photos. "I need you to take a road trip, make some discreet inquiries into a suspicious death."

"Where?"

"Iowa City."

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 8**

Clint put the finishing touches on his weekly report and sent it off to Hill for review, including the graphs and charts showing the Tesseract occasionally spiking. Selvig and his staff were having so little success in making it work Fury instituted a mandatory weekend off to rest and relax. That meant Clint wasn't due back at the lab until 0600 Monday. If he left now, he could spend a full forty-eight hours with his family.

Two hours later, he opened the front door to Lila crying, Cooper playing a video game, and his wife cooking dinner. He picked Lila up, and she immediately stopped crying. Laura wiped her hands on a towel and gave him a kiss hello. Over his shoulder, Cooper said, "Hey, Dad" in a distracted tone.

"Cooper, turn that off and come see your dad."

Clint shook his head. "It's okay. We have plenty of time."

He followed her into the kitchen. "How much time?"

"Have to be back Monday at 0600." Lila reached for a toy on the counter. Clint gave it to her, and she immediately stuck it in her mouth. "Teething?"

Over her shoulder, Laura said, "Yes. Two teeth. That's why she's crying all the time. Don't want to give her pain meds unless I have to, but I've tried everything else."

"Stark could probably invent something, but…"

"I know, love. She'll be fine." Laura turned around to hug them both. "We all will."

Lila reached for her mother, and Clint passed her over. "Here. I'll finish dinner. Go relax."

Clint received a kiss as a reward for h is thoughtfulness. Standing at the stove, he felt a sense of peace that had been absent at work. But peace for himself wasn't a requirement when he was instrumental in providing future generations with a world that was safe, and that had been his motivation for taking a position with SHIELD in the first place.

The timer dinged. Time to check the biscuits.

~~O~~

Sitting on the arm of the small sofa with her hip touching Steve's arm, Hill reached over to scroll through the crime scene photos. She used her SHIELD position to get them, though parts had been redacted, and she had to know what and why. But she couldn't tell him why this crime caused the hairs on her neck and arms to vibrate. Something about it seemed off. Why would a high school valedictorian with no history of mental illness suddenly decide to kill herself? Hill had done such a thorough background check on the deceased, her family, friends and acquaintances that she knew things about them that even _they_ didn't know. The Cohen family going back several generations was actually pretty boring. Audelle wasn't the first to go to college, though she was the first to attend medical school.

"Why me? I've never been undercover before."

One side of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "That's why. No one would suspect Captain America of investigating a death that's been ruled a suicide."

"It's tempting, but I'm no good at pretending to be someone I'm not. What if I'm caught?"

"You're not going to be undercover in the strictest sense, Captain Rogers. You're still big news. People will fall all over themselves to talk to you. Subtle questioning will get you answers that no one else could." She felt the change in him. He was almost ready to agree. Almost. "Would you do it if I send someone as a sort of guide or mentor?"

The wheels inside Steve's head were turning. He was intrigued by the thought of going undercover. All he needed was a small push.

"Who?"

"Romanoff's out of the country, and Barton's on assignment. Because this is a personal rather than professional favor, it'll be you and me." She shut down the tablet. "You have homework tonight. We leave in twenty-four hours." Getting to her feet, Hill went back to her desk. "And bring the shield, just in case."

Just for a split second, it looked like Steve would decline. Then, he nodded, and her senses were tickled again. Something else she couldn't quit explain. "Something's different about you, Captain Rogers."

A brief flash of guilt flared in his expression and was gone. "Different how, Commander Hill?"

"Not sure. It's almost as if…" Hill didn't know how to end that sentence without embarrassing Steve because her radar told her that he'd recently had sex with someone. "Never mind."

He picked up the tablet, and moved toward the door. "I have an appointment. Tomorrow, 1500?"

Hill nodded. "Don't be late."

Steve grinned. "I've only been late twice."

~~O~~

Annoyed that his plans with Joi for the next night would be delayed, Steve tucked the tablet into the seat compartment of his bike, swung his leg over, and fired it up. When he reached his apartment, he called Joi to let her know he had to go out of town for a few days. She was disappointed too, but understood that work had to come first with him the way it did with her.

He toed off his shoes, turned on some music, and kicked back on the sofa to read the information Hill had given him, committing it all to memory. The parts that had been blacked out bothered him just as they did Hill. He didn't know what he could bring to the table for this mission except his celebrity status, but Hill obviously thought otherwise or she wouldn't have asked for his help. Unless his job was to be a distraction while she did all the snooping.

For some reason, Steve kept coming back to Audelle Cohen's intended area of study. It reminded him of something he read not long after he first met Director Fury in the streets of New York. Something about a scientist who had been overdosed with Gamma radiation. Instead of killing him, he'd been changed at a chromosomal level. He couldn't remember the name of the scientist, but it didn't matter because he didn't foresee a reason for them to ever meet.

Steve's cell phone beeped with an incoming message. This one came from Fury's senior agent, Phil Coulson. They hadn't met in person. However, the man had a near obsession with Steve and his life. He would text him with questions, and Steve would answer them in as much detail as he could, not wanting to discourage him though he felt some of the information he requested to be a little too personal. Some of what happened he didn't want to talk about and said so. And though Coulson indicated that he understood, without saying a word, he made Steve feel like a heel for refusing.

However, this time the message was different. _Per Commander Hill, take-off rescheduled for 0900 Monday_. _Confirm_.

Using his thumb, Steve tapped out _Confirmed_. Setting the tablet and phone aside, he went to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. He'd just pulled down the covers when someone knocked on the front door.

Making no noise, he carefully approached the door, picking up the shield on the way. Turning his head to the side, he listened to the person breathing and fidgeting, recognizing the sounds. He set the shield against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room and opened the door.

Joi smiled tentatively, as if she wasn't certain she'd be welcomed. "Sorry for dropping by without calling, but I was in the neighborhood and saw your light on." Her eyes noticed how he was dressed. "You're about to go to bed. I'll go."

"Please stay." Steve drew her inside, shut the door, and embraced her. She pressed her hands against his chest, tilting her head back to see his face, and he kissed her as if they hadn't seen each other weeks instead of just that morning. He took her purse and tossed it on the sofa at the same time she grabbed his hand to lead him to the bedroom. The door slammed behind them, and Steve tumbled them onto the bed.

They spent all the next day and that night enjoying their time together. Much of it was spent in bed or watching a movie on cable. In addition to the suggestions others had given him, Joi made a few of her own.

He awoke alone in bed when the morning sun came in through his bedroom window. A note from Joi was propped on the bedside table. She offered no explanation for showing up at his door when she hadn't really been anywhere nearby, but Steve didn't care as long as they spent time together.

She'd signed the note, _Yours, Joi_ , and he wondered exactly what it meant. Was she telling him that she thought of herself as his? That she wanted more than what they had, a formal commitment? Did she expect them to eventually marry and start a family? Could he even have kids?

At this moment, Steve longed for the days when men understood women a little better. Then he remembered something that Howard Stark had once said.

 _The moment you think you know what's going on in a woman's head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked._

With that in mind, Steve tucked the note out of sight on his way to the closet to pack for his trip to Iowa City with Hill. His phone beeped with an incoming text, a photo of Steve and Joi together. It had been taken at Bucky's after Thanksgiving dinner, by Bucky. To Steve, that meant his friend approved of their relationship, and that made it easier on everyone, even Joi's mother Carolyn, who was busy disapproving of her father's involvement with Natasha.

Even with a seventy-year gap in their friendship, Steve knew his friend well enough to know that he'd fallen for Natasha almost immediately. Whether Natasha felt the same, he couldn't tell. She cared enough about Bucky to keep seeing him, but Steve wasn't sure that meant love, or something else. What did they call it? Friends with benefits. He looked it up. The term was described as friends who carry on a casual sexual relationship, one with little or no emotional involvement.

Steve hadn't seen or spoken to Natasha in weeks, and certainly not about Bucky. They would have to at some point, because he had to know if she cared about Bucky or was just using him to not be lonely when she wasn't on assignment.

He zipped the oversized duffle bag made to carry the shield, hooked it and his bag of clothes over his shoulder, and took one last turn through the apartment to make sure everything was turned off, locking the door on the way out.

 **Iowa City**

 **Casa Verde Hotel**

Hill knocked on Steve's door, and he let her in, giving her a curious look, which she answered with a grin. He'd never seen her in anything but her SHIELD uniform. Tonight, she was dressed for undercover work. Jeans, a purple top that showed a hint of cleavage, and heels, with her hair loose around her shoulders, and sparkling hoops in her ears. Her make-up had been carefully applied to bring out her blue eyes, and enhance her cheekbones. Steve found her unquestionably attractive without it, but now she looked stunning. Her walk was different too, hips swaying side to side making her appear sultry, inviting, approachable.

Hill took a seat at the small table without an invitation. She pulled the tablet to her. "We'll start by taking a drive through town, just to get the lay of the land." Peering at him curiously, she asked, "Something wrong, Steve?"

He cleared his throat just for something to do until he could think. "No. I've just never seen you…" he waved a hand to indicate the way she was dressed. "And this is the first time you've called me Steve."

Her lips pursed, making her look thoughtful. "We're undercover. Makes our cover more believable if we don't call each other 'Commander Hill' and 'Captain Rogers'."

"Of course, Maria." Steve turned the other chair around and straddled the seat. "We'll be going together or separate?"

"Together to start. Just until you get a feel for it. Basically, all you do is let yourself be seen, talk to a few people, make up something to explain why you're there. Just passing through, trying something new, looking for a good meal, visiting family or friends. The important thing is to be consistent and make it believable. Tell the same story to everyone, or make it vague. Because you've been in the news lately, you may be recognized. Play along. Sign autographs, take pictures, kiss a few babies."

Steve filed everything away for later use. When Hill stood, he did as well. "As long as it's nothing more. You wouldn't _believe_ some of the things women-and _men_ -have asked me to do."

Hill laughed out loud, the first time he'd ever seen or heard her do more than smile or chuckle politely, and found that he liked the sound.

"I've lived in this era all my life, Steve. Not much would surprise me." They left the room, and she led the way to their rental car, going to the passenger door. The keys sailed through the air, and Steve caught them. "You do the driving. I'll do the spying. Go past the ME's office next to the police station so we can check out security. We need to get the originals of the redacted files my contact sent."

"How?"

Turning sideways in her seat as far as the seatbelt would allow she raised an eyebrow at him. Steve didn't have long to wait to find out what it meant. "Play up to someone who has access and convince that person to take one or the other of us on a tour of the morgue."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"We go with Plan B."

Steve huffed genially. "And that is?"

"We break in and steal them, of course."

 **A Few Days Later**

Hill crouched beside Steve behind a stand of thick bushes peering through the branches, waiting for the security guard to finish his rounds. Once he was gone, they cautiously made their way to the rear entrance. They'd spent hours observing, and found that this particular door's alarm didn't work. From the casual way the employees let themselves in and out, it had been broken for some time.

Keeping her voice low, Hill told Steve, "Keep a look-out while I let us in."

He turned his back, glancing over his shoulder. "Are lock picks standard issue with SHIELD?"

"Not really. Most field agents buy their own. It's a personal thing." She knelt down, opened the small leather case, and extracted two long, slender pieces of metal. "I got these from Barton in a Secret Santa gift exchange a couple years ago. This'll only take a few seconds…"

She probed inside the lock until it released, and the door cracked open, but before she could tell Steve, he pulled her into his arms, turned and pressed her up against the door. Hill opened her mouth to reprimand him. However, before she could utter a single word, he was kissing her. It had been years since she had allowed anyone to get this close, and at first, she just let it happen. Then Steve relaxed, and she did too, enjoying the sensations he evoked so effortlessly.

He backed off just enough to say, "Someone's coming", and kissed her again. Now that Hill knew why he'd kissed her, she could hear the sound of rubber soled shoes slapping on the concrete, coming closer. With her free hand, she reached inside her jacket for her weapon, annoyed when he placed a hand over hers and guided it back into the holster. Their eyes locked as they came together for another kiss, this one so hot and steamy that Hill momentarily forgot why they were there. She framed his face with her hands, brushing the tip of her tongue over the crease of his lips. He gasped, and she took the opportunity to engage his tongue in battle.

The footsteps stopped behind them. "Move along, you two. This ain't no lover's lane. Go get a freakin' room."

Steve pulled back, and when his arms loosened, Hill ducked around him, taking the guard out with a one-two punch to the jaw. The man's eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.

"That was amazing," Steve whispered with awe. "Taking out the guard, I mean."

Hill got the feeling he hadn't been talking about the punch, but she didn't call him on it. "Let's do this, Rogers. Door's open."

~~O~~

Steve and Hill made their way down a long tiled hallway to a set of stairs that took them to the basement. A set of swinging doors were inset into the right wall. She peeked in the window set in the top half, and motioned him to follow. The room was empty of people, alive that is. The most prominent features were the shiny silver tables with lights above, and a lighted magnifier clamped to one corner. At the far end of the room were a double row of what looked like freezer doors, but these wouldn't contain anything edible.

Hill powered up the computer, her fingers typing so fast they were a blur. She scoffed, talking to herself, "You really need to change your password, doofus. I'm in." She stuck her hand out.

Digging in his jacket pocket, Steve pulled out a metal stick shorter than his thumb, and laid it in her hand. She stuck it in the side of the computer and returned to typing. Bored, Steve wandered restlessly around the room, peering into glass fronted cabinets. He was about to open one of the freezer doors when Hill said, "Don't touch anything."

He went to the double doors, looking left and right, seeing just the tiled walls, and the lift at the far end. The whir of the car coming down startled them both. Hill yanked the thumb drive from the computer, and shoved it in her pocket as she shut down.

Steve waved at her to hurry, but the lift doors opened before they could leave. Hill opened the freezer doors until she found one that was empty, and pulled the tray out. "Get in!"

" _What_? No!"

"There's no place else to hide, Steve."

Reluctantly, he lay down, Hill pushed him inside, and shut the door, leaving it open just enough that he could get out on his own.

~~O~~

A man dressed in green scrubs and carrying a tablet came into the autopsy room, stumbling to a stop at the sound of a woman crying. Watching her warily, he asked, "How'd you get down here?"

She sniffed into a tissue. "The cops said my husband was brought here. No one was at the desk, so I just came on down."

"If that's true then one of the detectives would've come with you." The man picked up the phone hanging on the wall to the left of the doors, but before he could call security, Hill took a frantic step forward.

"Please don't call them. I just… I need to know if he's here. Raymond Flanders. He's forty, six feet, brown hair, green eyes, and has a tattoo of a cross on his left bicep. He left for work last week and never came home. I haven't heard from him since, and his cell phone's turned off."

Giving in, the man booted up the computer, and read through the list of names. "Closest we got is a fifty-two year-old male, five-nine, dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The rest are women. Four died of natural causes, and the fifth was a hit and run. No Raymond anything, and no one matching that description for at least a month."

Her face lit up, and she threw her arms around the attendant, turning him so his back was to the coolers, sobbing loudly. "Thank God! That means he could still be alive."

Steve peeked out and Hill motioned for him to hurry. He jumped out, carefully pushed the tray back in, and closed the door. In the hall, he caught her eye and motioned to the exit where they'd gained entrance.

Hill released the attendant and rushed to the lifts. She pressed the call button, and when the car arrived, she pressed the ground floor button, yanking her hand out before the doors could close. Moving without a sound, she returned to the exit where Steve had gone, slipping out and closing it behind them.

The guard was still unconscious. Steve picked him up and propped him against the side of the building, and patting him on the cheek. "Sweet dreams, pal."

When they reached the hotel, Steve walked Hill to her door. He seemed about to say something then changed his mind. "Good night, Maria."

"Night, Steve." Inside her room, Hill let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, relieved that Steve hadn't tried to kiss her again. If he had… She cut off that train of thought, and pulled the thumb drive from her pocket, debating if she wanted to wade through the stolen information tonight or go over it with Steve in the morning. After a good night's sleep would be best. That way both she and Steve would be well rested and able to concentrate.

Undressing in the bedroom, Hill walked naked to the bathroom for a shower, wishing she could stop thinking about the kisses she and Steve had shared. She knew he had a girlfriend, and didn't want to come between them. Then there was the fact that Steve Rogers, Captain America, wasn't the cheating kind. Hill had no qualms about it, but you needed a willing partner or all it got you was frustration. Kind of like now.

Dressed in pajama pants, a long sleeved t-shirt and socks, Hill pulled down the covers and propped the pillows against the headboard so she could watch television until she was ready to sleep, which probably wouldn't be for a long time.

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 9**

Try as he might, Steve couldn't banish the image _or_ the sensations of the kisses he'd shared with Maria from his head. He'd done it the first time to throw off the guard, and the other times because he wanted to. And that made him feel like he'd cheated on Joi though they had no formal commitment beyond a monogamous pairing.

He went back and forth on whether or not to tell her, and decided against it. There would hardly be a situation where he and Hill would be in a position of having to pretend to be lovers again because he'd only taken this mission as a favor.

Though he wanted to hear her voice, it was too late to call Joi to wish her good night. Instead of showering, Steve changed into his pajamas and lay down on top of the covers waiting for sleep. When it didn't come within a reasonable amount of time, he called room service, and ate in front of the television watching one of the movies that had been suggested by Bucky, _Fatal Attraction_.

Twenty minutes into it, he wondered if his friend had made the suggestion as a cautionary tale that had to do with Steve dating his granddaughter. When he tired of the machinations of the crazed female protagonist, he switched over to the cartoon channel to watch _The Flintstones_.

 **Java Junction**

 **A Few Days Later**

Joi snagged the table in the corner a millisecond before a couple, smiling as though they were long lost friends. They glared at her and walked away. The weather had turned cold, and this was the only table that was protected from the cold blasts of air as people entered and left.

She ordered a soy latte for herself, and by the time it was ready, her grandfather had arrived. He divested himself of his jacket and hat, laying them in the unoccupied chair. With Christmas coming, the air was filled with cheerful music that built up the spirit of the season. Joi loved Christmas. The bright lights, tinsel, and garland, cards, stockings and trimming the tree. She especially enjoyed this Christmas because it would be the first she spent with Steve. Not only that, but she'd received some good news just that morning. It came in the form of a phone call to follow-up on a letter sent by courier.

"What're you having, Gramps? My treat."

Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. "Will you _please_ call me James, Ez? People will think you're nuts calling someone Gramps who doesn't even look old enough to be your father."

Joi was in too good a mood to argue with him. She went away and came back with black coffee and a blueberry muffin. "They'll just think it's a joke or a nickname." One of the baristas walked by with a mop. "Excuse me." She pointed at Bucky. "He's my grandfather."

The harried young man rolled his eyes. "And I'm the friggin' _Pope_ , sweetheart. Call me 'your eminence'."

With a smug grin, Joi brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. "Told you." He shrugged and looked out the window. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't heard from Natasha in over a week."

"And you miss her." Bucky looked at her and nodded. Joi understood. "Steve's been gone almost that long, and no phone calls. But I have something to cheer us both up." She dug out the envelop with the fancy, embossed invitation and pushed it across the table. He pulled it out and read it while she summarized. "I've been invited to appear on _Chef vs. Chef Challenge_. We start filming in January, and it'll be broadcast on The Cuisine Channel in April. The winner gets fifty grand, and the chance to audition for their own cooking show."

Just as Joi had anticipated, Bucky's glum mood evaporated. "That's fantastic, Ezzie!" He hugged her tight. "Congratulations! What did your mom say when you told her?"

"Oh, you know Mom. She thinks I'm going to be the next Rachael Ray. By fall, she expects me to be a media star with my own line of product endorsements, cookbooks, and webisodes. And she hasn't said so, but she would go through the roof if Steve and I were to announce our engagement by June at the latest. Didn't bother to tell her that I don't think we're not headed for marriage."

"Why not? You make a cute couple."

Joi shrugged one shoulder. "What he and I have works for now, but I get the feeling it may not be the forever kind of relationship. I care about Steve. I'm just not sure I'm in love with him."

Again, her grandfather's expression turned gloomy as he fiddled with his empty cup. Joi took the hint and got him a refill, and he thanked her with a smile. After a while, he set the cup aside and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I asked Natasha to marry me."

Joi snorted into her cup as she took a sip. "If you're expecting me to be surprised, don't. I saw it coming a mile away. What did she say?"

"I asked her three times, and she said no, no and _nyet_ respectively."

"I'm sorry. Did she give a reason?"

He shook his head. "I love her, and I think she loves me too, but she wouldn't say. On the upside, when she gets home from her business trip, I'm going to ask her to move in. She spends most of her downtime at the house anyway. And we're getting a cat."

Joi's mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a snap. "Mom already thinks you and Natasha are a bad idea. She won't like having a woman half her age as a pseudo-step-mother." They shared a look, and chuckled.

~~O~~

Bucky reached for Joi's hand. "If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell _anyone_. Not your mother, your brothers, and especially not Steve. He's a terrible liar."

His granddaughter's eyebrows drew together over her nose. "Okay. I promise."

"You know I loved your grandmother, right?"

"Of course. She was the best. I still miss her."

"So do I." He looked down at the table top, unable to meet Joi's eyes. "The truth is we didn't always love each other. We dated before the war, and again after, but it was nothing serious. This went on for a while, and her family always thought we'd get married. What they didn't know was that Connie had fallen hard for a guy who was shipped out a few months after me. He was killed not long after. There was no one special for me, and rather than explain that we weren't in love, we got married. Eloped to New Jersey. Your mother was born the first year. By then, we'd come to love each other as more than friends, but we weren't _in love_. For sixty years, we were happy. We had four wonderful children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.

"We talked about divorce a few times after the kids had all moved out, mostly because of the difference in our apparent ages. She wasn't happy that I looked thirty plus years younger than her. Then your grandmother died suddenly. I was upset, of course. We'd been together for over sixty years. But rather than being heartbroken, I was… I was relieved."

"Oh, Gramps. I never knew."

Joi laid her hand over his, and he gripped it loosely. "That's just the point, Ez. No one was supposed to know. Afterward, I just didn't feel like going through the hassles that came with dating in the twenty-first century. I expected to live out the remainder of my life with family and a few close friends.

"Then one day, I found out that my best friend, whom I thought had died almost seventy years ago, was alive. He came to my office at the museum in the company of one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen."

"Natasha."

"Yes. This will sound utterly ridiculous given my advanced age, but for me, it was…" he sighed, "…love at first sight. I didn't know if she felt the same, though there was definitely a mutual attraction. And no one was more surprised than I when she agreed to go out to dinner with me." Bucky knew this was more information than his granddaughter needed or wanted, but he couldn't help it. He had to talk to someone, and they'd always been able to tell each other anything. "We've been together ever since. And every time she leaves on one of her business trips, I'm afraid she'll meet someone, and that will be the last I'll ever see of her."

Joi squeezed his hand to get him to look at her, and the smile of understanding helped him feel a little better.

"That's not going to happen, Gramps. I saw the way she looks at you. She may not say the words, but she loves you. So what if she won't marry you or move in with you? That doesn't mean she doesn't care. The two of you share something that will last a lifetime. I'm sure of it."

Bucky returned his granddaughter's smile. "You always know what to say, Ezzie. Thank you."

A shadow fell over the table, and the pair looked up at the face of a stranger. He was tall, with black hair, dark eyes, and a scowl. "Ms. Lockwood, my name is Frank Vitale, owner of Urbano Florentine on Draper Avenue. Perhaps you've heard of me."

Joi's features hardened into a scowl. "No, I haven't, Mr. Vitale. How do you know _my_ name?"

Frank leaned one hand on the table. Bucky was about to intervene when the toe of Joi's boot connected with his ankle.

"You and I have both been chosen for the _Chef vs. Chef Challenge_. And I'm here to tell you that I intend to _win_. You should do yourself a favor and drop out now, before you're humiliated in front of millions of viewers."

Bucky knew Joi could and would stand up for herself. He sat back to watch the fireworks. Too bad he didn't have popcorn.

Slapping her hands flat on the table, Joi slowly got to her feet. Frank stood up, showing himself to be over six feet tall and lean. Coming out from behind the table, Joi went toe to toe with him, one finger poking him in the chest. "Listen up, and listen good, _pal_. I don't back down from a fight. I was taught to always do my best even if I don't win, so hear this. Not only am I _not_ dropping out, consider _yourself_ warned. _I_ am winning this thing, and making my family proud. Now get out of my face before I let my grandfather beat the s*** out of you. It wouldn't be good for your image if people were to find out you were beaten up by a ninety-four-year-old man."

Frank looked from Joi to Bucky, who mockingly saluted him with his coffee cup, and back to Joi.

"Grandfather? Yeah, right. I'm going, but only because I have vendors coming to the restaurant, and they expect to be paid."

He turned around and left by the side door dragging bits of his dignity. Joi dropped into her seat to a smattering of applause from the other patrons. Bucky grinned. "I'm glad you're on _my_ side."

"Always, Gramps. Let's get out of here. I'm taking the day off to plan my strategy for the challenge." In the parking lot, she hugged him tight. "Don't worry about Natasha. It'll all work out."

"I hope so." Bucky waved as Joi pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. When she said it would all work out, her voice carried conviction, and it made him think she was right

 **Café** **Écarlate**

 **Paris, France**

All the men turn to watch her walk across the room. She radiated confidence and sexuality, along with the feeling that she was out of their league. Hitching herself onto a tall chair, she crossed her legs, uncaring that the skirt of her short green dress rode up to expose her toned thigh. The thin straps crossed over her prominent collar bones and down the back, leaving her shoulders, neck and the upper curves of her shoulder blades bare. Her blonde hair was swept away from her face into an elegant chignon. Gold and diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes. A matching necklace, watch and bracelet completed the ensemble. And when she spoke, her French was flawless. "Dirty martini, _s'il vous plait_ , with three olives."

A woman with black hair sat in a corner watching the blonde sip from her glass and nibble on the olives. When she ordered her third drink, she slid out of the booth, and went to take a seat next to the blonde. "Black Rose, _s'il vous plait_. Extra fruit."

The bartender was back shortly with her blackberry-flavored drink. She stirred it with her finger, and licked the drops from it then took a sip. The taste pleased her, so she finished it off, ate the blackberries, and signaled for another, which she sipped a little more slowly. Reaching for a toothpick, she speared the blackberries, and used them to stir the drink.

Casting a quick glance to her right, she saw her neighbor looking at her watch. She did it over and over during the next ten minutes. Tossing her raven hair over her shoulder, she signaled for the bartender. "Another, _s'il vous plait_. And one for my new friend."

" _Oui, Madame_."

The man was back quickly, inconspicuously pocketing the twenty Euros note Louisa left on the bar.

" _Merci._ "

She turned to the woman with a rueful smile. "It's the least I can do when we've both been stood up." From the look in the blonde's eyes, she accepted the final code phrase verifying their identities. "My name is Louisa Géroux."

"Esme Leclerc. He's more than an hour late. It's not customary for me to wait longer than thirty minutes for someone, date or friend." One shoulder went up and down as she sipped her martini. "But I thought he was worth waiting for, _n'est-ce pas?_ "

"Many are. Many more are not. Let's move to a table where we can take off our shoes, and commiserate together over the thoughtlessness of men."

They carried their drinks to a small round booth, kicking their high heels off with a sigh of relief. A waiter brought them menus, and each ordered a dessert. When they'd been served, and were alone once again, Esme switched from French to Russian. "My employers have sent me to negotiate on their behalf. However, they do not wish to deal with low-level thugs."

Louisa nodded agreement. "Understandable. I will give you two names. The first is for, what do the American's call it? Name throwing?"

"Name _dropping_ ," Esme corrected her with a smile. "I will take the names and contact information, and hopefully, we can begin negotiations soon."

"These men are quite paranoid when it comes to allowing someone new into their ranks. It may take several months to build up a rapport."

"Not a problem. My employers are willing to wait." Esme set her phone on the table, and within moments, it beeped to indicate it had received the transmitted information. She picked up her drink, speaking from behind it. "Two men are watching us from the bar."

"I see them. Interested?"

"Not particularly. You?"

Scooping up the last bite of her mini Crème brûlée, Louisa whispered, " _Nyet_. Much too young and poor for my tastes."

An evil glint came into Esme's eyes. "Shall we discourage them?"

For an answer, Louisa finished her drink. She stood, and reached for her heels. Esme left a stack of Euros on the table to pay their tab. She grabbed her heels as well, and they headed for the cloak room where the attendant helped them on with their coats. Just inside the front door, they slipped their heels back on. Pretending to adjust her stockings, Louisa glanced over her shoulder. The men from the bar had followed them though they were making no effort to approach.

"Taxi, _s'il vous plait_ ," Esme told the concierge. He signaled and one pulled under the porte-cochère. The concierge opened the door. Before she got in, the blonde weapons broker wrapped a hand around the back of Louisa's neck and pulled her into a kiss. " _Au revior,_ _ma Petit chatte_ _._ "

" _Au revior_ , _mon cher_."

Esme sat down, swung her legs in, and the concierge closed her inside. She blew a kiss to Louisa as they drove away.

Louisa didn't read anything into their exchange. Both had been in this game long enough to get a feel for people, and her instincts told her Esme had someone waiting for her at home, wherever home was. Her French and Russian were flawless, but that didn't mean she came from either country.

And the men that had followed them were gone. That alone was worth the effort.

Wherever Esme's loyalties lay, Louisa would not be seeing her again, for business _or_ pleasure. Digging in her purse, she brought out a valet ticket, and the concierge sent one of the boys to fetch her car. She pressed a bill into his hand, and he helped her in. The drive home only took twenty minutes, and she was soon hugging her young daughter. She changed clothes, and went into the girl's room to read her a story and tuck her in for the night.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **A Few Days Later**

The centerpiece for the dining room table had been moved to the kitchen to give Bucky, Joi, Chase and Justin plenty of room to work on the invitations for the opening of the Howling Commandos exhibit. The dedication was scheduled for Wednesday, January 18th, with the grand opening on the following Friday. Bucky had chosen to send out printed invitations, and had been teased by his grandsons for it.

"I don't know why you couldn't just email everyone, Gramps," Chase complained as he returned to the kitchen to gets drink refills for everyone.

"You could've Tweeted it, sent a video, or Skyped," Justin added. "And what's up with the World War II theme?"

Bucky and Joi shared a grin, the girl shaking her head. "A printed invitation is more personal, guys. It shows that you took time and effort to make people welcome, and that the cause is important to you."

"And because my team operated during the last few years of the war, era-appropriate clothing is suggested, but not required." Bucky pointed a finger at them with the hand holding a damp sponge. "But if you two show up dressed like street thugs, or in saggy pants, you'll be thrown in the brig."

Chase set a soft drink bottle on the coaster next to each of them, brushed the front of his hair down over his forehead, held two fingers over his upper lip, and in a decent German accent said, " _Du siehst den Wald vor lauter Bäumen nicht._ "

To which Bucky replied, " _Aller Anfang ist schwer._ "

Dropping his work, Justin rushed to the piano, ran an arpeggio up and down the keys, and went right into a song.

 _When der Fuehrer says we is de master race_ _  
_ _We heil, heil right in der_ _Fuehrer's_ _face_ _  
_ _Not to love der Fuehrer is a great disgrace_ _  
_ _So we heil, heil right in der_ _Fuehrer's_ _face_ __

 _When Herr Goebbels says we own the world and space_ _  
_ _We heil, heil right in Herr Goebbels' face_ _  
_ _When Herr Goring says, they'll never bomb this place_ _  
_ _We heil, heil right in Herr Goring's face_ _  
_

The family gathered around the piano clapping along, singing and blowing raspberries after the word "heil" in the tradition of Spike Jones. They were so involved in having fun that none heard the front door open and close.

 _Are we not the Supermen?_ _  
_ _Aryan pure Supermen?_ _  
_ _Ja, we are the Supermen_ _  
_ _(Super-duper Supermen)_ _  
_

~~O~~

With the driveway full, Natasha had to park in the street in front of Bucky's home. She recognized Joi's Prius, but the others weren't familiar. Taking her bags from the trunk, she crossed the yard to the front door, and was about to ring the bell when she heard piano music. That meant one of the vehicles belonged to Justin.

Natasha opened the front door and stepped inside. Now that she could hear the music, she recognized it as a parody of Adolf Hitler and other communist leaders of the time. Her bags were dropped on the floor by the stairs as she followed the music to the living room. Joi, Justin, Chase and Bucky were dancing around the room and doing decidedly unflattering imitations of the former dictator.

 _We bring the world to order_ _  
_ _Heil Hitler's world to order_ _  
_ _Everyone of foreign race will love der Fuehrer's face_ _  
_ _When we bring to the world disorder_ _  
_

 **TBC**

 _Fatal Attraction_ is a 1987 American psychological thriller film directed by Adrian Lyne and starring Michael Douglas, Glenn Close, and Anne Archer. The film centers on a married Manhattan man who has a weekend affair with a woman who refuses to allow it to end, resulting in her becoming obsessed with him.

 _The Flintstones_ is an animated series originally broadcast from September 30, 1960 to April 1, 1966, produced by Hanna-Barbera. It depicted the lives of a working-class Stone Age man, Fred Flintstone, his family, and his next-door neighbor and best friend, Barney Rubble, and his family.

 _Der Fuehrer's Face_ , originally titled _Donald Duck in Nutzi Land_ , is a 1943 American animated propaganda short film produced by Walt Disney Productions and released in 1943 by RKO Radio Pictures.

Spike Jones and His City Slickers, noted for their parodies of popular songs of the time, released a version of the song, _Der Fuehrer's Face_ in September 1942. Unlike the version in the cartoon, the Spike Jones versions contain the rude sound effect of an instrument he called the "birdaphone", a rubber razzer (aka the Bronx Cheer) with each " _Heil!_ " to show contempt for Hitler.

Lindley Armstrong "Spike" Jones (December 14, 1911 – May 1, 1965) was an American musician and bandleader specializing in performing satirical arrangements of popular songs. Ballads and classical works receiving the Jones treatment would be punctuated with gunshots, whistles, cowbells, and outlandish vocals. From the early 1940s to the mid 1950s, his band recorded under the title _Spike Jones and his City Slickers_.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 10**

Dragging himself from a deep sleep, Steve grabbed the phone from the nightstand. "Rogers."

" _Sorry to bother you, Captain Rogers. I'm a-a friend of Peggy Carter's_." There was a pause, and the phone was muffled though he could hear the caller speaking to someone in the background. Then, she came back on the line. At least he assumed it was a she. The voice was unaccented, and could've just as easily been a man, if it weren't for the cadence and choice of words. " _She must see you. Alone. It's urgent._ "

"Who is this?"

" _I…_ " again there was a pause, and when the voice came back, it had an edge of fear, "… _Peggy has something she needs to tell you. Her family will be in and out all day tomorrow. Can you come the day after?_ " With nothing to do but work out and brood, Steve's calendar was wide open. He was about to say so when the caller interrupted. " _I have to go. Please come, Captain Rogers._ "

The line went dead. He tried calling back, but the number was private. Wondering what Peggy could want, Steve dialed Hill. "It's Rogers. Could you track a call that came to my phone from a private number?"

The SHIELD agent snorted. " _Easy-peasy._ " In the background, he heard her giving orders, and the click of a keyboard. " _Sorry, Cap. The phone's turned off. However, we can say with one hundred percent accuracy that it pinged off of a tower near All Veterans Park, Alexandria._ " She was an expert at reading people, even over the phone. " _It means something to you, doesn't it?_ "

Steve took a deep breath, and let it out. "Yeah. It does. Thanks."

~~O~~

After the Barnes family's big finish, Natasha clapped. " _Wunderbar, meine lieblings! Wunderbar!_ "

As if they'd just played the final song at a rock concert, the four Barnes family members held hands and bowed. Bucky waved. " _Danke schoen. Wir wedern hier sein, die ganze woche._ "

Bucky took her in his arms and kissed her hello. "You dyed your hair."

She shrugged one shoulder. "Needed a change."

Behind her comment, Bucky heard what she couldn't say. That she'd made the change for a mission. "It's beautiful, but I prefer the red."

"I'll go back to it by Christmas." Looking past him, she saw papers and envelops stacked on the dining room table. "What's all that?"

Chase crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one foot. "Gramps has us addressing invitations to the exhibit dedication…"

"…by _hand_!" Justin, still at the piano, finished for him, adding a few notes of a dirge. "He even wants us to dress up like the cast of _Saving Private Ryan_."

Natasha agreed with Bucky, and said so. "I think it's a perfect idea. Let the attendees get some idea of what the world was like during the war. I'll go change and give you a hand."

She picked up her bags, and as she climbed the stairs, the kids began singing a different song. This one from the movie _White Christmas_.

 _We'll follow the old man wherever he wants to go_

 _Long as he wants to go opposite to the foe_

 _We'll stay with the old man wherever he wants to stay_

 _Long as stays away from the battle's fray_

 _Because we love him, we love him_

 _Especially when he keeps us on the ball_

 _And we'll tell the kiddies we answered duty's call_

 _With the grandest son of a soldier of them all_

After being on a plane for close to ten hours, Natasha really needed a shower. She tossed her one of the bags on the chair in the corner, and the other on the bed. The zipper rasped loudly in the relative quiet, grating on her nerves. She pulled out a pair of slacks, a sweater, and flats.

The clothes she'd worn on the plane were put with the bag in the chair, and soon she was under the hot water, washing away the body aches and grime from traveling.

~~O~~

Joi followed her grandfather into the kitchen, watching while he poured a glass of deep purple wine into a crystal glass.

"Gramps, I need advice on what to wear for this shindig. Think you could go with me to the vintage clothing stores next week?"

Bucky left the wine on the counter and took her hand. "I can do better than that, baby girl. I still have some of Grams' old clothes in the attic." He led her up the stairs to a door at the end of the hall. At the top of the stairs, he pulled the chain to turn on the light. The room was nearly filled to capacity, with a narrow walkway through the boxes, trunks and other castoffs of his old life. He knelt next to a brown and black steamer trunk. It was latched but not locked. "I'm so glad she kept these. She must've known we'd need them one day."

Joi picked up the dress on top, beige with a white jacket embellished with red and pink flowers. Somehow, she couldn't see her grandmother wearing something so ordinary. As long as Joi could remember, she'd worn bright colors. Gramps cleared his throat and stood. Pushing a hand through his hair, he avoided looking at her. "That's, uh… Your grandmother wore it on our first date. We went to the Stark Expo with Steve and her friend Bonnie the day before I shipped out."

Sad on his behalf, Joi carefully folded the dress and set it aside. "Not my color anyway. You go. I can do this alone."

When he was gone, she removed the dresses one by one, making two piles. The ones on the left were rejects mostly for color. Some were maternity clothes, and though they were pretty, no way would she appear at the dedication in one of them. Maybe when she had children of her own.

The other stack had four possibilities, the colors and styles more suited to Joi's slender frame. She reflected that her grandmother had worn these clothes when she was younger than Joi was now.

The rest of the clothes were returned to the trunk, and the lid closed. Gathering her treasures, Joi made her way down to the second floor, using one of the empty bedrooms to change.

The first dress was black with red around the diamond shaped collar and down the closure that ran along her left leg. A row of five red buttons secured it at the waist as well as several more on the inside where they wouldn't show. It was lovely, but she wanted something a little more flirty.

Her second choice was all black with short sleeves, a tie at the waist and shiny black dots all over it. She'd found a black hat that matched. Together they made her look chic and sophisticated. That went to the side as a possibility.

Number three was dark green with cap sleeves and a full skirt. The color suited her, but the dress hung oddly on her hips, making them look extra wide. Nope.

That left number four. Once the zipper was up, Joi smoothed the soft material down over her hips and adjusted the sleeves. It fit like it had been made for her, conforming to her figure without bunching, and no straining at the seams. Silently, she thanked her grandmother for her foresight in keeping the dresses from her youth. Shoes and a bag to match would round the out ensemble. Joi already had jewelry, a necklace and watch given to her by Grams on her twenty-first birthday that would be perfect.

There was a knock on the door, followed by her brother's voice. "Joi?"

"Come in."

Justin stepped inside and closed the door. Looking her up and down, he let out a low whistle. "Day-um, girl! You look _hot_ in Grams' dress."

"You really think so? It's not too much?"

Justin walked around her, shaking his head. " _Au contraire_ , my beautiful sister. It's perfect." He picked up the green dress, making a face at the color and style. "You'll knock Steve on his ass." Turning to the mirror, he held the dress in front of him, turning side to side. "What d'you think? Is it me?"

Joi shook her head. "Not your color, and the skirt makes you look hippy. Stick to a double breasted suit in dark grey or black. Check the attic. Gramps probably has a few up there."

He picked up the black and red dress, shaking his head. "Too bad it isn't a sixties theme. I would totally _rock_ Jackie Kennedy. Pink Chanel suit, pillbox hat, black pumps, and I'm set. Gramps could go as JFK, and Natasha as Marilyn Monroe."

"What about Chase?" Joi asked with a grin.

"Lee Harvey Oswald, of course. With a Nerf gun instead of a rifle."

~~O~~

Bucky sat at the bottom of the stairs, elbows resting on his knees, and hands clasped between them. So many emotions warred inside him that he could barely breath. Seeing Joi holding that dress had brought back pre-war memories. He'd been a young man on the prowl, looking for a girl who would give herself to a soldier going off to war. When they first met, he thought Connie would fit the bill, but she had put the kibosh on that right away. Dinner, the expo, dancing, a kiss good night, and nothing more.

Truthfully, he hadn't been upset that he didn't have his way with her that night because he was too busy worrying about Steve. He'd taken the girls dancing after leaving his friend at the recruitment center, and hadn't seen him again until the daring one-man rescue from the lab.

A few weeks after reaching the base in Europe and before his squad had been captured, he heard rumors that a man by the name of Steve Rogers had begun touring the country to promote war bonds dressed in a weird costume and going by the stage name Captain America. Though the man had the same name as his friend, those rumors said this guy was over six feet, and incredibly strong. A description that didn't fit his friend's skinny body. Not to mention that Steve could barely carry two bags of groceries without getting winded.

Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to banish the memories of what happened a few short weeks later, Bucky sighed. The whisper of footsteps on the stairs above reminded him that Natasha was home. Getting to his feet, he turned to watch her come down the stairs. She had a cat-like grace that would make even the most conceited super-model green with envy.

She wore black slim-fitting pants, black shoes that looked like ballet slippers, and a cream-colored sweater with a cowl neck. It had slid off one side leaving that shoulder bare, and more than hinting that she wore nothing underneath.

Her blonde hair was worn in the same style as before, but now she resembled a Petit Marilyn Monroe. In his mind, he pictured Natasha in Marilyn's white halter dress, standing over the subway grate, her dress flying up around her.

She stopped on the third step, one hand on the railing, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. Her face was free of make-up and the scent of her favorite coconut and lime shower gel reached him through the small space between them.

Movement behind Natasha drew his eyes to the top of the stairs. What he saw caused the air to stall in his lungs. Joi was coming down, a tentative smile on her face. Bucky closed his mouth, and swallowed. "Oh, my God."

Natasha touched him on the cheek. "What's wrong, _lyubimaya_?"

All Bucky could do was point, his eyes following Joi as she moved around Natasha to the bottom of the stairs. She turned in a circle. "What do you think, Gramps?"

"You look just like your grandmother."

~~O~~

The tone of Bucky's voice gave Natasha a moment's pause. The look on his face was that of a man who missed his wife, and still hadn't realized the void she'd left in his life, a void that Natasha stepped into by accident. She'd known it from the beginning, and that's why she kept turning down his proposals. He did want to marry her. That much was true. Bucky just needed to get to the point of acceptance before that could happen. If they married now, chances were that it wouldn't last. If Natasha ever said, "I do", she wanted it to be forever.

Bucky certainly thought he was ready to marry again, but she knew different. She read it in his eyes every time he looked at Connie's picture on the bookshelf. They had been together for over sixty years, and he still had to deal with his grief, and the pain of that loss.

Through careful questioning of other family members, Natasha had found out that Bucky had not truly mourned. Perhaps one day she might be able to help him get past stages three and four in the process. He still felt guilty-stage three, that he hadn't loved Connie the way she deserved, and felt a sort of depression-stage four, that came with that guilt. It could also be the cause of his sleepwalking incident. If it kept up, she would insist that he see a licensed therapist.

Smiling, Natasha touched Joi on the arm. "You look beautiful, _malyshka_. Steve will love it."

Joi shrugged and made a face. "I hope so. He has to be there early for photos and interviews, and I'll be joining him later."

Something in Joi's tone nagged at Natasha. Her job really did stink sometimes. She wanted to get the girl alone to ask if there was a problem between her and Steve, but sensed her concern would be seen as nosiness. If she needed or wanted a confidant, Natasha would make herself available.

Forcing a smile, Joi started up the stairs. "I'll change and be right down, Gramps."

When Bucky faced her again, his usual grin was in place. He led her to the kitchen, and passed her the wine. "How was your trip? Or is that need-to-know?"

Natasha leaned against the counter and took a sip. Holding the glass so that the light refracted through the clear crystal, she glanced over at him, and back. "The why is confidential. The trip itself was grueling. My flight back was delayed due to weather, and I had to stay the night at a hotel barely worthy of the name." She finished off the wine and set the glass in the sink. "Let's finish the invitations, and I'll take us all out to dinner."

From the other room, three voices chorused, "Deal!" It was followed up with a sibling type disagreement over who would take shotgun. If Natasha didn't know better, she'd think they were babysitting. A few minutes later, they settled down, with Justin playing forties music to keep them in the mood.

Eventually, the work was completed, the kids seemingly unaware that their grandfather wasn't his normal boisterous self. Though she pretended not to notice, Natasha saw Bucky shooting glances and nostalgic smiles at Joi. Bucky was right. Joi did resemble Connie at the same age, though Joi was thinner and a little taller. They had the same color hair and eyes. Her smile was all Bucky though.

When it came bedtime, Natasha thought it best to sleep apart from Bucky so he could be alone with his memories. He wasn't happy about it as he rubbed her shoulders. "But why? You've been gone for almost two weeks. I've missed you."

In this instance, the best thing to say was lie. "It was a long two weeks. Then there was the flight back, and dinner with the kids." Natasha mentally rolled her eyes. She'd picked up Bucky's habit of referring to his progeny as _the kids_. He didn't seem to find it odd.

"Please stay with me. I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

She rubbed the backs of his hands. "I still have a report to complete. My handler will want at least a preliminary by morning." Turning within the circle of his arms, she laid her hands on his chest. "How about a compromise. I'll go do my report, and if you're still awake when I'm done, we'll fool around a little."

Bucky's smile almost broke her heart because she knew it wouldn't happen. Not tonight. Even when her report was complete, she planned on staying in the other room until he was asleep. Whether they slept together or apart tonight, they would have to talk tomorrow. She had to make him see that he needed to grieve, if not for the death of his wife, at least for what was missing from his life. Each time he proposed, Natasha got the feeling that he was doing it to keep from being alone in this big house. Marrying someone because you're lonely is a recipe for disaster.

Natasha kissed him, long and sweet, and stepped out of his embrace. At the door, she smiled over her shoulder. " _Gute nacht, meine leibling_."

~~O~~

Steve called Joi when he got home, but begged off meeting for dinner, saying he was tired. It was the truth, just not the whole of it. He stopped at a drive-thru for burgers, and took them home to his empty apartment.

His neighbor from across the hall arrived at the same time, balancing a purse, gym bag and several plastic bags of groceries. "Let me give you a hand."

He took control of all but the purse, the woman sighing in relief. "Thanks. I spent all day in the ER. It was _crazy_ busy." She stuck out her hand, realizing too late that he wasn't able to shake. "Sorry. Kate." She opened the front door and followed him in.

"Steve. Nice to finally meet you, Kate." Her tired smile made him feel bad for not introducing himself sooner. They hit the second landing, Steve taking his steps slower to accommodate her shorter stride.

"You keep a weird schedule, don't you?"

Steve nodded and grinned. "Yeah. I'm always on call."

She glanced at the fast food bag. "Are you gonna eat all that yourself? How many burgers are in there?"

"Seven. Ate the fries in the car." He grinned sheepishly. "I have a fast metabolism."

A snort came from her. "Wish _I_ did. Have to watch every calorie, carb and fat gram that goes into my body." They reached the third floor, Kate took out her keys. "Just put those on the floor. Thanks for your help."

From her manner, Steve could see that Kate didn't want him inside her apartment, and he respected her wishes. "Happy to do it, Kate. If you ever need a hand again, just knock on my door."

She gave him a bland smile, not responding to what she probably took as his attempt at flirting, though he hadn't meant it that way. "Have a good night, Steve."

"You too." Inside his apartment, Steve set the bag of burgers on the coffee table and kicked off his shoes, shedding his jacket at the same time. He went to the kitchen for a beer, setting the bottle with the burgers. Briefly, he considered watching a movie from his list, but it wouldn't be as much fun without someone there to explain the bits he didn't understand. Looking them up on the Internet wasn't as interesting as having Joi or Bucky's unique views of the world, as well as their humorous quips. Instead of a movie, he chose a record, placed it on the turntable, and turned it on.

 **Innisbrook Extended Care Center**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

 **Later That Night**

Lying in her bed, hands folded on top of the covers, Peggy Carter stirred, her sleep, restless like always. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced around the room, seeing a figure standing near the window. What little light there was didn't allow her to make out exact features. However, the body shape reminded her of someone from long ago. "Steve?" She smiled happily. "Is the war over? Can we go home? Oh, I've missed you so."

The figure, a deeper shadow in the darkness, didn't respond. It came to her side, and one hand brushed the hair from her face and touched her cheek. She turned into the touch, rubbing her cheek against the palm. Seconds later, Peggy closed her eyes, and a contented smile turned up the corners of her lips. She took two more breaths, and was still. The curtains fluttered as the window was opened and closed again.

A short time later, the aide entered. She turned on the light above the bed. "Evening, Ms. Carter. How are you feeling tonight? Ms. Carter?"

Taking hold of Peggy's wrist, she felt for a pulse, finding none. She laid that hand with the other on her stomach, said a short prayer, and went to get the nurse.

 **TBC**

 _Saving Private Ryan_ is a 1998 American epic war drama film set during the Invasion of Normandy in World War II.

 _White Christmas_ is a 1954 American musical romantic comedy film directed by Michael Curtiz and starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera-Ellen. The song _The Old Man_ was sung by Crosby, Kaye, and the Men's Chorus about Major General Tom Waverly.

 _As Time Goes By_ is a song written by Herman Hupfeld in 1931. It became most famous in 1942 when part of it was sung by the character Sam in the movie _Casablanca_.

German:

 _Wunderbar, meine lieblings! Wunderbar!_ = Wonderful, my darlings! Wonderful!

 _Danke schoen. Wir wedern hier sein, die ganze woche._ = Thank you very much. We'll be here all week.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks also go out to Sparky She-Demon and CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for making sure I didn't commit any major _faux pas_.

 **WARNING:** This chapter may contain content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 11**

Joi pulled into the Java Junction drive-thru barely awake, ordered an espresso for the kick, and extra whip because she deserved it for getting up at three in the morning to drive all this way. She received a call the previous afternoon to come to Nocturnal Diversions Studio on Fifth Street in Baltimore to record promos for the show. The man on the phone advised her that some clothing would be provided as well as hair and make-up.

Pulling into the parking lot, she counted the cars. Fifteen in all, including those in the reserved spots. She parked next to a brand new Honda Accord in shiny black without a speck of dirt to mar its perfect lines, compared to her three-year-old Prius that was silver and dirty from driving on the sanded roads near Gramps' house.

Joi showed her ID to the receptionist and was told to take a seat. Unfortunately, the only seat available was next to Frank Vitale. Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd unnerved her with those piercing brown eyes, she lifted her chin, marched over and sat down, giving him a nod of recognition and nothing more.

Soon, a young Indian man wearing a headset, a bored expression, and carrying a tablet came to the desk. He looked over the list, noting who was here and who was not, had a short whispered conversation with the receptionist, and came to stand in the middle of the room. "My name is Charlie. Follow me." He led them down a long hallway, talking all the while. "One of the assistant directors will speak to each of you before we set up the on-camera interviews so you'll know what to say.

"As with all reality shows, ratings come from conflict. We'll see who butts heads with whom, and play it up to build tension. We'll get into more of that as the show progresses." Without consulting the list, Charlie called out, "Isaac Walters, Leigh Wolfson, Vaishali Brijesh, Thanatos Katsaros, Elyse DeWitt, and Gabe Moreno. You're in wardrobe, end of the hall on the left. Rudy Hayes, Frank Vitale, Hattie Sanders, Brady Norris, Vanya Igoryok, Randi Tobias, and Joi Lockwood. Make-up and hair on the right.

"When you're done in one, hit the other then go into the studio to wait." He pointed over his shoulder. "Back to reception, take the first right and follow the signs. If you need anything, that's where I'll be. Drinks and snacks are provided. Just don't make a mess."

Then Charlie was gone, leaving his charges in the hands of others he hadn't bothered to introduce. Joi caught Frank's eye as they approached the make-up area. He glared at her, and just to be contrary, she smirked and raised one eyebrow as a challenge. They hit the door at the same time. Frank stepped back to let her go first and followed her in.

The four stations were already taken. Joi leaned her back against the wall. Without meaning to, she glanced over at Frank only to find him watching her thoughtfully, arms crossed, thumb and forefinger of his right hand tugging at his bottom lip.

To show him she didn't care, Joi turned to the man next to her, and introduced herself. "Joi Lockwood, owner of Mon Petit Café on Glengarry Boulevard."

He was about fifty, stocky, and had a pleasant face that smiled all the time. He took her hand, bowing over it. "Vanya Igoryok. Please call me Vanya, _dorogaya moya_. I am pleased to own Za Vas, a Russian cuisine restaurant inside Dulles International Airport." His Russian accent coupled with his smile charmed Joi. She made a mental note to speak to Natasha about teaching her a few words of Russian.

All through her conversation with Vanya, she could feel Frank watching her. It only got worse when they sat side by side in the chairs where they could see each other in the mirror. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

~~O~~

Steve stood over the coffee pot waiting for it to finish so he could get started on his day. He'd spent the last couple of nights debating with his conscience over whether or not to tell Joi about the scene with Hill. As he got out of bed this morning, he came to the conclusion that the only honest and honorable thing to do would be to tell her. They didn't have a formal, going steady type of relationship, though it was understood that they wouldn't date others while together. Not that what he and Hill had done counted as dating, but he still felt bad for enjoying it so much.

His phone lay on the counter, the light blinking telling him he had a message. Thumbing the voice mail icon, he listened to Joi's message.

" _Morning, Steve. Sorry to do this, but I got a call from_ Chef vs. Chef _. They need the participants to record promos for the show. I have to be there every morning at five,_ and _my days off for the next couple of weeks, so dinner is out. If you come to the café when it's slow, we could do coffee or lunch. Talk to you soon. Try not to miss me too much_."

Relieved and annoyed at the same time, Steve deleted the message just as the coffee pot finished brewing. He filled his travel mug, popped the lid on, and snagged his gym bag on the way out the door. Maybe six or seven hours of pounding on a punching bag would help clear his conscience.

~~O~~

Rolling onto his back, Bucky blinked in the brightness of the morning sun coming in through the bedroom window. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he'd slept much later than was his habit. Sitting up on the side of the bed, he rubbed forehead, groaning as the pain of another headache seared its way through his brain.

He put on his slippers and shuffled into the ensuite. Peering at his face in the mirror, he touched the puffy skin around his left eye finding it somewhat tender. Wondering what he'd done to it, he splashed water on his face, and decided to shave before going downstairs.

Thirty minutes later, he felt better, but not a hundred percent. Coffee and breakfast would clear away the rest of the cobwebs… hopefully.

Bucky made his way downstairs, pushing the cuffs of his long sleeved t-shirt up to his elbows. The radio was playing in the kitchen, and Natasha was singing along. The scent of food cooking made his stomach growl. He stopped in the doorway to watch Natasha moving about the room, fascinated as always by her grace and efficiency of movement. She reached for something on a high shelf, her dark blue top pulling up to expose the smooth skin of her ribs.

"Smells good," Bucky said by way of announcing his presence. Natasha didn't jump or even appear to be surprised that he was there. She just seemed to know.

Her smile of greeting said she was happy to see him as she came to give him a kiss. "Good morning. Breakfast is almost ready." A crease appeared above her nose. "You look tired. How did you sleep?"

"Not great." She poured coffee and passed it to him as he slid onto a chair at the counter. "I don't know what it is, but lately I've been getting headaches, and having strange dreams."

Bacon, eggs, and buttered toast appeared in front of him. He draped the napkin over his lap while Natasha placed two ibuprofen next to his coffee cup. She served herself and came to sit next to him. "I have to go to the office for a couple of hours. After that, I'm all yours. What would you like to do?"

Bucky swallowed the pills with coffee, making a face at the taste. "While you're gone, I'll try on my dress uniform to see if it still fits. After that…" he shrugged.

"When's the opening? I want to be there."

"The, the grand opening is Friday, January 20th, and dedication is the Wednesday before. You don't have to come to both."

She scooped up a forkful of eggs. "I'll put it on my calendar." Her eyes dropped to the counter, or so he thought until Natasha set the fork on the edge of her plate. One hand went around his left wrist and the other at the elbow, turning his arm over, examining marks on his skin. "What were you doing while I was gone?"

He hadn't noticed the curved lines while getting dressed. "Nothing that would do this. Is it a rash?"

"No. They're too uniform."

He pulled the sleeve down to cover it, and went back to eating.

"What did the doctor say about the sleepwalking?"

"Sent me for a sleep study, but nothing showed up. Said I slept all night." Bucky only eaten half the food when his stomach rebelled. He pushed the plate away and wiped his mouth. "Sorry. It's good. I just don't feel well."

Natasha touched the back of her fingers to his forehead and cheeks. "You don't have a fever." She slid off the chair, and took him by the hand, leading him to the living room. "Lie down and rest. I'll clean the kitchen and go to my meeting. If you're feeling better when I get back, we can take a walk."

She turned away, and Bucky grabbed her hand. "You're too good to me, Tasha."

"You're worth it, _lyubimaya_." She pressed a kiss to his forehead as she would a child, and returned to the kitchen.

He dozed off to the sound of dishes clattering in the sink, not even hearing the front door close behind her when she left.

~~O~~

The dream started almost immediately. Vague images of people Bucky didn't know in places he'd never been, their faces twisted in fear, many begging for their lives. Others he seemed to see through a telescope. As in most of his dreams, events unfolded as if he were the protagonist, showing everything from his point of view.

The scene shifted, and a man and his wife knelt on the floor, hands raised in surrender. From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw the left hand come up, a weapon clenched in the fist. Light glinted off the metal that the arm was made of, frightening the couple even more. A finger pulled the trigger until the clip was empty, the sound of the blasts jerking him awake.

Bucky sat up, looking around for the source of what had awakened him, but he was alone. On the upside, his head no longer ached, and his stomach had settled. While he couldn't remember the details, he recalled that his dreams had been unpleasant, reminding him of the wars he fought for his country.

He got to his feet, stretched and yawned while scratching his left arm. Far away, he heard the sound of dogs barking, and it reminded him of his promise to Natasha. When she returned, they'd talk about their plans to get a cat, and having her officially move in.

Wiggling his stocking feet in the thick carpet, Bucky went to the kitchen for a cold glass of water then upstairs. Standing on the balcony, he thought about selling the house and getting something smaller. That meant he wouldn't be able to host the family gatherings like he and Connie had done for many years before she died. Leaning his forearms on the railing, he let his mind go blank, not wanting to be reminded of that time. But the memories came anyway.

Bucky had gone to the lake with family members. Connie had her book club, and Serenity's birthday gift to finish, so she stayed home. When they returned three days later, they found Connie lying on the sofa where she often took a nap. She'd been dead for almost a full day from a massive stroke.

Just as he told Joi, Bucky missed his wife, and he'd been sad that she was gone from his life. In the six years since her death, he hadn't once cried. Not at the inquest where the medical examiner had produced his findings of death by natural causes. Not at the memorial service. Not at the gravesite, and not since. He also knew that crying wasn't a requirement to mourn the loss of a loved one.

Exhaling loudly, Bucky went to his room and into the walk-in closet for his sneakers. He put them on, crouching to tie the laces, hearing the front door opened and close.

Natasha's voice called out, "James? I'm back."

He thought it curious the way she announced herself. It was always, _I'm back_ not _I'm home_. "I'll be right down."

Going to the bathroom, he washed his hands, dried them on a hand towel, and ran a comb through his hair. _Time to get it cut_ , he thought. He'd asked Natasha if she preferred long or short hair, and had been told to please himself. That it was _him_ she cared about, not his hair. Resolutely, Bucky decided to have it cut this week so he would present a professional appearance at the dedication.

Through the material of his shirt, Bucky rubbed at his left arm. While in the bathroom, he examined the skin and found the marks went all the way up to his shoulder. _Maybe I_ have _been sleepwalking, and just didn't do it at the clinic_. The only way to know for certain was if someone caught him. Natasha was the most likely to do so, but she hadn't said anything except for Thanksgiving.

Natasha met him at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes roaming over him, assessing his condition. To set her mind at ease, and have a little fun, Bucky grabbed her wrist, bent his knees, and threw her over his shoulder.

"James! What're you doing?"

He grinned. "Don't worry, _lyubimaya_. There's a method to my madness."

~~O~~

The world spun, and Natasha was on the sofa, looking up at Bucky. His eyes had that sparkle, the one that meant business. Funny business. She gave him a sultry smile to let him know she was agreeable. He pulled his long sleeved t-shirt off over his head and tossed it away, and when she saw what he was wearing underneath, she laughed. The shirt was blue with a red, white and blue shield on the front. "A Captain America t-shirt? Does Steve know?"

"Don't know, don't care." He toed off his sneakers then removed her shoes as well, his warm and calloused hands lightly massaging her feet.

When he reached for his belt buckle, she rolled to her knees, brushing his hands out of the way so she could do it for him. Taking her time, she maintained eye contact as she opened the buckle and slowly pulled it from the loops. She popped the snap, and lowered his zipper to the bottom, but before she could go any further, his hands flew to the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and tossing it away. In response, her hands grasped the bottom of the shirt, pulling up and off.

Before she could push the jeans and boxers off his hips, Bucky had gone down on one knee so that they were eye to eye. He leaned in for a kiss while opening the closure on her pants, and slid his hands inside the loosened material, smoothing his palms over her ribs and around to caress the small of her back.

Momentum took over, and soon they were on the floor, engaged in a dance that was timeless, and supremely fulfilling. And when the end was near, Bucky rolled onto his back with Natasha looking down at him, that blonde hair surrounding her like a cloud.

She leaned down to take possession of his lips, and he returned the favor. To prolong the intense physical sensations, she sat up, encouraging him to touch her just so, and when he did, bright light exploded behind her eyes as her entire body convulsed.

He rolled her onto her back again, and made his move. Soon, it was all over for both of them. Flopping onto his back again, Bucky cuddled her close, and she lay her head on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat as it returned to normal. Taking hold of her hand, he brought it to his lips.

Each time Bucky had proposed, it was after intense love making just like this. Natasha waited, but the words didn't come this time. Instead, he shifted her to the side, and stood. As he moved around the room picking up their discarded clothing, she let her eyes roam over his body, enjoying the play of muscles under his skin. His waist was trim though he didn't have a six-pack, but that didn't matter. He was beautiful just the way he was. When he reached down to help her up, pulling her tightly against him, she let her fingers skim through the hair on his chest.

"Let's get dressed. I have an idea for an outing."

"Mmm. Where're we going?"

Bucky rested his cheek on the top of her head. "It's a surprise."

He released her, and she sat on the sofa to get dressed, watching him do the same. She went into the downstairs bathroom to fix her hair, and when she came out, Bucky was waiting with her jacket, hat, scarf and gloves. Though it was sunny out, the wind blew cold, telling them that snow would arrive by the weekend. She had a hunch what today was about. He wanted her to move in, and for them to get the cat they'd talked about. There were issues to be resolved before that could happen.

"Before we go, we have to talk, James."

The smile on his face turned to concern. "It's always serious when you use that tone, Tasha."

"It is." She took her things from his hands and laid them in a chair with her bags she'd already packed. Taking his hand, Natasha led James back to the sofa.

On the shelves surrounding the entertainment center, Natasha cast her eyes over the photos. Four generations of Bucky's family, and it had all started with him and Connie. Their wedding photo showed the two of them looking happy. Bucky was in a gray suit, a white rosebud boutonnière in his lapel. Connie wore a white dress that went down to her calves, and superficially resembled a wedding dress in that the sleeves and across the front were made of lace. In one hand, she held a small bouquet of pink and white roses. The way they were standing, you could see their left hands and the gold bands on their ring fingers.

"What's it about?"

"You wanted to know why I keep turning down your offers of marriage." She gestured at the photos. "Connie, and the fact that, six years after her death, you're still wearing your wedding ring. This tells me you're not as ready to remarry as you think you are." James opened his mouth to protest, and she quieted him with a finger over his mouth. "You told me you and Connie weren't in love. But this…" Natasha held up his left hand, the light glinting off the metal, "…tells me otherwise. You need to think long and hard about your relationship, and when you figure it out, call me."

~~O~~

Natasha left Bucky standing at the bottom of the stairs rubbing his left hand as if he'd never seen it before. He watched her put on her jacket, gloves, scarf and hat. She picked up her bags, and left by the front door, the click sounding like an ending.

Bucky looked around at his empty house that moments ago had been filled with love and warmth. Now it was cold, and there was just him. No more them. That's how it felt. Bucky didn't want it to end with Natasha. He wasn't ready for it to be over. Not by a longshot.

He went back to the living room, sitting heavily on the sofa, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped between them, turning his left hand over, thumb finding the back of the ring and twisting it. He'd worn the same ring since the day he married Connie, and seldom felt the weight any longer.

Why _was_ he still wearing it? That was the only question Natasha had about their relationship. She hadn't asked if he loved her or if the age difference bothered her, because _he_ knew that _she_ knew the truth. Reading people, knowing what was in their minds even when they didn't, was what she did. It was as much a part of her as a hand or a foot.

Bucky stood and went to the shelves that held the family photos, picking up the one taken on his and Connie's wedding day. He'd taken it and others from his bedroom and brought them downstairs so he wouldn't have to see Connie's face every morning and night, watching him. It had nothing to do with Natasha because he'd done it within a month of her death.

 _The truth shall set you free_. He'd always thought of it as a platitude, a phrase that meant nothing because telling the truth all day, every day wasn't easy. Everyone told lies. Small ones to yourself, and big ones to those you loved to spare their feelings.

So what _was_ the truth? Bucky had told Joi that he loved Connie, and he had. Just not in the way she deserved. He knew it, and so had she.

Bucky's eyes roamed over the photos that traced a path through the life he's shared with Connie. Their children growing up, becoming adults, marrying, having children and grandchildren of their own.

He returned the wedding photo to its place, and picked up the last one taken of he and Connie together. They had been at the park with the family just a few weeks before she died, sitting side by side at the picnic table. He had his arm around her shoulders, holding her close, and was kissing her. Her eyes had closed at the contact, and a blissful smile softened her wrinkled features. The smile was reflected on his face.

With his youthful appearance, they looked more like mother and son. That was why she normally shied away from public displays of affection between them. Didn't even like to hold hands.

However, on that day, she had encouraged it. Had Connie somehow known that her days were numbered? That soon she would be gone and wanted him to know that she loved him? _Really_ loved him. How had their love changed over the years without him noticing?

In a moment of epiphany, he realized that yes, he had loved Connie. As his best friend. As the mother of his children. As his companion for life. And when she died, he'd been deprived of the ability to show that love.

The air stalled in his lungs making his chest ache. He sat on the sofa and rubbed the area to ease the pain, but it didn't help. It felt as if he were trapped in a vise that was slowly being tightened. He couldn't breathe.

Panic started to set in. Bucky reached into his back pocket, but it was empty. He'd left his phone upstairs. The landline in the kitchen. He had to get to it, to call someone. He had too much living still to do. Grandchildren still to be born. Great-grandchildren. Great-great-grandchildren even. Friends he hadn't seen in months. Steve. Natasha. The exhibit. He had to see it all, experience everything life had to give, and more.

Bucky's eyes began to sting. First, just a tear or two. More and more until he was sobbing. Through the sorrow, he felt pressure on his shoulders as someone wrapped their arms around him, whispering soothing words of comfort. He latched on, holding on so tight he might never let go.

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks also go out to Sparky She-Demon and CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for making sure I didn't commit any major _faux pas_.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 12**

Alone in the gym, Steve flopped into a chair, and opened another bottle of water, drinking the contents without stopping. He swiped the towel over his face and upper chest, and tossed it across the room into the basket.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out, though he didn't want to talk to anyone. The text from Hill was short and to the point. _Call me ASAP!_

He scrolled for her number and dialed. "It's Rogers."

" _There's no easy way to say this, Steve._ " The tone of Hill's voice set his instincts on edge. " _Peggy Carter passed away during the night. Natural causes._ "

Stunned, just for a moment, Steve couldn't breathe. Given her age and medical condition, each day was a blessing. Now, with Peggy gone, Bucky was all that remained of his old life.

" _Steve?_ "

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm here. When's the service?"

" _Uncertain. The family will let us know_." There was a short pause. Then, " _I'm sorry for your loss._ "

"Thanks, Maria, but I lost Peggy almost seventy years ago."

Through the line, Steve got the feeling that Hill had more to say. " _I'll be there as a representative of SHIELD. We could ride together, if you don't want to go alone._ "

Touched by her kindness, Steve managed a small smile. "Thanks."

He picked up his bag, shoved the phone in his back pocket and headed for the exit. As he passed the punching bags, he lashed out with his right hand, breaking the chain and punching a hole in the side. Normally, he would replace the bag with another, and leave money to pay for the one he destroyed, but he wasn't in the mood to hang around.

On the drive back to his apartment, Steve couldn't help but wonder what Peggy wanted to speak to him about, and why it was so urgent. Unless she'd written it down or told someone, he might never know.

~~O~~

Feeling bad for running out on Bucky, Natasha stopped at the light just down the road. After less than a moment's thought, she pulled into the Java Junction drive-thru, and was back on the road within minutes with two cups of their special hot cocoa. It always made her feel better when she was down. Hopefully, it would do the same for Bucky.

She didn't know what to expect when she returned so soon after leaving him standing by the stairs. Instead of letting herself in as she usually did, she rang the bell. After a reasonable amount of time, he still hadn't come to the door. He couldn't have left. The house was on a dead end street, and he would've had to pass the coffee shop on his way out. She would've seen him.

Turning the knob, Natasha eased the door open. "James?"

A strange sound came from the living room. Strange to this home. She rushed into the living room. Bucky was on the sofa, hands over his face and sobbing. Setting the cup holder on the coffee table, she touched him on the shoulder, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

Holding his head against her, Natasha whispered soothing words while she stroked his hair, again like a child. And soon, his tears ran out. She eased him away, and stood. Taking his hand, she led him upstairs to his room. Without a word, she sent him into the bathroom and soon, the shower came on. She gathered his clothes from the bathroom floor and tossed them in the laundry basket then laid out clean ones.

In the walk-in closet, she got down on one knee. Not knowing what he'd planned for them, she chose his favorite black boots. On the floor beneath them were clumps of mud. She turned one over, and found the tread filled with dried and drying bits of mud. Thinking back, she recalled that the last time he'd worn them was a few days after Thanksgiving. She poked the clumps with a finger, wondering why some of the mud was still soft. He couldn't have worn them while she was out of town or the mud would be hard.

Filing away the information for later, Natasha carried them out to the bedroom and dropped them next to the bed just as the shower cut off. She went downstairs to reheat the hot cocoa before Bucky came out to give him time to regain his emotional equilibrium.

She'd just taken the second cup out of the microwave when she heard his footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He sat at the counter while she took out the whipped cream and added a generous squirt to both cups then slid one in front of him.

Bucky watched her over the rim of his cup as she came around to sit next to him. They sipped their cocoa in silence, and when he finished, he turned to her and smiled.

"What?"

"You have whipped cream on your nose." Natasha rubbed it with a napkin. "Did I get it?"

"Yes." Taking her hand in both of his, he leaned close. She thought he would kiss her, but he didn't. "Thank you for what you did."

Her hand came up to touch his cheek. "I ran out on you, and you're _thanking_ me?"

"Because you made me see what I've been blind to all these years. From the beginning, it was understood that Connie and I had settled for each other. I was gone much of the time because of the Army, so she pretty much did what she wanted, and put up with me when I was home. She never said so, but I thought she was seeing someone while I was gone." He chuckled again, without humor.

"I wouldn't have blamed her. We were seldom intimate those first few years, and I freely admit it was my fault. My experiences in the lab kept coming back, making me unable to… perform, and the nightmares frightened Connie to the point that I would go stay at the VA just to let her get some peace. Sometimes, I would go for long walks, and come back. At least that's what she said. After a while, the dreams came less and less frequently. I still get them, but only once in a great while. The last time was just after Steve came back.

"Our intimacy problems worked themselves out too. Soon, Carolyn came along, and our time together wasn't as much a chore as it had been. Then we added Steven, Jacob and Olivia, and stopped talking about separation or divorce. The subject came up many years later, but we never did anything about it. I, uh, I guess that should've been a sign that life had changed us from the young couple we were in the beginning."

"It's all very interesting, but why are you telling me this, James?"

He released her, and carried their cups to the trash. "Sometimes you just have to get things off your chest. If it had been the mailman that found me, I'd be talking to _him_ instead of you."

Natasha pursed her lips to keep from laughing. " _That_ would've been awkward." Bucky leaned against the counter, watching her, yet not. She came around to stand in front of him. "So what was the surprise?"

The excitement came back to his expression. He held out his hand, and she took it. "Let's go get a cat."

Bucky had just pulled into the parking lot of Tails in the City, a no-kill animal shelter, when Natasha received a call from Hill that put a huge damper on their day.

~~O~~

At home with nothing to keep his mind off his troubles, Steve got down on the floor for crunches. He was into his second set of five hundred when the phone beeped again. Another friend texting to express their sympathy.

Steve responded, and tossed the phone on the sofa when what he really wanted to do was throw it at the wall. He went back to his crunches until the phone beeped again. This time the text came from Natasha.

 _Sorry about Peggy, Steve. I told James. Anything he and I can do?_

He thanked God for his friends as he tapped out, _Thanks. I'll let you know_.

Not more than a minute had gone by when he received yet another text, this one from Coulson expressing his sympathy as well, and offering to give him someone to talk to, if he needed or wanted it. Steve thanked him, and shut off the phone so wouldn't be bothered anymore.

Getting to his feet, Steve stood in the middle of the room wondering what to do now that the first woman he'd ever cared for was gone. He went into the bedroom and opened the closet. Nope. Nothing suitable to wear to a funeral.

He showered, dressed and walked up the street to a men's clothing store. An hour later, he'd been fitted for a suit. When the owner realized who he was, he put a rush on the alterations, and would call when it was ready.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the store, Steve stared into the sky, remembering their first conversation and how at ease he'd been with Peggy from the beginning, his occasional foot-in-mouth notwithstanding. She was the first woman besides his mother and Bucky's to see him for more than his outward appearance. If the serum hadn't worked, they may have still made some sort of life together, though he doubted it. Given the nature of her job, she would've spent most of her career out of the country.

He texted Joi to call him when she had a few minutes, and left it at that.

Turning right, Steve began walking without any real destination in mind, and found himself on Constitution Avenue. As he approached the National WWII Memorial, his eyes searched out his name.

 _Rogers, Captain Steven G. August 1945_

For a brief moment, he thought about contacting those responsible and asking them to remove his name, but decided just to leave it.

He wandered over to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, watching the images of the surrounding buildings ripple on the water's surface. Turning in a circle, he soaked in the history of the area, wishing he'd been here to experience it for himself. Starting his walk again, he heard the pounding of running shoes on the concrete.

"On your left," a voice called out as he passed, and kept going toward the setting sun. The African-American man was fast, but Steve could run rings around him without even breathing hard. Rather than show him up, Steve made his way over to Joi's café. She wasn't there, but the staff knew him and brought his usual. He settled at a table in the corner, drinking coffee and brooding.

 **Nocturnal Diversions Studio**

 **A Few Days Later**

"Cut, cut, cut!" yelled the director, Simon. Huffing with annoyance, he stood, dropped the clipboard in his seat and pulled off his headphones. "It's not working _again_. Take ten, everybody."

Joi resisted yelling back because that's all the man had done all day. He'd put her with other chefs and told them to argue without giving them specifics. No matter what subject they chose, he nixed it, telling them in no uncertain terms that they just weren't believable. Well, duh! How can you argue with someone whom you've never even laid eyes on until today?

This time Simon put her with Leigh Wolfson, a chef from one of the premier hotels in the D.C. area. Joi knew her by reputation, though they'd never met. In between takes, the women found they had a lot in common. So much so that they ended up laughing like old friends.

When Joi came out of the bathroom, the A.D., a woman named Amalie, was waiting for her. "Simon wants to go in another direction, Joi. He's going to put you with one of the men since you seem to have made friends with all of the women."

Heaving a sigh, Joi nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever." They walked toward the studio. "I don't know how you do this every day. I'm worn out just watching Simon work."

Amalie grinned. "It's a calling, I guess. We all have our strengths. Yours is creating edible masterpieces. Mine is putting up with temperamental directors, and coddling difficult celebrities." She pulled Joi to a stop, looking left and right. "Between you and me, I hope you win this thing, just because I know it will piss off Simon and that other guy. Oh, man you should hear what he says about you."

"Frank Vitale" Joi growled. "He is _so_ full of himself. He's an arrogant, self-important, pompous, egotistical _jackass_!"

Joi took several deep breaths to calm down, and when she could speak without shouting, she found that Amalie had disappeared. Not that she blamed her. She had her mother's temper, and once she got going there was no telling what might come out of her mouth.

A quick check of the time told her she had less than a minute to reappear on the sound stage. Simon demanded that his "stars" never be late, and she made it with seconds to spare. Frank was lounging against the wall talking to a crewmember. The woman said something, and he threw head back, laughing as if it were funniest thing he'd ever heard. Even from the other side of the studio she could hear the false note. Inside her head, the word _jerk_ blinked over his head in sickly green color. Well, if _he_ could pretend to be in a good mood, so could she.

Pasting on a bright smile, Joi marched over to Frank as the crew member scurried away. "Guess it's you and me, Francis."

Though he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. " _Franklin_ ," he corrected with annoyance.

Joi crossed her arms. "So you're not really Italian then, or it would be _Francis_."

"That's funny, coming from you."

Confused, Joi scowled up at him. He was over six feet, forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "What d'you mean?"

"I checked up on you, _Esmeralda_. No wonder you go by Joi. Who wants to be associated with an inept witch on a mediocre defunct television show?"

 _Oh, he is so damn smug! He's also messing with the wrong girl!_ Taking a step closer, she poked him in the chest. "That's rich coming from someone whose _rigatoni al forno_ tastes like Spaghetti-Os, and his _sogliole alla mugnaia_ smells like Virginia Beach at low tide!"

Frank dropped his arms to the side and straightened his spine, making him appear even taller. "Those are my _family's_ recipes, handed down for generations. _Come osi scagliare insulti!_ _Sei maleducato_ _when y_ our Buffalo Chicken Sliders are inedible and the Rosemary Sweet Potatoes are overcooked!"

" _Oserei perche sei un stronzo!_ " Joi turned go and came right back. "And for your information, I was named after the character of Esmeralda in my grandmother's favorite novel, _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_. And she was _not_ a witch, inept or otherwise."

It all went downhill from there. They continued shouting and waving their arms, and no one tried to stop them.

What neither of them noticed was that Amalie had the cameraman record everything. She looked over at Simon and grinned, the pair sharing a fist bump. This would be epic! Their best show ever. And they hadn't even aired the first promo yet.

 **A Few Days Later**

Sitting between Steve and Justin on her grandfather's sofa with family gathered around, Joi waited anxiously for the first _Chef vs. Chef_ promo to air on the Culinary Channel during _Home Bakery - Christmas Edition_.

The recipes the _pâtisserie_ used were too complicated for the average, every-day cook just trying to get through the holidays with their sanity intact. If she were the host, she would go with something like…

Joi quashed her internal voice when Justin shook her hard. "It's on! It's on!"

She turned the volume up, and over the next two minutes, she squeezed Steve's hand so hard, if he'd been an average man, the bones might've broken.

When the ad ended, there was a moment of stunned silence. Joi handed the remote to Steve, stood, tugged her top down over her hips, and picked her way between those sitting on the floor. In the kitchen, she leaned her hands on the counter, closed her eyes and counted to ten, and kept going. By the time she reached one hundred and seven, she heard footsteps behind her just before a hand touched her upper back, urging her to turn around. She did, and found herself pressed into Steve's comforting embraced. Her fingers dug into the material of the dark blue sweater he wore over a white t-shirt. "I am _so_ damn angry!"

Steve rubbed her back soothingly. "Can't you sue them for defamation of character?"

"Everyone signed a contract saying they could use any footage for promoting the show." Joi pushed back suddenly, her eyes wide. "Damn! He'll think I staged the argument just for publicity."

"The director?"

"No. _Him_! Frank Vitale!" Growling, Joi backed away from Steve, crossing her arms and facing the windows that looked out into the front yard. "This is all _his_ fault."

Warm hands lightly massaged her shoulders. "Take a deep breath. Try to relax."

With Steve's comforting voice and firm chest as a backdrop, Joi let out a long sigh. "He started it by trying to get me to drop out. How did he even get a list of the contestants? I asked, and was turned down more than once."

"Maybe he knows someone who works at the studio."

"If he did, he wouldn't be able to participate. Anyway, it doesn't matter." Joi inhaled and let it out on a sigh. "I just don't know how I'm going to show my face in public."

Steve turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders. "The same way you do everything, babe. Like a steam engine. Full speed ahead."

"You always know what to say." Joi patted his hand on her shoulder. "When is Peggy's funeral?"

"Two days. Bucky and I were asked to be pall bearers."

She turned to face him, still holding his hand. "I'd be there if I could."

Steve's sad smile almost broke her heart. "Your career is important, and Natasha will be there. I'll be fine." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Appreciate the thought though."

 **The Smithsonian**

 **January 18** **th**

 **Howling Commandoes**

 **Exhibit Dedication Ceremony**

Christmas and New Year's passed with no major drama aside from snow, and the anticipation of the Howling Commandos exhibit opening. Steve and Bucky talked it over, and had decided to appear in suits of the era, but were voted down by the Barnes family. The majority wanted them in Army dress uniforms.

Because their originals were being used as part of the exhibit, with Natasha's help they located a company that could recreate their dress uniforms using vintage materials. Steve stayed the night before at Bucky's so they could ride together, waving and smiling at the crowd as they pulled up to the museum's main entrance.

For the first couple of hours, Steve and Bucky dutifully posed for photos with the museum's board of directors, benefactors, and local celebrities, bearing the attention with a smile. For the general public, there would be photos and autographs after the banquet.

While the band set up, Steve found a corner where he could see the main entrance, yet remain separated from the mingling crowd. Bucky appeared next to him with a glass of scotch in each hand. Steve took one and downed most of it in one swallow. "Tell me this'll be over soon, Buck."

"Wish I could. There's still dancing, dinner, and after." Bucky stared into his glass, rattling the ice. "The girls should be here soon. Have you talked to Joi yet?"

Once again, guilt tickled at Steve's conscience. The past couple of months had been so busy there hadn't been a good time for Joi and he to have a private talk. He shook his head and downed the rest of his drink.

"Don't wait for the time to be right, Steve. Just do it. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for both of you."

"I'm supposed to just blurt out that I kissed someone else?"

Bucky slapped Steve in the chest with his free hand. "You kissed another woman while dating my granddaughter?"

Steve kept his eyes averted. "Yeah." Confused at Bucky's tone, he asked, "How did you find out?"

His friend snorted into his glass, took another sip, and looked away. "I didn't."

"Then what're you talking about?"

"Nothing." Again, Bucky avoided his gaze. "Tell me about it. How did it happen?"

Huffing, Steve shoved a hand in one pocket of his pants. "We were on a mission, and that's how we distracted the guard so we could break into the morgue." He shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his head. "And I liked it. _Really_ like it. I wanted to…"

His best friend was silent for so long, Steve thought he wouldn't respond. Then, when he did, Steve got the feeling he'd been about to say something different.

"There's a lot you haven't been telling me, Steve."

"Because it's _confidential_." A server came by, took their empty glasses, and replaced them with champagne.

Bucky swirled the amber liquid and took a sip. "What's her name?"

"Maria Hill. She represented SHIELD at the funeral, and again tonight." Steve glanced around the room, locating Hill talking to a man and woman who'd been introduced as relatives of DumDum Dugan.

Hill wore a black dress that hugged her curves, emphasizing them while appearing to minimize her appeal. If that had been her goal, she failed miserably. A small black hat with a froth of netting perched on the left side of her head, and her hair was loose, parted on the right, the waves not quite touching her shoulders. Her feet were tucked into black and white open toed heels, and from this distance, her legs appeared to be bare. As a whole, the package came across as chic and sophisticated, not to mention sexy as hell.

Steve pointed her out, and waited for Bucky's response. Again, his friend slapped him on the chest. "She's _hot_! No wonder you haven't told Joi."

"We've both been too busy to get into a deep discussion about our relationship." Another server came by, and Steve handed him the empty glass. A bright splash of red at the entrance caught his attention. His jaw dropped, and he found it difficult to breathe.

"You okay, Steve? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Unable to speak at first, Steve swallowed hard, and whispered, "I think I just did."

 **TBC**

The character of Esmeralda was a kind, but shy and inept witch on the series _Bewitched_. The show aired from 1964 to 1972. Esmeralda was played by Alice Ghostley, added to the cast as a replacement for Samantha's Aunt Clara.

Esméralda born Agnès, is a fictional character in Victor Hugo's 1831 novel _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_ (or _Notre Dame de Paris_ ).

Italian:

 _Come osi scagliare insulti!_ = How dare you hurl insults

 _Sei maleducato_ _= How rude_

 _Oserei perche sei un stronzo!_ = I dare because you're an a$$hole


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks also go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for making sure I didn't commit any major _faux pas_.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 13**

"Peggy?"

Bucky looked over at his friend, and back to the woman. From this distance, she did resemble Peggy Carter as she'd looked that night in the bar when she ignored him in favor of Steve. She'd been wearing a red dress, her dark hair freed from its professional constraints. Relieved that Steve wasn't going bonkers, Bucky squeezed his shoulder. "It's Joi. Breathtaking, doesn't she?"

Steve panted a few times, and closed his mouth, sighing in relief. "Yes, she is." Movement behind Joi caught his attention. "Natasha's with her."

Bucky tried once more to take off his wedding ring. Still no luck. "S***!"

"What?"

"I can't get my ring off. Been trying for two weeks. It won't budge." He twisted and tugged. Huffing in exasperation, Bucky growled, "Don't just _stand_ there. Help me before Natasha sees."

Steve looked at Bucky's hand. "What d'you want _me_ to do? Break your finger off at the knuckle?"

"No. Just… Never mind." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Here they come. Smile like nothing's wrong."

"There's something wrong?"

When Joi and Natasha joined them, both men were standing straight and tall with welcoming smiles. They gave their girls a kiss, and waved to a server who brought them glasses of champagne. Bucky held his glass while he admired Natasha.

Her dress was similar to Hill's in deep purple with pleats on the sides. Unlike Joi, Natasha wore a hat, gloves and enormous sunglasses that matched the dress. She'd gone back to the dark red for her hair, the two colors paying off of each other in an elegant _pas de deux_. When she pulled the glasses down so she could see him better, a slow and sultry smile turned up her bright red lips. Green eyes flicked to Steve and back to Bucky. "Hello, boys."

The husky sound of her voice made Bucky feel like a schoolboy on his first date with a more experienced older woman. The hand dropped to her side as the other one brought the glass to her lips, her eyes never leaving his as the liquid flowed down her throat. To keep from fidgeting, he shoved one hand into his pants pocket and drank all of his champagne at once. Not that the alcohol would help because he couldn't get drunk. Not even a decent buzz. When it first happened, every few months he would drink enough booze to kill the average man, and he never even got a hangover. That sucked almost as much as not being able to get his ring off.

The band started playing, and the women turned to watch as couples filled the dance floor, their hips swaying in time to Tommy Dorsey's _Opus One_. What the band's lead trombone player lacked skill, he made up for in showmanship.

Bucky jabbed Steve in the side and held up his left hand. Steve shrugged don't-look-at-me, annoying his friend. At a loss as to what to do, Bucky whispered, "Excuse me, ladies. I'll be right back."

Escaping through the crowd, Bucky ducked into the nearest men's room, removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Turning on the cold water, he held his left hand under it hoping to reduce the swelling. When that didn't work, he rubbed soap all around the ring. Epic failure again. Leaning on the edge of the sink, he swore under his breath. He was working out his next move without knowing what that would be when a man came in, did what he had to do, and came to use the sink to his left.

Frustrated, Bucky went back to twisting and pulling, and pulling and twisting, still unable to get the ring off. "Dammit to _hell_!"

The other man dried his hands, watching Bucky's struggle. "Excuse me. My name is David Riddle. I've been hoping to run into you, General Barnes. My grandfather was one of the men you and Captain Rogers rescued from the Red Skull." He looked down at Bucky's hand, the ring finger red and irritated. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Bucky snorted. "If you have an idea I haven't already tried that doesn't involve surgery or cutting the ring off, please do."

From his pocket, the man brought out a dental floss dispenser, and a small pocket knife. "Rest your hand on the counter, palm up, and hold still."

Riddle pulled off a yard-long piece of floss. Using the knife, he pushed one end under the ring towards his palm. Working with intense concentration, he wound the floss around Bucky's finger above the ring, and tied the end off so it wouldn't unravel.

"What're you doing?"

The man smiled. "It's an old engineer's trick."

Taking hold of the end near his palm, Riddle slowly unwound the floss, and as he did, the ring moved up his finger until it came off and fell to the counter. Bucky snatched it up, and dropped it into his pocket. He grabbed his benefactor by the shoulders and shook him. "You're a miracle worker! Thanks."

"You're welcome, General. It was an honor meeting you."

The men shook hands. Bucky's savior nodded and left him alone. He washed and dried his hands to get rid of the wax from the floss, rolled down his sleeves, and put his jacket back on. If the fact that he still wore his wedding ring so long after his wife had died was why Natasha turned down all of his marriage proposals, it stood to reason she'd say yes this time.

For a moment, he entertained the thought of taking her out to the garden and asking again, but two things stopped him. One, the temperature was dropping due to a cold front, with snow flurries by noon tomorrow. And two, he searched within and saw that she was right. He loved Natasha, and wanted to them to be together, but marriage was off the table for now, and only partly because neither of them was ready. One of the many things he loved about her was that she would understand without him saying a word.

Before leaving, he checked his look in the mirror. Because he preferred it long, instead of cutting his hair, Bucky had slicked it back. He straightened his nametag, and medals, tugged his jacket down over his hips, and returned to Natasha's side. Steve and Joi were on the dance floor. The way they were moving, it was obvious that Joi was teaching him how to dance.

Bucky offered his hand to Natasha. "May I have this dance?"

She took off the sunglasses, and tucked them in a corner out of the way. Her eyes were filled with warmth as she accepted his offer. "You may."

~~O~~

As Joi came closer, Steve sorted himself out enough to at least appear normal when she stopped in front of him, hands clutching a small black bag, waiting for him to speak. "Hi."

She smiled. "Shouldn't that be 'what's buzzin', cousin'?"

"You're _not_ my cousin."

One side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Thank God for that or this would not only be weird, it would be illegal in some states." Steve laughed, breaking the tension that apparently only _he_ felt. Joi pirouetted, the flared hem of her dress flouncing as she moved. "What d'you think? Forties enough?"

This close, Steve could see the differences as well as the similarities that caused him to flash back to the war. While the dress was a similar style to Peggy's, this one was a different shade of red, with a black stripe around the hem and neckline. Her hair had been curled, and parted on the side rather than the center the way she normally wore it. The blonde-ish streaks had been colored to match the rest of her hair, and her dusky pink lip gloss that tasted like strawberries now matched the color of the dress. She wore a watch on her left wrist, a heart pendant with a small diamond in the center and matching earrings.

Moving close, Steve rested his hands on her upper arms. "It's perfect. You look beautiful."

Joi turned her face up for a kiss, and he took the hint. When he lifted his head, he saw Hill across the room watching. One eyebrow arched, almost as if she were issuing a challenge. She took a glass of champagne from a passing server, turning away as she brought it to her lips.

Not knowing what to make of her actions, or if he should even be wondering if they meant anything at all, Steve put an arm around Joi's shoulders. "Are your brothers coming?"

"Yes. They'll be here soon. Can't wait to see what they came up with."

"Oh?" This from Bucky as he kissed his granddaughter's cheek.

She patted him on the shoulder. "They wanted to come dressed as Hitler and that other guy, the one with the red face."

"Schmidt," Bucky and Steve said at the same time, Bucky with a growl.

"Told them that if they came as Nazis…"

Bucky had his arm around Natasha, his hand resting on her hip. "You'd never speak to them again?"

Joi shook her head and scoffed. "Hell, no. I reminded them that, as their older sister, I know where all their 'bodies' are buried, and I have a _big_ shovel."

~~O~~

Justin and Chase showed their invitations at the door, and though the security guard looked doubtful, he accepted their credentials as genuine. Neither was dating anyone seriously, and so their plus-one went unused. Chase swept his gaze left to right while Justin went right to left. They spotted Gramps at the same time on the opposite side of the dance floor standing with Steve, Joi, and Natasha.

Getting into their assumed roles as young men from the forties, they strutted along the edge of the dance floor, Justin swinging his gold watch chain and tipping his hat to the ladies. Chase shoved both hands in his pockets, chewed gum, and feigned indifference in the proceedings while still keeping watch.

Chase wore a grey double-breasted suit with a vest, a gold chain indicating the presence of a pocket watch. A fedora perched on his head, dipped low over his right eye. A white shirt and a grey, white, black and red tie with matching pocket square finished off the look.

Justin was the more flamboyant of the twins, though not because he was gay. It was just his personality. To show off his style, he was dressed in a black suit with wide pinstripes, black and white shoes, and a black fedora. His tie was red, black and white, with a red pocket square. In deference to the era, he'd cut his hair short, and called it a day.

By the time they reached the opposite side, Gramps and Steve were on the dance floor with Natasha and Joi. Justin nudged Chase. "Sis is having a good time."

"So's Gramps. Natasha's been good for him. Got him interested in stuff again."

"Yeah. Mom still doesn't like her though."

The older twin accepted two glasses of champagne, handing one to his brother. "She doesn't like the fact that he's found someone, _or_ that they're sleeping together. Mom prefers to wallow in the delusion that Gramps has only had sex four times in his life."

Chase huffed, downed all of his champagne at once, and set the glass on a tray as a server passed. "After what that scientist did to him, he'll probably outlive us all."

"We inherited his genes," Justin reminded his brother. "Maybe we'll be just like him. Young and virile well into our nineties."

"If only…"

The song ended, and soon they were joined by their sister, grandfather, Steve and Natasha. They kissed the women on the cheek and shook hands with the men.

~~O~~

Bucky looked his grandsons over, shaking his head at Justin's loud stripes. "Who dressed you, pal? Bozo, the clown?"

Justin groaned, and handed his empty glass to a server as she passed. "I'll have you know I paid prime lettuce for this Zoot Suit, Daddy-o, so don't bust my chops." He opened his jacket to show that underneath, instead of a vest, he wore black and white suspenders. Tucking his thumbs under the elastic, he pulled the straps out and let go. To his delight, the band picked up the beat with a fast-paced swing number. He looked from Natasha to Joi, affecting a heavy New York accent, waggling his thumbs. "Eidder o' you dames wanna Terpsichore around the floor wit yours truly?"

Joi waved her hands. "Way too fast for me."

He stepped to Natasha's side and winked. "What d'you say, Nat?"

She pulled off her gloves, and handed them to Bucky. "I'll try almost anything once."

"O-oh, the possibilities!" Justin leered outrageously while giving her the onceover. "That dress is mighty tight for hoofin', doll."

With a grin, Natasha reached back, and a moment later, her dress had changed from a form-fitting sheath into a full skirt. She twisted side to side, making it swish. "Ready when you are, _doll_."

~~O~~

 _In the Mood_.

Back in the day, it had been one of Bucky's favorite songs. This band played it just a little faster than Glenn Miller. He liked it.

As Justin walked out onto the dance floor, he made a show of taking off his jacket and tossing it to Chase. Then he removed his hat and sailed it after the jacket. Joi caught it. Not to be outdone, Natasha made a series of graceful spins, stopping when Justin caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. He gazed down at her as if she the woman of his dreams, paused for a few seconds, and they went right into their dance.

Watching his grandson dance with Natasha, he recalled how the boy had taken dancing lessons into his teens, and had excelled at it. If he'd chosen another path, he could've been a rising young star in Hollywood, or on Broadway as an actor, singer, song-writer, and dancer. Any one or all of the above. When it came to anything musical, Justin had gotten all the genes. That he identified as gay, and had an occasional heterosexual dalliance meant nothing to his family.

Tonight, however, Justin outdid himself, and so did Natasha. The few times they'd actually danced Bucky had been impressed at her grace and talent. But then, like Justin, he figured it was a combination of a natural gift and training to enhance those abilities.

Natasha and Justin put on a show guaranteeing that all eyes would be on them. And when the band came to a slam-bang finish, Justin swept Natasha into a spin, gathered her close and dipped her low, garnering applause and whistles from the crowd.

He escorted her back to their little group, holding her hand and bowing over it. "Thank you for the dance, lovely lady."

"You're welcome, kind sir."

~~O~~

Steve excused himself, Bucky was dancing with the wife of one of the museum's most generous contributors, and the boys were off doing who knows what. Joi took the opportunity to speak to Natasha alone. If anyone could help, it would be her.

"I'd like your opinion on something, Natasha."

She nodded graciously. "What about?"

"Steve. We don't spend every night together, so I'm not sure how often it happens." She bit her lower lip, thinking. "He's been having bad dreams, and when I wake him up, he seldom goes back to sleep. Most of the time he goes to the gym to pound on a punching bag, but instead of helping, it's getting worse. And sometimes he seems to be pissed off for no reason."

"When did it start?"

One shoulder went up and down. "It's been gradual. At first the dreams were every couple of weeks, but now they're coming every night. The nights I'm with him, at least. A few times, it was difficult to wake him. Others, he woke himself."

"Sounds like PTSD. Not surprised, after what he's been through. Have you tried getting him to talk about it?"

Joi sighed, took a sip of champagne, and peered into the glass. "Yes, but you know how he is. Most of the time, he's an open book, but not when it comes to these dreams. As soon as I mention seeing a therapist, the walls go up, and I could be talking to myself for all the good it does." She finished off the champagne, and just held the glass. "The only person he might listen to is Gramps."

"And you want me to ask him." Natasha briefly grasped her free hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'll speak to James in the morning when he's rested."

"Thanks, Natasha." The song ended, and the audience clapped. "I'm really glad Gramps met you. He's been happier these past few months than I've seen him since Grams died."

Natasha accepted a glass from one of the servers. "I appreciate hearing that, Joi. James is an easy man to love."

~~O~~

Greg Peterson made himself part of the crowd watching the dancers just long enough to give Barnes time to rejoin the woman he'd seen him speaking to earlier. They were so far away, he wasn't completely certain of her identity, however, there was no mistaking that hair. The woman dancing with Barnes had to be Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.

His employers had been searching for her since they received intel on the meeting in Paris. Word on the street said she was looking into the movement of tanks into and out of Russia. Whomever she worked for would deal only with the top dog, as they said in America. While the man at the top would do business with Americans, he considered it beneath him to go to those he thought of as his inferiors. They must always come to him. It was his way of asserting his dominance, putting others in their place, just as he would with the Black Widow. He was here to make contact, and invite her to a rendezvous in Russia.

Peterson-which was not even close to his real name-made his way to the second floor balcony, taking a position in the camera's blind spot. The cameras on this floor did not include audio, making it the perfect place to make clandestine phone call. " _Privet_ … _Da…_ _Chernaya Vdova… Konechno… Segodnya noch'yu…_ _Ochen' khorosho…_ " Footsteps echoed in the hall to his left just before a guard came into sight. Peterson immediately switched to English, "…I told you I had this thing tonight… Over a month ago, Sandra, but you didn't want to come… I didn't bring my mother in your place, honey. I came alone… Oh, baby, please to don't cry… I'll be home right after dessert… Yes, I'll stop and get you…"

"This floor's off limits, sir." He gestured toward the stairs.

"Gotta go, honey. Love you." He shut the phone off and returned it to his breast pocket. "Sorry. My wife has been a little down since she broke her ankle." Nodding to the guard, he ran down to the first floor. The guard at the bottom of the stairs gave his badge a brief perusal, nodded once and dismissed him.

Romanoff and her group greeted two young men warmly. There was animated conversation, drinking and dancing. Romanoff and one of the younger men made a public spectacle of themselves on the dance floor, and the audience encouraged them with applause. _Amerikantsy! Debily_ _!_

Not long after, the attendees were called into the banquet hall. Earlier, one of Peterson's associates had changed the seating cards so that he would be at a table near the Black Widow and her companions so he could eavesdrop on their conversations.

Pasting on a welcoming smile, he found his seat. It was in a perfect position to see and hear what was going on. The two men in military uniforms were shown to the dais while the rest of their group, plus a few late arrivals, filled up several of the front tables.

Food and drink were served by men and women also in WWII era clothing. Peterson didn't care for most American dishes, but the menu reflected the 1940s made with a modern flair, and turned out to be quite tasty.

The speeches followed dessert and after dinner drinks. Each attendee was asked to pick a dish from the dessert carts wheeled around the room. He chose the least objectionable looking offering to have with tea, Pear Crumble.

A famous American actor had gladly provided his services as the narrator for the exhibit. While he was expounding on patriotism, truth, and honor, Romanoff excused herself. Peterson waited a measured amount of time to also leave the table so it wouldn't appear that he was following. With a nod, he signaled his associates, and one by one they left the banquet hall.

~~O~~

Natasha carried a small clutch bag in her left hand as she made her way to the ladies' room. It belonged to Joi, the women electing to share.

As she suspected, her contact and his accomplices trailed her down the long hallway. She turned the corner, stopped, and waited. When the first man appeared, Natasha struck out using the purse as a weapon. He hadn't expected the attack, and now lay on the floor moaning in pain, and clutching his family jewels.

The others must've heard because they were more cautious in their approach. And though Natasha valiantly fought back, she was eventually brought down by their superior forces.

Two of the men dragged her into an unused office and forced her to sit in a chair, one man on either side holding her down. "Who are you? My friends will come looking for me, if I don't come back."

Peterson moved around in front of her, a disgusting sneer on his face that was reflected in his voice. "So you're the Black Widow. I must say you don't live up to your reputation as a skilled fighter."

He spoke Russian, and she responded in the same language. One side of her mouth turned up in disdain. "Maybe I didn't want to waste my best moves on a bunch of flunkeys." She moved her shoulders, and he took the hint, sending his trained gorillas away with a small wave. They released her, but stayed close. "My employers are eager to do business with your organization."

"What if we do not need or want a business partner in our ventures?"

She crossed one leg over the other as one hand pulled the skirt of her dress up to expose the lower part of her thigh. "I'm certain that we can come to an agreement that will be beneficial to all parties."

"Tell me what you can bring to the table, as the Americans say, and I will take it before the man in charge. If he finds in your favor, we'll set up a time and place."

To give him the impression that she was thinking over his offer, Natasha stared at the clock on the credenza behind the desk. She held her hand out and the gorilla on the right handed over her bag. She opened it and withdrew a thumb drive which she handed to the man in charge. "My companions and I will be leaving at midnight. You have until then to make up your mind." She stood, smoothed her hands down the front and back of her dress, and checked that her hair and hat were still in place. "If we haven't heard from you by then, we'll take our vast resources where they _will_ be appreciated."

As she turned to leave, the gorillas blocked her way. Their eyes flicked from the leader to her, and a moment later, she was allowed to leave. " _Spokoynoy nochi_."

On her way to rejoin the others, Natasha ducked into the ladies' room, and was back out again in less than three minutes. By the time she returned to the table, Steve was just finishing the speech she helped him write. Bucky was on his left, feigning boredom.

"…and now, I am honored to introduce to you the man who made this exhibit possible, General James Buchanan Barnes."

~~O~~

Bearing the applause as if he fully deserved it, Bucky stood to give Steve a hug, whispering in his ear, "Punk."

Without losing his smile, Steve said out the side of his mouth, "Jerk."

Bucky took his place behind the podium. "Thank you for that warm welcome." He held up a stack of index cards. "I'm not an actor, so I'm going old-school for my speech." He sorted through the cards. "Let's see. Which joke should I open with?" Giving each card a quick read, he rejected three right off the top, tearing the cards in half. "Nope… nope… Oh, _hell_ no."

The audience laughed as he finally got it all in order. Taking a deep breath, Bucky cast a glance over the audience. "And then the Lieutenant says to me, ' _I'll_ take the blonde, and _you_ take the one in the turban'." There was confused laughter, and Bucky shuffled frantically through the cards once more with a sheepish smile. He caught Natasha's eye and grinned. "That's not right. Guess I should've numbered them. How about if I just wing it?"

 **TBC**

 _Opus No. 1_ is a popular song, composed in 1943 by Sy Oliver, with lyrics by Sid Garris. The tune is often titled "Opus One", or "Opus #1". It has become a standard song in the swing, jazz and big band repertoire. The song was a big hit for the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra in 1944.

 _In the Mood_ is a big band-era #1 hit recorded in 1940 by American bandleader Glenn Miller.

Russian (From Google Translate):

 _Privet_ = Hello

 _Da_ = Yes

 _Chernaya Vdova_ = Black Widow

 _Konechno_ = Of course

 _Segodnya noch'yu_ = Tonight

 _Ochen' khorosho_ = Very well

 _Debily_ = Morons


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 14**

Looking over the sea of faces, Bucky picked out those of his children and their spouses, along with several of the grandkids. Serenity smiled and gave him a thumbs up when their eyes met. He'd gripped the side of the podium, his shoulders slightly hunched, as he usually did when speaking publically. For his granddaughter's sake, he stood tall and signed the remainder of his speech.

In the back of the room, the event coordinator, Maxine "Max" Binder, gave him a nod and a smile. His assistant, Gail, approached, they spoke briefly, and the two women left the room. No doubt there was a minor fire to put out.

At the conclusion of his speech, Bucky announced the museum curator, Wiley Redmond, an African-American woman in her sixties, and went to sit with his family. He tried to pay attention, to appear interested in what Wiley was saying, but his mind kept drifting. Not that he was thinking about anything in particular. It was more like he was reliving old memories from one of the wars in which he'd fought, but with a surreal twist, as though the search and destroy missions were being fought against civilians instead of the enemy soldiers. And he wasn't himself, but someone else.

He jumped when Natasha touched him on the arm, as though his skin were hypersensitive. She gave him a questioning glance, and to set her mind at ease, he whispered, "Tired. It's been a long day and night."

"Steve said you were up most of the night, _lyubimaya_. He heard you go out, and come back hours later."

Once again, Bucky didn't remember leaving the house. To hide his confusion, he patted her hand. "Couldn't sleep. Took a walk."

"You were gone for _five_ hours. That's a long walk."

"Lost track of time. I would've called Steve to come get me, but I forgot my phone."

Natasha's hand gripped his. "Well, you're staying home tonight even if I have to handcuff you to the bed."

Under normal circumstances, just the image would fill him with excitement. But not tonight. To hide how he was feeling, Bucky grinned. "I should misbehave more often."

The room applauded as Wiley concluded her speech, and Bucky's family gathered around to congratulate him. When Carolyn headed their way, Natasha faded out of the scene. One day soon, he would sit his daughter down and have a long talk with her, but tonight was for the museum, and he wouldn't let her ruin the evening by starting another argument.

Carolyn and her mother had been very close. They'd talked on the phone nearly every day, except for the weekend Connie died. The area around the lake was in a cell phone "dead zone" so none of them had thought it odd that they hadn't heard from Connie all weekend. His daughter had blamed herself because she hadn't planned on going on the trip then changed her mind at the last minute. The fact that Connie would've died even if she had received immediate medical attention didn't make Carolyn feel better. Perhaps that was why she resented Natasha's presence in his life. Regardless, she would just have to deal with it.

The group filed out to the ballroom where the band was just returning from their break. Bucky watched his family move out onto the floor, all but Serenity. Her husband had gone out of town on business, leaving her alone for the event. He was about to ask her to dance when he saw Steve approach her with Joi at his side. She watched as Steve haltingly signed his request with Joi's help. Carolyn's youngest smiled and nodded, and followed Steve out to the dance floor.

It made him feel exceptionally proud of his friendship with Steve that he would embrace his family to the point where he would learn to communicate with Serenity in her language. They moved around the floor, Steve gaining confidence by the minute.

Natasha slipped her hand into his and leaned close to be heard over the music. "Our little boy looks so grown up."

Holding in a laugh, Bucky sighed nostalgically. "Seems like only seventy years ago, he was a skinny kid getting into back alley fights."

"It _was_ seventy years ago, _lyubimaya_."

The song ended, and Steve escorted Serenity back to their group. A few minutes later, Chase walked his sister to the coat room just outside the ballroom, and returned once he'd seen her on her way.

Gail joined them, watching the festivities with a critical and proud eye. "Sorry to bother you, Boss, but we've had an unusual request."

"Oh?"

She gave the impression that she might possibly be the bearer of bad news. "One of our major contributors would like a dance."

"No problem. Which one?"

"Harrison Schiavi." Gail pointed to an Argentinean man in his early fifties with black hair, standing with a bald man the same age, both holding glasses of wine. They were talking to another couple that Bucky recognized, though he didn't remember their names. "Not with _you_. He wants your grandson to dance with his husband. That one."

She nodded at Justin. Bucky opened his mouth to say… what? Thankfully, he didn't have to say anything. Justin stepped in front of his grandfather. "Hmm. Not bad looking for an older guy. He looks like the type who'll want to lead, but that's not my style." The young man smoothed his hair back on both sides, buttoned the front of his jacket, and tugged his cuffs into place. "I got this, Gramps."

His family watched with various expressions of amazement and humor as Justin boldly strode up to the group, and introduced himself. They shook hands, and he made a vague gesture in Bucky's direction. The bald man nodded, handed his glass to a server, and the two went out onto the floor. The song changed to something up tempo, and Justin took over, leading his dancing partner in a flawless swing that didn't include dips as it had with Natasha or the other women with whom he'd danced.

When the song ended, Justin escorted the man back to his husband. It came as no surprise when he then asked the other half of the couple to dance.

The family watched in awe as, for the next hour, women, and a few men, lined up to dance with Justin. And Bucky had to admire his stamina though he didn't have far to go to find the source.

"Justin is an amazing boy, James," Natasha told him.

"He is. The military doctors who examined me over the years after my rescue from the lab said that the changes made to my DNA would most likely be passed onto future generations, though diluted by outside sources. Guess this proves their theory." Chase and Joi were dancing, and Steve had excused himself to take a walk. The rest of the family had gone home, leaving the original group to close the event down.

~~O~~

To ease his restlessness, Steve went for a walk through the exhibit, avoiding the guards and other guests. One of the displays had been dedicated to himself as the only Howling Commando to lose his life during their raids. The museum was in the process of updating to include the fact that he'd been resurrected. He wasn't comfortable with so much focus on him and his life, but the public would expect it.

As part of the exhibit, there was a section on the Strategic Scientific Reserve, the forerunner to SHIELD. Sepia toned photos of Colonel Phillips, Howard Stark and Peggy hung on the wall. Each had a plaque beside it with the person's name, date of birth, and date of death. He was saddened once again that Peggy's death had happened so recently that the engraving still looked new.

Steve took a seat on the bench against the far wall, closed his eyes, and just let history flow around him. His mind supplied the whoosh-BOOM of grenades, the staccato pops of weapons fire, men calling out to each other in the dark, the acrid scent of gunpowder, the stench of burning flesh, and the relatively pleasant wafting of trees set on fire.

So immersed in the past was he that he didn't hear someone enter the room him until she spoke.

"May I join you, Captain Rogers?"

Startled, Steve jumped to his feet. "Commander Hill." He offered her a seat and sat next to her, leaving as much space between them as possible. "You look lovely tonight."

One side of her mouth twitched upward. "Just tonight?"

Realizing what he said, Steve attempted to explain. "Yes. Uh, no. You're always… I mean your dress it's… And the hat is…" He stuttered to a stop, and looked down at the floor. "Guess I still don't know how to talk to women."

"You did fine while we were in Iowa City." Maria got to her feet, and he stood with her. "Show me around. I'd like to hear you tell the stories rather than listen to a recording."

He gestured for her to go ahead and came up beside her, hands clasped behind his back as she set a slow pace as though they were just out for a stroll. "Don't know what I can add. It's all there."

"Why are you here then?"

Steve shook his head, thinking how best to answer the question. "To get a glimpse of the world the way it used to be, the way I remember it."

They came to a stop in front of the mannequins depicting his team. The Captain America suit was a replica of the one he'd been wearing when the plane ditched in the ocean. Most wouldn't see the differences, but he did.

Maria stopped to examine each figure as if it were a laboratory specimen she found somewhat interesting as she read the plaque affixed to each. She smiled at Dugan's bowler hat and handlebar mustache, Jacques Dernier's beret, and Bucky's blue pea coat. "You know, it's not healthy to wallow in self-pity, Steve."

As if she were on the tour and he was her guide, Maria moved onto the next display, a photo of Steve etched into glass. The caption "A Fallen Comrade" was followed by a short biography of Steve's life. He resisted the note of irritation that wanted to creep into his voice. "Is it self-pity to remind yourself of what you've lost?"

Her perusal of the documents preserved in an air tight case complete, she faced him, tilting her head back to keep eye contact. "The things and people we think are lost will never be gone as long as we keep them in our heart."

Conceding that she had a point, Steve thought to tell her so, but then something changed. The thread that had been woven between them while they were in Iowa City pulled them toward each other. "And who do you keep in _your_ heart, Maria?"

For the first time since they met, Maria struck him as vulnerable, as if he'd touched a part of her she hoped would stay hidden for the rest of her life. She turned away, trailing a finger over the replica of the vita-rays capsule that had turned him into the man he was now. Though she likely hadn't meant it that way, the gesture was provocative and sensual, as if she were imagining doing the same to a man's body.

About the time Steve decided she would refuse to answer his question, Maria murmured, "My mother."

Not knowing what to say to that brief moment of complete honesty, he leaned his shoulder against the wall. "She's gone?" Hesitantly, Maria nodded, just once. "I'm sorry."

When she finally let their eyes meet again, her lips parted as if in invitation, compelling him to respond. Slowly, he leaned toward her, and she toward him. Their lips only had made the briefest contact when a voice called out.

" _Steve?_ "

Joi! He stepped back, guiltily averting his eyes. Maria closed her mouth and looked away. Now he could hear footsteps coming closer, muffled by the carpeting.

" _Steve?_ "

Preparing to make introductions, Steve walked to the corner. "Here, Joi." Her smile at seeing him made him feel even worse for having almost kissed Maria again.

"Gramps is looking for you. Time to face the paparazzi again." She looked past him. "Were you talking to someone?"

Steve turned around to find that Maria had left the area. Hell, she could be hiding for all he knew. "Myself." He took Joi's hand and led the way back to the ballroom, unable to resist one last glance over his shoulder before stepping into the light and noise again.

~~O~~

An elderly man dressed in a brown double breasted suit bowed in front of Natasha. "Would you care to dance, my dear?"

He was white haired, and wrinkled, with round wireframe glasses, and dark skin. She smiled, and got to her feet. "Of course."

He led her out to the dance floor, holding her in the classic slow dance pose. "My name is Harold."

"Natasha. What did you do during the war, Harold?"

"Nothing as grand as General Barnes and his team. My family made their fortune in tire manufacturing. The company is now one of the top three in the industry." The music was slow, and Harold was a decent dancer for a man his age. He swung her out and back then gave her a spin, bringing her into his arms again. "When we were younger, my wife and I used to go dancing a few times a month. Since she died, I haven't felt much like socializing. But I think I'm going to start again."

"Sorry for your loss. And I'm glad you're getting out there. It will do you good."

The song ended, and Harold escorted Natasha back to Steve and Joi who were sitting at a table talking quietly. "Where's James?"

Her friends looked around, and Steve shrugged. "Didn't see him leave."

Natasha smiled, though she was a little concerned, what with his recent tendency to sleepwalking. "He may not be feeling well. I'll go check the bathroom."

Joi's forehead creased in confusion. "But he never gets sick, not even a headache."

The hallway outside the ballroom curved to the left, passing the bathrooms, and ending at the exhibit. She knocked on the men's room door then went in. Empty. It wasn't likely that he would be in the women's room, but she checked anyway.

When Natasha came out, she headed for the exhibit, all senses alert for anything that seemed out of place. As she reached the wall dedicated to Steve, she heard breathing slow and steady. Turning in a circle, she found Bucky standing near the figures of Dr. Erskine, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark, staring straight ahead.

Moving silently, Natasha came around in front of Bucky, poised to defend herself if necessary. She took hold of his hand. Thankfully, he squeezed back. Then, he took a deep breath and looked at her with a smile. "Hey. What's up?"

"That's what _I_ was going to ask. Are you okay?"

He shrugged as if the answer should be obvious. "Fine. Why?"

It was obvious that something was wrong with Bucky, and the only way to find out what was happening was to keep watch over him twenty-four hours a day. Because that wasn't possible, even for Steve, Natasha made a decision. Tomorrow, she'd get him out of the house long enough to have one of her contacts install cameras everywhere but the bathrooms, and link the feeds to her phone so she could check on Bucky while she was away. And she would have to be at some point due to the on-going mission she'd been assigned.

"No reason." Gripping his hand tighter, she led him back toward the ballroom. At the sitting area outside the bathrooms, she pulled him over to a velvet covered love seat. Natasha slipped off her heels and wiggled her toes in the carpet. They sat quietly holding hands for a while. Bucky slipped the other arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She looked up at him with a smile. He returned it, and leaned down to give her a sweet kiss. The kind meant as a gesture of affection rather than as a prelude to things to come.

 _Say it now_ , she told herself. "James, when are you going to ask me to move in with you?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Was going to do it tonight on the way home." His expression was soft and filled with incredible affection. The only people who ever treated her that way was Clint and his family.

"Please come live with me?"

Natasha released his hand so she could touch his cheek. "I'll move my things in this week."

~~O~~

As the pair moved out of sight, an amorphous figure that seemed to change shape as it moved, separated itself from the deeper shadows, listening as the couple walked away. Alone, it turned in the opposite direction, and disappeared.

 **Midnight**

Joi, Natasha, Chase and Justin watched from a safe distance as Steve and Bucky finished up the last of their photo ops. Bucky turned away to hide a yawn, smiling brightly at the middle-aged couple who asked him to sign their program. He and Steve posed with the couple, shook their hands and wished them good night.

Max appeared out of nowhere. "That's it, guys. We're done."

"Thank God," was Bucky's heartfelt response. He unbuttoned his jacket and removed his tie. Steve did the same as Joi and Natasha joined them.

Natasha took Bucky's hand. "I'd say tonight was the cat's meow."

Max agreed, pushing a hand through her short black hair that looked even darker next to her fair skin. "I'll say. We made enough in contributions to keep the exhibit in the black for at least a decade."

"It's all _your_ doing, Max. You planned this shindig," Bucky reminded her. With a wink, he said, "Take the rest of the night off as a reward."

She mock scowled at him. "It's already past midnight, James. I'll be taking Thursday, and I'll see you Friday morning at none, even if it snows."

Chase had already retrieved their coats from the cloak room. He and Justin helped the women on with theirs while the guys helped themselves.

Outside, they waited for the valets to bring their vehicles. Natasha couldn't wait to get home and into her comfy pajamas. Steve and Joi had already driven away, and the boys had elected to walk to their vehicles instead of having them brought, leaving Natasha and Bucky alone with the last few valets, and several security guards. She leaned against his side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Excuse me, miss. I think you dropped this."

The couple turned at the sound of a man's voice. Natasha knew it would be her contact or one of his cohorts. The man had lingered until the very end, signaling her with a nod. Now he was holding out one of her purple gloves that she'd purposely left behind. She gave him a bland smile. "Yes, I did. Thank you."

The man tipped his hat and faded into the shadows as she shoved the glove into her coat pocket, hearing it crinkle. Her contact had placed a note inside.

Bucky's SUV pulled up to the curb. He gave the boy a folded bill, held her door then went around to the driver's side. It only took thirty minutes to get to the house, and finally, the night was over.

Natasha changed into her pajamas, and while Bucky was hanging up his uniform, she pulled the piece of paper from her glove. The instructions were short and to the point.

 _Kafe Siniy, St. Petersburg, Russia_

 _Four weeks, noon_

 **Sunday Afternoon**

Pacing around the living room, her hands twisting together, Joi waited for Steve to come out of the bathroom. He'd asked her to lunch however, his tone said there was more to the offer than a good meal in the company of his girl. Truthfully, Joi had a few things she wanted to get off her chest, and it sounded like Steve did too.

The glint of light off the shield drew her attention. She'd seen it sitting in the corner of the living room, but had never really stopped to examine it. Drawing one finger over the surface told her nothing of its true nature. Steve had mentioned that it was made of something called vibranium. Apparently it was the rarest metal in the world, found only in Wakanda. She picked it up, surprised at how light it was. It looked like steel, but felt like aluminum.

Sliding her left arm through the straps, Joi carried it to the mirror, striking a heroic stance that made her giggle. She stepped back, swinging the shield as if defending herself from invisible enemies, making fighting noises.

She swung around, ready to take out anyone trying to sneak up on her and found Steve leaning in the doorway to his bedroom grinning. He walked toward her. "HYDRA doesn't stand a chance against the mighty… what's your superhero name?"

Smiling sheepishly, she shrugged, and handed him the shield. "Never thought about it."

"How about the Star Spangled Girl? Because every hero needs a sidekick." Steve returned the circle of metal to the corner, and she thought he would take her in his arms as he usually did, but he didn't. His smile faded somewhat, and she knew s*** was about to get serious. "Joi, I have something to tell you. Afterwards, if you still want to go to lunch, we can."

Perching on the end of the sofa, Joi waited patiently for Steve to begin. It was good that he brought it up, because she had something to say as well. Gramps was right. She should've taken time from her busy schedule for this.

"When I went out of town for work a few weeks ago, I didn't go alone." He stopped pacing to lean against the wall.

"Okay."

His hands went into his pockets. "Because I'd never been undercover before, I was partnered with a female agent. One night while we were working, I kissed her."

That wasn't what Joi expected at all. "And?"

"And I liked it. A _lot_." Steve glanced down to his feet and back to her. "Can you forgive me?"

 **TBC**

If anyone wants to see the suits and dresses the characters are wearing, they're posted to Tumblr.

Namaste,

Sunny


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 15**

Joi hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. _Now you've done it, Rogers_. Steve sat down next to her, holding out a box of tissues. He hadn't dealt with a crying woman since he couldn't remember when. "I'm sorry, Joi. Tell me how to make it better?"

She snatched a tissue and used it to wipe her eyes. When she faced him again, instead of the hurt he expected, he saw humor. "A drink would be nice."

Confused, Steve rushed to the kitchen and came back with cold soft drink for each of them. He twisted the top loose and handed it to her. She took a long sip, and set the bottle on the end table.

"Joi…"

"That was _ironic_ laughter, Steve. I've been trying to work up the courage to tell you…" she indicated herself, "… _I_ kissed someone too."

Startled, Steve blinked at her. Their eyes met, and they both chuckled. "I don't have a lot of experience with this. What happens now?"

"How about we just take a break? At least until the show is over. I want to explore the _possibility_ of a relationship with him, and I'm sure you have the same idea for her."

He couldn't say, because he wasn't sure if Maria felt the same way, though their almost-kiss at the museum would indicate she did. "We'll still see each other at family gatherings. Won't it be awkward?"

Joi held his hand in a tight grip. "For a while, but it'll get better. And no matter what _I_ say, Mom will be convinced it was _your_ fault. Don't let her get under your skin. I understand if you want to give the family thing a rest for a while. Gramps will too. Want me to talk to him?"

He shook his head. "I'll do it. So you'll be bringing this guy with you on holidays?"

She waggled her hand. "We'll see. What about her?"

"Same." He finished off his drink and carried the bottle to the kitchen. Joi was holding her bottle, wiping a thumb through the condensation when he came back, again leaning in the doorway. "Still friends?"

"Of course." Joi stood and let him help her into her coat, picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

Steve lightly gripped her upper arms. "Still want to go eat?"

"Sure. Have you tried Thai yet?"

"No." Steve shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat and did up the front. As they went out the front door, he slapped a cap on his head. "I'm not going to regret this, am I?"

He looked to the side, and Joi was giving him a little sideways smirk. "Maybe." As they reached the second floor landing, she poked him with an elbow. "If you were anyone else, Steve, instead of a break-up lunch, we'd be having one last roll in the hay to end on a high note."

Taking Joi's hand, Steve pulled her around in front of him. "We're only one floor away. We still could, if you want."

Joi smiled gently, removed his arms, hitched the purse strap higher on her shoulder and continued down the stairs. "Missed your window, Rogers. That option became void once we left the apartment. It's Thai, or nothing."

His stomach growled, and they both laughed. "I guess that makes it unanimous." Joi grabbed his hand as they exited the front door, pulling him toward her Prius. Steve dug his heels in stubbornly. "Do we _have_ to? Even with the seat all the way back, my legs barely fit."

Joi laughed out loud, covering her mouth when it ended in a snort. "Sorry. It's universally known that you don't get _into_ a Prius. You _wear_ it. How about I meet you there? Turn left out of the parking lot. Corner of Surrey and Raintree. It's called Thai One On. You'll love it."

 **After Hours at the Gym**

 **A Week Later**

Bucky pounded on the bag while Steve held it still. Not that it would do any good. Between them, they'd destroyed at least a dozen in the last two months. By accident, of course. They tried to take it easy, but they often got carried away, and BOOM- _POW_! Another one bites the dust. Bucky had joined the gym to give them both someone to work out with who challenged them.

The steady rhythm of his fists against the burlap bag caused Bucky's mind wandered through memories that had been dredge up from behind a wall he'd erected decades ago. Now it seemed that, unless he had something or someone to distract him, they crept into his conscious mind, taunting him with the fact of their existence.

Like Steve with his confession of kissing another woman and enjoying it while dating Joi, Bucky was sure that the telling would make the memories less available. Or at least make his conscience feel a little better. Then again, maybe not.

Steve pushed the bag at Bucky, making him stumble, a smirk turning up one side of his mouth.

Pointing a finger, Bucky mock glared at him. "Watch it, pal."

"It's your own fault. Your mind's not on the game."

Bucky braced himself with his fists in the fighting stance. "Yeah. Sorry." It was obvious that Steve had no idea what was coming. For a moment, Bucky considered not telling him, but this was for his own good.

"Just say it, Buck."

"Why'd you _really_ ditch the plane?"

Steve stopped in mid swing, took a step back and straightened out of his hunched boxing stance, arms at his sides. "You _know_ why. There were bombs designated for major US cities on it."

"We could've found you a safe landing site. Why did you have to play the hero?"

Taking another step back, Steve rubbed the thumb of one hand over the palm of the other, a nervous gesture Bucky had seen him do all this life. Bucky moved away from the bag, removing any physical barrier between his best friend and himself. He injected scorn into his tone. "That's why you wanted to enlist, isn't it? To be the big freakin' hero so people would see you as something other than a performing monkey in tights."

"What's going on here?" Steve's voice was tightly controlled. He was holding on by a thread. If what Joi told Natasha was true, he had to make him act without thinking.

Bucky circled around Steve forcing him to turn to keep him in sight. "You're a troublemaker, Steve. Always have been. You're a punk who got into fights then expected _me_ to bail you out when you couldn't finish the job.

"You were the glue that held the team together. After you were gone, there was no reason for the Howling Commandos to exist so they reassigned us."

Head hanging down, Steve avoided looking at Bucky. "I did what I thought was best, Bucky. If I'd waited more than a few seconds, most of New York would've been destroyed."

"You can't know that. Were you a pilot? No. You have _always_ been hardheaded and stubborn."

Steve snorted humorlessly. "Guilty as charged."

"Had to have your own way." Bucky stood ready to take a punch. Then Steve stepped back, his body relaxing. Bucky had to find something that would make him lash out without thinking. Something to do with his break-up with Joi? No. That wouldn't do it. They'd parted amicably and were still friends. Then, in the blink of an eye, it came to him.

Bucky look away, unable to maintain eye contact. What he was about to say left a sour taste in his mouth, and he hadn't even said a word. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago, Steve. I've been keeping a secret. Never even told Connie."

Back in his fighting stance, Steve's eyebrows were drawn together over his nose the way they did when he was mildly annoyed, whether at the interruption of his routine or Bucky's goading, he'd soon find out. "Just _say_ it, Buck."

"I slept with Peggy."

Steve's mouth dropped open. "What?! When?"

"After you ditched the plane, search parties went out every day for nearly a month looking for the wreckage. Howard even conducted a search of his own without success. The day of your memorial service, Peggy and I went with the rest of the team to eat, drink, and talk about what a great guy you were, and how much we missed you.

"By then, whatever Zola had done to me in that lab had begun to do its job. I grew more muscle mass and definition, faster healing, and increased stamina. Couldn't get drunk to save my life. That night, Peg had a little too much to drink. I took her home, helped her upstairs to her apartment, and made her comfortable on the sofa. Just as I was leaving, she teared up, and that got _me_ going. We sat there for few minutes, hugging and crying. After a while, I sent her to get ready for bed. Then, when I tried to leave, she asked me to stay, just till she fell asleep." He shrugged while adjusting the tapes on his hands. "We kissed; one thing led to another, and…"

Steve held up a hand, and Bucky quit talking. "You're telling me _you_ and Peggy…"

"Had sex. Yes."

Fists jammed into his hips, Steve paced a few steps to the left then to the right. "So it was just the one time then."

"Uh… No." Bucky rubbed the back of his head. "It went on for a while."

"How long is a while?"

Bucky crossed his arms and sighed. "Dugan and I were assigned to assist the SSR in apprehending domestic terrorists. When Howard came under suspicion of gunrunning, Dugan and I secretly assisted her in proving his innocence. It ended just before she was transferred to the LA office, and Dugan and I were reassigned."

"How. Long."

"Less than six months. No one ever knew." Bucky experienced guilt and remorse for what Steve must think of as betrayal, but it had to be done. "We promised not to tell anyone, and I didn't until now. With Peggy gone, I thought you should know." He took a deep breath, and let it out. "Us being together made not having you there a little easier."

~~O~~

Every other thought in Steve's head became low priority at hearing Bucky speak so blithely about being intimate with Peggy, as though it was nothing, and all he could think about was punching his friend in the face. But as he listened to the story, he could see how the two people he'd cared most about in the world would find comfort with each other over their shared loss.

Bucky shifted his feet, making a come-and-get-me motion. "You're angry that I slept with your girl. I get it. So go ahead. Hit me. I know you want to."

Steve slowly closed the distance between them as Bucky steeled himself for the hit. "I don't want to hit you, Buck. And I do understand why you and Peggy fell in…"

"It was just _sex_ , Steve. That was _it_. Yes, we cared about each other, but we weren't in love."

Steve nodded. "I've heard of this. It's called…"

"Friends with benefits." Bucky grinned. "And kids these days think _they_ invented the concept." He eyed Steve, trying to gauge his emotional state. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good." There was a pause then Bucky restated his offer. "Sure you don't want to take a shot? It'll make you feel better. Just one right in the old kis- _oof_!"

Without thinking, Steve drew back his right arm, and swung, connecting solidly with Bucky's midsection. He hadn't put the full force of his strength behind the punch. Still, he knocked Bucky against the side of the boxing ring. Steve rubbed his knuckles while watching Bucky.

Chuckling as he rolled over and got to his feet, Bucky shot a satisfied grin at Steve, and rubbed his stomach. "Guess you aren't as pissed as I thought you'd be."

Steve gave him a lopsided smile. "I was gone, and neither of you were married. What you did in private was no one business but your own."

If Bucky learned nothing else from his little crying jag, and talking to the therapist Natasha insisted he see, it was that you had to process your grief for something that was gone from your life. The same could be said for something you wanted almost more than life itself, and didn't get, even if it was your choice not to have it. Steve wouldn't cry, so the next best thing was letting him pound on someone. As his best friend, that was _his_ job.

They met in the middle of the mat, circling each other like a pair of wolves vying for leadership of the pack. " _I_ got to have something _you_ wanted and couldn't have. Tell me that doesn't make you even a little angry."

The expression on Steve's face changed to hurt combined with anger. "That's enough, Bucky."

Ignoring the warning in his tone, Bucky kept goading. "Why? It's not _my_ fault you couldn't get the job done." Steve's hands curled into his palms. "That's what happened, isn't it?"

Steve's featured hardened into the mask he always wore when taking on back alley bullies. The curls became fists. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? We've known each other since we were kids, Steve. I've seen you at your best, _and_ at your worst. So what was it? _She_ made the offer, but _you_ couldn't complete the sale?"

There was a pause, as if Steve were trying to keep from losing his temper. But that's not what Bucky wanted. Steve had to lose control, lash out, and Bucky preferred it was he who took the brunt of the blows instead of someone less able to stand up to the super-soldier. What else was a best friend for? "Maybe _you_ offered, and she turned you down."

" _Why_ are you doing this?"

Bucky ignored the note of annoyance in Steve's voice. "Or you turned her down because you were afraid she'd know it was your first time."

Suddenly, waves of aggression flowed off of Steve. His eyes narrowed dangerously, biceps flexing. " _Stop_. I mean it, Bucky. Not another word."

Steve was almost there. All he needed was one more solid push. "Or _what_? You'll hit me again? Not so tough without your shield, are you? Throwing around love taps instead of a real punch." Though they were alone, he raised his voice, mocking his early war efforts. "Gather 'round, everyone! Captain America's going to give us a show! Bring on Hitler and the chorus girls! And don't forget to buy those war bonds, folks."

A warning growl came from Steve's throat, an act of aggression that signaled imminent attack. Bucky turned his back, and a moment later, he was smacked across the room into the padded wall so hard, it knocked the breath out of him. He rolled to his feet, and charged Steve. They met at the edge of the mat, and just as Steve swung at the side of his head, Bucky slammed into his midsection, digging in his feet, and pushing Steve backwards into the row of hanging bags.

They continued on past to the wall, knocking over a rack of exercise balls. They were pushed out of the way as the men wrestled on the floor, rolling back and forth, neither able to get the upper hand. They knocked over a trash can, a couple of benches and the laundry bin, scattering dirty towels across the floor.

Bucky got a knee between them and pushed Steve away just far enough so he could gain to his feet and gets his hands up in preparation for the next attack.

~~O~~

The first sign that there was a problem wasn't something Jax Redwood saw, but something he heard: breaking glass. The nearer he drew to the gym's entrance, the clearer the sounds of fighting became. The Indian leaning on its kickstand near the building, and the SUV in the lot gave Jax the identities of those inside. Steve Rogers and his friend, James Barnes were the only two members to whom he'd given keys and permission to use the facilities after hours.

The men were best friends. Why would they be fighting? Jax let himself in, pocketing the keys as he headed for the main workout area. He stopped in the doorway, staring at the carnage. Wasn't the first time it happened, won't be the last, but this was the worst it had ever been. The boxing ring was destroyed. It would need replacing, not just repaired. There were holes in the walls, most of the equipment was ruined. The entire gym would have to be redone.

In the office, he pulled out the cards the men had filled out when they joined. Strangely enough, they'd both put down the same name and number as an emergency contact. Jax took out his cell phone and dialed. "Jax Redwood here, ma'am. There's an incident goin' on here at the gym… Of course… Yes. Thank you… No, I haven't called the police… Thought I'd go a different route seeing as one of 'em's Captain America."

Jax went to the vending area, unlocked the soda machine, took out one bottle, locked the machine again, and returned to the office. Twisting off the top, he drank from the bottle while watching through the window as the two men went at it.

Barnes jumped up to grab onto a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling that had formerly held the heavy punching bags. Rogers dived into a roll, and came up with one of the metal free weights which he threw like a Frisbee then ran after it. Barnes swung out of the way and the weight smashed into the glass front of a display cabinet. His legs wrapped around Rogers' neck, he let go of the chains and leaned back while twisting his entire body, sending Rogers flying across the room to land among the shattered remains of the ring.

Rogers sorted himself out before Barnes reached him, leading with a roundhouse punch that would've flattened the world heavyweight title holder in the first round. Barnes barely noticed. He turned into the spin, hitting Rogers on the ribs with a back fist.

Huffing, Jax went to answer the front door buzzer. He led his guest to the gym so she could see the destruction for herself. She sighed in the manner of one who'd seen it all before. Despite the hour, the Petit redhead was fully put together. Even her make-up was flawless.

She extended her hand. "Natasha Romanoff. What's the damages?"

"Jax Redwood. Pleasure, ma'am, though not under these circumstances." He waved her to a seat, and sat behind the desk. "The ring alone cost over five grand and that's just the basic model. I can give you a ballpark figure, but that's all it would be. I'll know more when the insurance adjuster gets here."

"You haven't called them yet?"

"No, ma'am. It's a tad early in the morning for those guys. Besides, they only pay for normal stuff like a fire, vandalism, acts of God, things like that." Jax gestured in the direction of the gym where the sounds of fighting could still be heard. " _That_ is not normal."

Abruptly, the clash and crash of fighting stopped.

Natasha plucked a pen from the desk with her left hand, and a pad with the right. "No need to involve the insurance company, Mr. Redwood. I'm going to put money in this account," she handed him a credit card. "Buy whatever you need to make repairs, including any upgrades you've been wanting to make and haven't been able to afford. If you need more money, call me. Here's the address of a gym where your members can work out until the repairs are complete. Just have them tell the receptionist 'Waldo sent me'."

She handed him the pad, and left before he could say another word.

~~O~~

For the most part, Steve and Bucky were evenly matched physically. But something had come over his friend when the fight started in earnest. He used moves that were _not_ taught in the military. More acrobatic with hints of martial arts, reminding Steve of the times he'd watched Natasha working out with her partner, Clint Barton.

At times, Bucky had seemed ferocious. As if his goal wasn't to win the fight, but to stop _Steve_ from coming out on top.

Then, Steve got lucky when he was thrown against the far wall. He pushed off, and ran toward Bucky, his friend standing his ground as he'd done before. Then, when Bucky sidestepped, Steve was ready. He flipped over, grabbing the shoulders of Bucky's shirt at the apex. He landed, and spun on his right foot, sending Bucky through the air to slam face first into the padded wall next to the broken display case.

As he struggled to his hands and knees, Steve pressed his advantage. He rushed to Bucky, using his foot to flip him onto his back against the wall, planting that same foot in the middle of his chest to hold him in place.

Bucky shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand over his left eye. He dropped that hand to the floor using it to push himself upright, letting his head fall back so he was now looking up at Steve. "What the hell'd you do _that_ for?"

Relieved that Bucky sounded more like himself, Steve removed his foot, leaned against the wall, and slid down next to him. " _You_ tell _me_ , Buck. _You_ started it."

Both were panting, their clothes soaked with sweat. Bucky brought both knees up and rested his arms on them. He pushed a hand through his wet hair, chuckling humorlessly. "Believe it or not, I'm helping you get over your PTSD."

"PTSD?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. In your case, the trauma was suddenly finding yourself seventy years in the future. Getting you mad enough to fight and mean it was a way for you to work off the anger and grief."

Steve rubbed the back of his head and stretched his neck. "So beating the crap out of me was supposed to be a _kindness_?"

They looked at each other, and Bucky laughed. "Yeah. Did it work?"

"Let's give it a few days." Steve examined the scrapes on his knuckles. "You didn't really sleep with Peggy, did you?"

Again, Bucky rubbed above his left eye. What was it about that area that bugged him?

"No. Just said I did to get you steamed." He examined a bruise on his right bicep.

Relieved, Steve muttered, "Good."

"Why good?" Bucky asked, curious. Steve looked away, and his friend pounced on it, his eyes going wide with glee. "Did you and she…" When Steve still didn't answer, Bucky latched onto his inability to control his embarrassment. "You _did_!"

Movement at the entrance saved Steve from responding. He pointed his chin. "We're in for it now."

~~O~~

Natasha picked her way through the debris scattered over the floor to where Steve and Bucky were sitting with their backs against the wall. Each sported a number of bruises, scrapes and contusions that would go away in less than a week. They looked up at her with near identical expressions of guilt and sheepish remorse as she passed them each a bottle of water she's taken from the cooler by the locker room. They twisted the tops off, tapped the bottles together and took a long drink.

Looking from one to the other, she waited for them to speak, but they stayed silent. Gesturing at the carnage, she stated angrily, " _This_ is why we can't have nice things. What the _hell_ got into you two?"

Bucky and Steve looked at each other, then at her. "Uh…"

"You should be ashamed of yourselves. Get _up_." Obediently, the men jumped to their feet, both falling back on military protocol by going into parade rest, the bottles still in their hands. "I've paid the damages and then some. Now get to work cleaning up the mess."

They started to protest, snapping their mouths shut at her glare. Together they responded, "Yes, ma'am."

Natasha raked them with one last death glare, and turned to go. "By the way, you're both grounded."

They both sighed with resignation. "Yes, ma'am."

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 16**

The front door slammed behind Natasha. Bucky winced. As the man she was living with, he would bear the brunt of her anger when he got home. "Man, is she _pissed_."

Steve faced him, confused. "How does she plan on grounding us?"

"Don't know. But it won't be pretty." Bucky clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "How you doing?"

"Like I said, we'll see." Steve tossed the empty bottle toward the recycle bin, one of the few items that hadn't been damaged or overturned. "So you didn't mean anything you said? It was all just to get me to talk about my feelings?"

"Peggy and I worked at the SSR together, and were friends. Nothing more. Some of the other stuff…" Bucky thought it over, waggling his hand. A second later, he was on the floor with Steve standing over him rubbing the knuckles of his right hand, looking satisfied.

"You're right, Buck. I _do_ feel better."

Steve strode away leaving him on his back, the area around his right eye throbbing. He'd be sporting a black eye by the time he got home, whenever that was. Getting to his feet, Bucky went to the locker room to make a few calls, extracting promises from friends and family to help with the clean-up… once they stopped laughing.

~~O~~

Though she'd given the appearance of being furious with Bucky and Steve, Natasha was secretly relieved. Bucky had removed himself from the house long enough for the cameras to be installed. They would only record when she wasn't there, and at night when she was asleep. Her contact had already sent her the link that would give her full control of the system. He'd also protected the feeds from being hacked. If a sweeper came looking for the equipment, it would immediately go dormant, and the only way to know they were there would be a visual inspection.

If Bucky left the house during the night while she was sleeping, the alarm would wake her so she could follow him, or if need be, stop him.

Of equal importance, if not more, Steve appeared less stressed than he had been for months before his break-up with Joi. Maybe this fight was just what he needed to get some of his frustration out. She'd tried to get him to talk to a therapist, as had Joi, with no success. It amazed her that Bucky readily accepted the suggestion of therapy, while Steve, the one she thought would be more open to it, did not.

Natasha let herself in the house, laid her wallet on the kitchen counter, and started the coffeemaker. She took out leftovers from the night before, transferred a portion to a plate, and placed it in the microwave. The coffee and food were done at the same time.

The sun was shining with a cold wind blowing. She wanted to sit on the patio, but settled for the small table she'd placed by the window looking into the back yard. When she was done, the dishes went into the sink, and Natasha climbed to the second floor, changed into her pajamas, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got into bed, falling asleep within moments.

Hours later, she felt the bed shift as Bucky got in with her. She rolled over to snuggle against his side. He smelled clean and fresh, his hair damp from the shower. They sighed together, and were soon asleep.

 **The Gym**

 **Two Weeks Later**

Over the next couple of weeks, Bucky and Steve helped with the renovations at the gym. The contractor was glad to have them, mostly because of their incredible strength and stamina. He put them to work moving the heavy items for the workers, and pitching in here and there when it came time for hammering and holding heavy objects in place.

The two super-soldiers footed the bill for the meals from their own pockets, which was only fair.

The day arrived for Natasha's trip to Russia, and though she avoided visiting the gym while the men were working, she wanted to say good-bye to Bucky before she left.

Jax was hunched over the desk with the contractor going over blueprints when she arrived dressed for traveling in slacks, boots, a soft sweater. Standing in the entrance, she scanned the room, finding Bucky on the far end of the room

With a smile, she pulled off her hat, gloves, scarf and coat, and laid them on a chair next to the water fountain. She saw Bucky turn around when his companion tapped him on the shoulder, and waved.

~~O~~

Holding the display cabinet against the wall while Brad marked the placement, Bucky let his mind wander to the night he and Steve had trashed the place. He only remembered the beginning and the end of the fight. Nothing from the middle. Not even after Steve described what happened, and the moves he used. He couldn't fathom why he was having memory lapses, or why no one had mentioned them before. Natasha had said something about him going out in the middle of the night, but nothing recently. Connie never said anything, so maybe it was a new aberration.

"Whoa, dude!"

"Oh, sorry, Brad. We done?"

His companion wasn't looking at him or even listening. He slapped Bucky on the back and pointed. "Who's _that_?"

Bucky looked where Brad was staring. Natasha was standing in the entrance. She saw him and waved. One by one, the men stopped working to watch her, whispering to each other, and speculating as to who she was here to see.

Bucky set the cabinet on the floor, took off his hard hat, pushed a hand through his hair, and put it back on. "My inamorata."

"You have a _girlfriend_?" Taken aback, Brad slapped him on the arm with the back of his hand. "Dude! You're _how_ old?"

"Just turned ninety-five."

"And she's…?"

A smirk turned up one side of Bucky's mouth. "Twenty-seven." Bucky left Brad staring with his mouth open, looking like a big mouth bass gasping for air. "Be right back."

Instead of going around, Bucky jumped over the stacks of supplies, dodged the crew members, and finished off by diving over the last stack of materials, rolling and coming to his feet in front of Natasha. He was showing off for the crew, and she knew it.

She returned his smile as he approached. "Hi."

He leaned down to give her a quick kiss. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm going out of town a few days early, and came to say good-bye."

"How long will you be gone?"

One shoulder shrugged. "Uncertain. I'll call you in a few days. Behave while I'm gone." She glanced over his shoulder. "We're being watched."

"No. _You're_ being watched, and _I_ just happen to be in the way."

A wicked smile turned up the corners of her mouth as Natasha wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him into a hot and steamy kiss while pressing her curvy body against his with a predictable result. Bucky's hands settled on her waist, his fingers digging in. They parted slowly, looking into each other's eyes. Her grin turned into a sultry smirk. "That'll give them something to talk about when I'm gone." She stepped out of his arms, and picked up her coat. Over her shoulder, and just loud enough for the men to hear, she purred, " _Do svidaniya,_ _lyubimaya_."

The front door closed behind her moments later, and when Bucky turned around to go back to work, his co-workers were standing there watching, their eyes wide. All but Steve who stood at the back of the group shaking his head. One of the guys in front tucked his thumbs in his belt. " _That's_ your girlfriend?"

" _Live-in_ girlfriend."

"Dude," Brad addressed the guys as dude, and the women as dudette, "what language was that?"

Bucky got a drink from the cooler on the table, opened it and swigged some of it down before responding in an offhand tone. "Russian."

Another guy, shorter than Brad with a bald head and a tattoo on each forearm, whistled. "You got a _Russian_ girlfriend, Barnes? Oh, man, that is so _cool_."

The foreman came out of the office, taking in the scene with a scowl. "I'm not paying you to stand around gossiping, ladies. Back to work."

Steve hung back as the others resumed their work. "You're their idol now."

Bucky shrugged, the smug grin hanging on. "You could be too, if you hadn't broken up with Joi."

"We've been over this, Buck. It was a mutual decision."

"That's what _she_ said too."

His friend huffed at him. "Then why are you busting my chops over it?"

They moved off toward the work area. "Carolyn's disappointed, to say the least. And not just because her daughter was dating Captain America. Joi turns thirty soon. Serenity is the youngest and the only one of her kids who's married, with no sign of kids coming anytime soon. Chase isn't dating anyone seriously, and neither is Justin. She's watching her chances for grandchildren slip away."

Steve pulled him to a stop, his expression serious as he leaned close to whisper, "I'm not even sure I can _have_ kids, Buck. What if…"

"Ask the doctors, Steve. It's a simple test." Bucky lowered his voice even more. "And if you need help producing a specimen, they can provide… inspiration."

Embarrassed at the turn in the conversation, Steve backed up. "I'll think about it. Just don't tell _anyone_."

Steve turned away, but not before Bucky saw something in his eyes that looked like guilt, and just that quick, he turned serious. "Are you seeing someone else already, Steve? Was that the reason for the split? Did you cheat on Joi with the woman you kissed?"

"No. I… No." He faced Bucky again. "Can we talk about this later?"

 **Nocturnal Diversion Studios**

Exiting the studio's front door, Joi walked to the corner, and checked for cameras, relieved to finally be out from under constant scrutiny, at least for a while. When she first heard about _Chef vs. Chef_ , she never thought she'd be accepted. Then when she was, the excitement and glamour of working on television made her jittery. She couldn't be herself here because someone was always watching and recording whatever went on. And up until today, except for that one time, she tried not to lock horns with Frank Vitale. No sense in giving the director ammunition, and causing even more animosity on the set. Then today, he just got on her last nerve.

The front door opened and closed, but she paid it no mind until a voice spoke to her. "I see you found my hiding place."

Her shoulders tensed, "I was here first, Vitale. Scram."

"Scram? After all I've done for you?"

She glared at him, but didn't rise to his bait. Instead, she softened her tone. "Would you please _leave_? I'm not in the mood to listen to your crap right now."

Frank's shoes crunched on the gravel, and suddenly Joi felt warmth at her back. He gently wrapped a hand around her upper arm, and turned her to face him. "Are you still angry because I kissed you?"

"I'm not angry." _I am_ _so_ _not angry_. Joi calmly yet firmly removed his hand. "Why did you do it?"

Both hands came up, and he gently held onto her biceps. The look in his eyes changed, softening. She wanted to pull away, but felt drawn to him even more. "It was the only way I could shut you up." He leaned forward until their lips were mere inches apart. "This time, it's because I want to."

Joi was unable to resist as his lips found hers. His tongue teased, startling her into opening her mouth, and he wasted no time using it to his advantage. He reached inside her unbuttoned coat, his big hands wrapping around her ribs to hold her against him. She gripped the material of his coat, holding on tight.

When she could no longer handle the sensations, Joi pressed her palms against his shoulders and pushed. They stared at each other for the space of several heartbeats, panting.

Then, he smiled. "I've been wanting to do that again."

"Me too." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her eyes came up to meet his with a sheepish smile. Frank licked his lips as if he'd tasted a particularly succulent treat, and came in for another kiss, and she let him, but just for a few moments. His arms gentled as they parted, urging her to lay her head on his shoulder.

Her phone beeped, telling her their break was almost over. She stepped back until his hands fell away, holding his gaze for a few tense seconds before sweeping past him into the building without looking back.

~~O~~

Amalie and Liam ducked around the corner when Joi crossed the lobby to the ladies' room. The AD slapped the cameraman on the shoulder. "Told you we'd get something good if we followed them."

Liam shook his head with a rueful grin. "That's why you get paid the big bucks." He pulled his head back when Frank came past their hiding place, and into the men's room. "What if they're both married or in a relationship? Aren't you concerned about causing a double break-up?'

"I do my homework, Liam. Both are recently unattached." Amalie nodded, and they returned to the studio the back way. "Besides, we won't use it unless we have to. So far, they've been quite accommodating in providing plenty of drama to keep the show interesting."

"Okay. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do, Liam. I do."

 **Kafe Siniy**

 **St. Petersburg, Russia**

 **Three Days Later**

The terms of Natasha's mission had changed somewhat. Instead of luring the head of the consortium moving the tanks, Coulson told her to get his name, and when the next shipment was due, and the strike teams would handle it from there. And she was fine with that. After sitting in the café at the appointed time for the third day in a row, she was ready for this op to be over so she could go home to Bucky.

Yesterday, her phone had let her know that Bucky had left the house around two in the morning eastern time. Cursing herself for not putting an alternate plan into place for when she wasn't there, all Natasha could do was watch as he closed the front door without locking it, get in the SUV and drive away. She was about to call Steve when a man approached her, speaking the code phrase under his breath. Her response was accepted. When she motioned for him to follow her to the table, she felt the sharp jab of a silencer in her back.

Per his silent instructions, Natasha retrieved her coat, putting it on after he'd searched it for weapons. The man had his orders, of course. But he must think her stupid to have brought weapons when she'd been instructed not to with the punishment for disobedience left unsaid.

He led her down an alley to where a van with blacked out window waited. As expected, she fought being put inside. Just enough to convince them that she'd tried her best to get away. The transponder inserted under the skin of her forearm was undetectable until activated. She was tied up, blindfolded, and thrown in the back of the van. The doors slammed, and the driver took off at the other man's command.

Eventually, they came to a stop near a train station. By Natasha's internal clock, the drive had taken about thirty minutes. They must have been near a hub because she heard the distinctive click-clack of trains being switched from one track to the other.

The doors opened, and the first man slung her over his shoulder. She swayed with the rhythm of his long strides, and soon, the mournful sounds of the train horns had been muffled. He carried her up several flights of stairs and set her down. Another man untied her hands, and together, they removed her coat, heels, and the blindfold. Because it was expected, she attempted to escape, and was caught before she reached the stairs.

She was dragged down a long hallway and forced to sit in a chair while her wrists were tied so she could barely move. Standing in front of her already gloating, was a silver-haired man wearing the uniform of the Russian Army. Internally, she grinned. Time for the interrogation to begin.

To assert his dominance, the soldier swaggered over, working the intimidation angle. One of his cronies handed him a phone. Probably displaying her vital statistics, though only those that were important for this mission. "No need to ask who you are. Your reputation precedes you, Black Widow."

"The you have me at a disadvantage, General." She tugged at her bonds. "In more ways than one."

A smug grin crossed his fleshy features. "Agreed. At the very least, you should know who will be the architect of your demise, if I don't like your answers to my questions. My name is Georgi Luchkov, and you are going to tell me everything you know about our operation."

 **Several Hours Later**

Holding a cell phone to her ear, Natasha paced in the rear of the quinjet while the strike team pretended not to listen. She had left three voice mails, and Bucky had yet to return any of them. Annoyed, and not shy about showing it, she kicked the backpack on the floor, muttering an oath to go along with it.

To keep herself busy, she picked up the abused backpack, and let herself into the latrine to change clothes. Fury's orders were specific: Do whatever she had to in order to secure Dr. Banner's assistance with locating the Tesseract.

Natasha changed into a cotton blouse and skirt more suited to the hot, dry air in India, and had just put the finishing touches on her make-up when her phone rang. She snatched it up and hit answer. "James!"

" _Is something wrong, Tasha?_ "

She fell back on her training to keep her voice light. "Just wanted to let you know I may be gone longer than expected. My boss handed me a new mission."

" _Oh? Where're you headed this time? Timbuktu? Outer Mongolia? Disney World?_ "

"Calcutta." Natasha had already worked out how much info to give Bucky. She changed the tone of her voice to let him know it was serious. "There's something I need you to do for me, and you can't ask why."

In the background, she heard the sounds of the wind telling her he'd stepped outside. It abruptly cut off when he got into the SUV, and closed the door. " _Tasha…_ "

"Please _listen_ , and don't interrupt. I need you and your family to stay close to home. Do _not_ leave the state, and absolutely _do not_ travel outside the US until you hear from me or Steve. Understood?"

" _Does this have anything to do with why he lit out of here like his ass was on fire?_ "

She wanted to tell him everything. Not just the known variables, but also what she suspected might happen in the near future, but she couldn't. "Can't say. Promise you'll do it." He hesitated, and she wanted to scream at him, but that would only make it all worse. "Please, Bucky. For me?"

" _Yes, of course. What should I tell them?_ "

"Make something up." Someone knocked on the door, and a male voice told her they would be landing soon. "I have to go. Stay safe."

Natasha shut the phone down, shoved it in the pocket of her skirt, grabbed her backpack and left the latrine to join the strike team, listening with only half of her attention as Lystrom gave last minute instructions.

As long as the ship was cloaked, they wouldn't have to worry about being shot out of the sky as they came in for a landing outside a rundown shack. While Lystrom deployed his squad, Natasha checked out the interior, and set up for the meeting with the world's foremost authority on Gamma radiation, Dr. Bruce Banner.

It took some fast talking, but eventually, she persuaded Banner to help find Loki and the Tesseract.

What neither of them knew was that would be the closest thing to a normal exchange as they would have for several days. And in that time, Natasha would nearly lose her life on more than one occasion. They all would. Her best friend would be brought back from the nightmare he'd been sucked into, and they would band together under the Avengers Initiative with Steve, Tony Stark, Thor, and Clint to save the world from an alien invasion.

Some would hail them as heroes, while others would blame them for the destruction wrought on Manhattan. But, as was pointed out on numerous occasions, if the Avengers hadn't been there, the world would've fallen to the rule of Thor's brother, Loki, and his Chitauri allies. The detractors would grant that one concession. However, Natasha had the feeling they hadn't heard the last of it.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

The front door opened, and Carolyn barreled into the living room. Her husband headed for the kitchen with several bags of groceries, set them on the counter, and went back for more.

Bucky was standing behind the sofa, with Joi, Serenity and Justin taking up all but one space in front of him. Jacob, Steven James, Olivia, and her family, were on the floor, with Gracie asleep on a blanket, her arms wrapped around a stuffed bunny that Natasha had given her for Christmas. Serenity's husband was in one of the upstairs bedrooms on a conference call, and the kids were running around in the back yard. Only the adults had any idea what was going on.

Carolyn hugged her father tight. "What's happening? Is what they're saying on the news true?"

"The news agencies are doing live feeds. Manhattan is a disaster area." He pointed at the television showing alien ships coming out of the sky. They were being attacked by Iron Man, the Hulk, the military, and police.

"Is this why Martin had to cancel his business trip? How did you know?" Bucky shrugged, his shoulders tense. "Dad?"

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. "I didn't. One of my government sources gave me a heads-up without knowing the full details." One hand came out of his pocket, gesturing at the television. The video wasn't clear, but it looked like Iron Man had just flown into the mouth of one of the long, segmented ships that were being called Leviathans. "Of all the scenarios I invented in my head, nothing even came close to this."

Martin joined them. "We brought food, snacks, and drinks." He watched the carnage on the screen. A map of Manhattan was displayed in one corner with flashing red dots showing that the majority of the destruction was confined to Midtown. "I had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow just off of Times Square. Looks like it'll be indefinitely postponed."

Chase came from the other room carrying the tools of his IT trade. "I made a few calls, Gramps. Friends in New York and New Jersey. It's for real. Aliens are coming through a vortex over Manhattan. Didn't know any more details than what we're getting. They're just closer to the action."

The scene changed, and they were presented with a shaky view of three people on the ground, while the news reporter attempted to narrate what they were seeing. The one dressed in red, white and blue, and wielding a round shield, held a quick conversation with the other two then hurried away, running over the tops of cars, and taking great leaps into the air. The man's identity was obvious to anyone who hadn't been living in a cave for the last year: Captain America. Joi gasped when he was thrown through the air by an explosion, but didn't say a word.

The two left behind, a man and woman, both dressed in black, rescued people trapped in a bus then returned to the fighting. The woman fired a pair of hand guns to keep the aliens distracted. The man came up beside her, and to everyone's surprise, employed the use of a bow and arrow with which to fight this new, and dangerous enemy.

Gracie woke up and crawled into her mother's lap, watching the events with fascination. "Wook, mama. Tasha."

Nicole hugged her daughter close. "What, honey?"

The little girl pointed. "Tasha on TV."

"That can't be your Aunt Tasha, sweetie. She's working."

Now that Gracie had pointed it out, Bucky did see a resemblance, but didn't give it credence. "She's in Calcutta. That's more than twelve thousand miles from New York."

Chase hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. "Are you recording this, Gramps?"

"Yes. Why?"

The young man tugged at his upper lip. "No reason. I'm gonna use your computer."

Distracted, Bucky just nodded, and Chase disappeared into his grandfather's den.

~~O~~

With the door closed, Chase booted up his grandfather's computer, typed in a few commands, and hit enter. While that was working, he retrieved his bag, and took out an external drive, attaching it to the desktop with quick, efficient movements. A few more commands brought up the contents of the DVR, and downloaded it to the external drive.

He booted up his laptop, and switched the drive over. Using software he'd tweaked himself, Chase accessed the portion of the video where Gracie said she'd seen Natasha, and ran it through the video enhancement program. Because it would take a while, he returned to the living room. His family had already started eating, and when he checked the time, he found he'd been gone longer than he thought. The worst part was that no one seemed to have missed him. Or so he thought. Justin caught his eye, and Chase nodded toward the den.

Chase helped himself to a sandwich, chips and a drink, and went back to the den. Justin slipped into the room before the door closed. "What's up, bro? Find something?"

"'Bout to find out." Chase took a bite of sandwich, and chewed while he called up the program. The video had cleared up enough to see that the man carrying the shield was indeed Steve. They didn't recognize the shorter man with the bow and quiver. However, as they watched, the woman's face cleared enough that there was no doubt as to her identity.

The brothers shared a glance, and without consulting his twin, Justin went out to the living room. Some of the family members had wandered out to the back yard, out of boredom or just for the exercise.

Justin touched Bucky on the arm. "Gramps, could you give us a hand?"

"I don't know anything about computers."

The young man huffed. "My goofball twin knocked something behind the enormous wooden desk of yours, and we need your help to move it."

~~O~~

Bucky looked at his grandson and saw his hands signing. Because everyone was glued to the screen, he nodded once, and the two men quietly left the room. Once the door closed behind him, Chase vacated the chair, and Bucky slid into it. "Why all the cloak and dagger, guys?"

Chase had the laptop partially closed. "Prepare for a shock, Gramps."

Annoyed, Bucky crossed his arms. "Just _show_ me."

Reaching past his grandfather, Chase started the cleaned up video and stood back.

The video showed a woman fighting aliens. Using some hard-core fighting skills, she relieved one alien of his energy weapon, and used it to take out several more. Then Steve, dressed as Captain America, joined her. They spoke for a moment then she got a running start, jumped on the trunk of a demolished car and onto Steve's shield. Steve propelled the woman into the air. She grabbed onto one of the "sleds" the aliens were flying as it went over her head, and was gone in seconds.

Without being asked, Chase reversed the recording and zoomed in on the face of the woman hanging off the back of the sled. Bucky's mouth dropped open. "Natasha."

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 17**

Stunned, Bucky glanced from the frozen image on the screen to the framed photos of Natasha and himself from the exhibit dedication, comparing the woman he loved to the one fighting aliens in New York. With everything he knew, and didn't know, about her, seeing her this way was a shock. Though the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense. The bits and pieces of her life she'd shared with him fell into place one by one until the only part of the picture he couldn't see was the future. He wanted her in his life for always, and she should know that he loved all of her.

Bucky cleared his throat. "Chase, I need you to get me everything you can find on something called the Red Room. Do whatever you have to in order to get it. If you need contacts, I can provide a few. It may have been based in Stalingrad." He vacated the chair, and Chase took his place. "Also, anything you can find on…" he paused for a breath. Did he really want to go there? He knew she would understand. "…Natasha Romanoff."

"Sure, Gramps." His boys were smart. Bucky didn't have to tell them not to talk about this to anyone.

"Thanks." He placed a hand on their shoulders. "I love you guys."

Justin, who until now had been silent, smiled back. "We love you too, Gramps."

~~O~~

With Gramps out of the way, Chase sent his twin out as well so he could work without distractions, and because he would be doing a few things that weren't exactly legal. That would give his family deniability, just in case.

He spent the next hour making inquiries, and waiting for the answers. Because it might take a while, he decided to rejoin the family. Maybe see if he could interest them in playing a game instead of watching the invasion. As he turned to go, a small spark of light where there'd not been one before caught his eye. Grabbing a chair, he climbed up to examine the wall around the ceiling vent. Using a penlight, he peered inside and found a small wireless camera, currently inactive.

Chase left it there so whoever installed it wouldn't know he'd found it. If there was one, the possibility existed that there could be others.

Letting himself out of the den, he made cursory search of the first floor rooms, and found what he suspected were more in all the rooms except the kitchen and bathroom. The living room couldn't be checked while occupied, but it was a safe bet there was at least one. He headed for the second floor. Collin, Serenity's husband, was just coming down. He too was deaf, and Chase greeted him using ASL. _How's it hanging, Collin?_

 _Same as always._ He pointed at the group in the living room. _What's going on?_

Pursing his lips, Chase told him _Would you believe an alien invasion in New York?_

 _That's what my college roommate was saying. He lives in Elizabeth, New Jersey. The National Guard came knocking while we were on the call. Told him he had to evacuate, and it wasn't optional._

 _Where to?_

Collin shrugged, and walked past him to the kitchen for a sandwich while Chase continued up to the second floor. He started in his grandfather's bedroom. A few minutes later, he found two more cameras, and again, there was none in the bathroom.

The only rooms without a camera were the closets, kitchen, and bathrooms, though he had yet to check the garage. But since Gramps only used it for storage, he didn't think it likely any had been placed there.

All were dormant at the moment. And with no idea under what circumstances they were activated, Chase decided to leave them alone. For now. All but the one in his grandfather's bedroom.

He carefully pried the cover off the vent and removed the camera. Turning it over, he removed the power source and deactivated the transmitter so it would appear to have gone dead. Taking out his phone, Chase made a call to one of his shadier friends. "Ollie? Chase… Yeah, we're watching it too, but that's not why I'm calling. I need you to find out who purchased a wireless spycam, and use all your resources… That's confidential for now. Ready for the serial number?"

He rattled off a series of numbers, hit end, and returned to the first floor for another sandwich and a drink, sitting at the counter to eat. The last of the potato salad had been consumed when his phone rang. "That was fast… Ah… So who… Sonofa…" Chase's eyes narrowed in resentment. "Yeah, you could say that… Thanks… I already told you I'm _not_ introducing you to my sister… She doesn't believe in interspecies dating… Good- _bye_ , Ollie."

Now that he had a name, all Chase needed was to confront the person responsible for spying on Gramps. For now, he'd keep it to himself. He wouldn't even tell his twin. Give the person a chance to explain before reporting to the authorities. Though, if what he suspected was true, doing so would be futile. Still, he had to protect his family no matter what.

 **Manhattan**

 **Post-Invasion**

 **Shawarma Palace**

The team sat around the table eating, too tired to engage in even the most mundane small talk. What was there to talk about anyway? They'd just fended off an alien invasion, and kept New York from becoming a nuclear wasteland.

Natasha was so far beyond exhausted she hadn't bothered to take off her gloves. She sipped her drink, set it out of the way, and leaned back. Clint had one leg resting on the seat of her chair. To tweak him, she rested her foot on the edge of his chair where he'd splayed his legs. He gave her a mock scowl, and took another bite of shawarma.

To her left, Steve rested his head in one hand while he chewed. Bruce looked more tired than any of them, with good reason, and Thor the least. The demi-god took a huge bite of his shawarma, his third, and followed it with the last of his drink. He waved the empty cup in the air, and the owner rushed to refill it for him.

Despite being so close to the action, the Shawarma Palace had sustained less damage than some of the surrounding structures. And because they were kind enough to provide the team with food, Stark offered to rebuild their restaurant, whether here or at another location. Whatever they wanted.

As for what Natasha wanted… They still had to make their reports to Fury and the council. If not for that, she would now be sound asleep in the arms of the man she loved. Oh, yeah. She came to the realization that she was in love with James the moment she shoved Loki's scepter into the force field surrounding the Tesseract. Why the action would bring her to that conclusion, she couldn't say.

She nudged Clint's foot out of the way, and headed for the bathroom, thankful that it still worked. While she was washing her hands, her phone vibrated against her hip. How it had survived the battle with so little damage, she couldn't say. Just dumb luck, maybe.

The text was an alert letting Natasha know that someone was performing a background check on her. She had a hunch who it was. It only surprised her that it had taken this long.

When she returned to the table, Stark was talking to the owners who insisted the Avengers take extras with them. Arguing did no good, so they all gave in without a fuss.

As they left through the smashed front entrance, the owner's wife handed them each a full disposable cup, and a t-shirt with the name of the restaurant on the front, smiling as they stepped over and around the debris in the doorway.

Natasha slipped on a slab of concrete that wasn't nearly as stable as it looked, and Thor caught her. She gave the Asgardian a tired smile of appreciation, and they continued on toward the downed quinjet.

Clint and Stark did as few repairs as needed to get it going then Clint took the pilot's seat with Stark sitting in as co-pilot, and soon they were in the air.

Natasha lay down in the back, and dozed off. She came to when the quinjet landed on the helicarrier with a thump. The hatch opened, and they stepped out onto the deck. Clint stopped to watch the repairs being made to the engine, remorse and more in his expression. She wrapped her hand around his bicep, and reluctantly, he followed her, and the others inside. It was time to face the music. And though she wanted to be with James, Natasha would stand by her best friend as long as he needed her. During dinner, Clint had called his wife to let her know he was alright, but didn't know when he'd be home. Natasha received a call from her a few minutes later, and assured Laura that she would look after Clint.

It took a few days, but eventually, Clint was allowed to return home on administrative leave until the inquiry was complete. On the way, he dropped Natasha off at the private airport they used in D.C.

Once in the air, she stepped into the back for privacy to make a phone call. "Hello, James."

" _Hey! You coming home?_ "

Though she knew he was genuinely happy to get her call, there was something in his voice she couldn't identify. She let a smile show in her voice. "I'm on the way. Couple of hours, maybe. I'll see you soon."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Natasha parked the car next to Bucky's SUV, turned off the engine, and sat there for a moment, gathering her strength and poise around her like a cloak. The fight with the Chitauri had shaken them all, and not just because the world now had proof that there was life on other worlds, and some of it was hostile.

She got out, retrieved her bags from the back seat, and went inside. It was evening, and the sun was just going down. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the late breakfast she had with Clint. Thor returned to Asgard with Loki, and Bruce and Tony were at Stark tower resting up for their next project. Steve had taken off for home. She didn't know whether to be glad Bruce decided to stay in the US instead of returning to Calcutta. Didn't really matter because it was his choice.

Standing in the foyer, the near silence was puzzling. Normally, James was there to greet her the second she stepped through the door. She carried the bags upstairs, setting them in the arm chair in the corner, too tired to unpack. Wherever he was, he would find her soon enough. That reminded her that she hadn't checked the video feeds in almost a week. More important matters had taken its place.

A bath sounded heavenly, giving her concerns over Bucky's late night excursions a lower priority for the moment.

Natasha went into the bathroom, and stopped. Candles were lit, the tub was filled with hot water and bubbles, and a glass of her favorite wine waited on the counter. James really was a sweet man.

Stripping off her clothes, she lowered herself into the hot, scented water with a sigh. She reached for the wine, and closed her eyes as she sipped the dark red liquid.

By the time the water cooled off, James hadn't made an appearance. Natasha let the water out, stepped onto the mat, wrapped a towel around her, and returned to the bedroom. A pair of pajamas were laid out on the foot of the bed. She dressed, and carried the wine glass down to the kitchen.

She was standing with the refrigerator door open trying to decide if she wanted to warm up the shawarma when the back door opened, and James joined her in the kitchen. Turning her face up for a kiss, he startled her by pulling her into his arms, and treating her to a passionate melding of lips and bodies.

He pulled back just enough to be able to look into her eyes, and smiled. "Welcome home."

"It's good to be here."

James' arms relaxed, but stayed around her. "How was Calcutta?"

Natasha rubbed her hands up his arms to his shoulders. "Hot and humid. I was only there a short time. Missed a monsoon by hours. After that, I was back to the US." In his eyes, she saw expectation and apprehension, and that's when she knew. Her stomach grumbled again.

James took her hand, leading her to the living room where he urged her to sit on the sofa. "Relax. I'll bring us something to eat. Anything in particular you want?"

"I brought shawarma. That or whatever you feel like making. I'm almost too tired to eat." He went back to the kitchen, and while he rattled around, she simply stared at the darkened television, seeing he and his family gathered around watching with awe and some revulsion the events in New York. How did he find out that she was part of it? Aside from Stark and Thor, the identities of the Avengers hadn't been released.

The microwave dinged, and soon James was there with a tray. "It's nothing fancy. Just some shepherd's pie left over from this weekend."

He set the tray over her lap, and went back to the kitchen, returning with a plate, silverware, napkin and a drink for himself. Every few seconds, he glanced at her with an unreadable expression. She sipped her wine, giving him the same look.

When she finished eating, James removed the tray, and came back. He took her hand, and led her upstairs to their bedroom, lifted the covers while she got in, and pulled them up to her chest. He went into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later dressed for bed.

Natasha held the covers up so he could join her, and snuggled against his side with her head on his shoulder. James switched out the light, that same hand taking hold of hers where it lay on his chest. James kissed the top of her head and sighed. Just before she went to sleep, he murmured, "We'll talk about New York tomorrow, Black Widow."

 **The Triskelion**

 **Morning**

After a good night's sleep, Steve felt less tired than before, but not up to his usual speed. Still, an early morning run would get his blood pumping. And he knew the perfect place: The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.

Steve was coming up on his last mile when the African-American man he'd seen a few weeks ago came into sight. Grinning internally, he sped up, calling out "on your left" as he passed the guy, and kept going.

At home, he showered, ate, and dressed for a short briefing with Fury and Hill. After that, he had no plans. Nothing firm at least.

Sitting astride the motorcycle in the Triskelion's parking garage, his thoughts went back to the mysterious call he'd received the night before Peggy passed away. There hadn't been another call, nor had Peggy's family mentioned finding a note addressed to him among her belongings. Why it should suddenly bother him, he didn't know.

Swinging his leg over, Steve unzipped his jacket on the way to the stairwell. He took the stairs up to Fury's floor. The receptionist wasn't at his desk. Steve knocked and the door was opened by Hill. He stepped inside, and she closed it behind him.

Fury was perched on the corner of his desk staring at the wall of monitors, each displaying something different that Fury absorbed almost without effort. Steve was now able to use a computer with some skill, but he wasn't even close to this level.

He sat at the end of a sofa that was identical to the one in Hill's office. She'd sat on the arm while they talked about the mission to Iowa. Today, however, she stayed standing, holding a tablet.

Eventually, Fury joined them. Hill passed the tablet to Steve, and returned to her spot next to the director. When their eyes met, just for a moment, he thought he saw something there then it was gone. Maybe today was the day to approach her with the offer of a dinner date. Something simple that wouldn't distract from them getting to know each other before deciding if the attraction was fleeting, or something deeper.

"Cap?"

Steve looked up, not realizing that Fury had been talking and he hadn't heard a word the man said. "Sorry?"

From the look in Fury's _and_ Hill's eyes, the man wasn't often asked to repeat himself. "Are we keeping you from something, Captain Rogers?"

"No, sir." Adjusting his position, Steve gave Fury his undivided attention. Not an easy task when the distraction stood just to his left with her arms crossed, and a blank expression on her face. And no, he didn't imagine that her blue eyes stayed focused on him, seldom blinking, as if she were purposely trying to unnerve him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing it had worked… for a while. Hill's eyes broke from his for several seconds as she leaned down so Fury could whisper in her ear. When she looked at him again, he raised an eyebrow, and let one side of his mouth turn upward just a fraction of an inch.

"Have I said something to amuse you?" Fury's voice was quiet, and calm. Almost too calm.

"No, sir. I, uh, just got the punch line of a joke."

Maria pursed her lips to keep from smiling, though her eyes twinkled with humor.

Fury crossed one leg over the other. "Good to know you're finally settling in. If you don't mind, we need to finish this briefing. I have a meeting with Councilman Malick in twenty minutes."

"Of course."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

"…it was all an amazing amalgam of coincidences. Originally, I wasn't a part of the Avenger Initiative. It was a case of right place, right time, right skill set to get the job done." Natasha glanced over her shoulder from the stove where she was making brunch for her and Bucky. The toaster popped out four slices of perfectly browned whole grain bread. Pesto was spread on the bread, and one slice was placed in the middle of a small plate. Next came the cucumber, avocado, smoked salmon, arugula, a fried egg, and another sliced of bread. She cut them in half, added a garnish of arugula, and set the plate in front of each place with a flourish.

From the refrigerator, Natasha took out two chilled glasses of tea with mashed blackberries. She added a generous splash of bourbon and sprigs of mint, and set them on the counter before joining Bucky.

"After being chased by the Hulk, and performing cognitive recalibration on my best friend, fighting the Chitauri was a breeze. And once Loki and Thor returned to Asgard, we all went our separate ways. Bruce is staying with Stark at the unofficial Avengers HQ, better known as Stark Tower. Steve, Clint and I are on extended leave."

Bucky took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. Natasha could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He sipped his drink, and just held the glass. "Let me see if I have all the details straight. There's Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit, Captain America, a mild-mannered scientist who turns into a giant green beast…"

"Bruce calls him the Other Guy."

"The Norse god of thunder, Thor, you, with your mad fighting skills, and the guy you called Hawkeye."

She shrugged one shoulder. "You got it."

He picked up the sandwich, but didn't take another bite because he wasn't done. "The other members of the team have all these special abilities and/or physical enhancements, except Clint."

"Right again."

"So what's _his_ superpower?"

Natasha finished chewing, sipped her drink, and wiped her mouth before replying. "Aside from being a smartass?" Bucky laughed as she intended. Since she'd come home from New York, he'd been acting strangely. Not avoiding her. Quite the opposite. It was as if he couldn't get enough of her, and not just physical intimacy. She had to hide in the bathroom to be alone. "Clint may not have any superpowers, but he more than held his own during the invasion.

"He grew up in the circus where he was known as the Amazing Hawkeye because of his skill with a bow and arrow, knives, and the katana. He speaks four languages, not including English, is ambidextrous, trained in martial arts, acrobatics, tactics, and hand-to-hand. He can fly, ride and drive almost anything with an engine, including a unicycle, and is an incorrigible prankster. He's quite charming when it's called for. But don't let that cocky grin fool you. He's one of the most dangerous people you'll ever meet."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Because talking about Clint reminded her of Coulson, and how Loki had brutally stabbed him through the heart, her appetite plunged to zero. Bucky's hand wrapped around her wrist, and the drink was pressed into it. More grateful than she could say, Natasha drank it down. She heard Bucky go to the 'fridge and come back with the pitcher, and the bottle of bourbon. He refilled their glasses over and over, until it was gone.

"Tell me the rest."

Pushing a hand through her hair, Natasha took a deep breath. "So many people lost their lives because of that maniac. But there was one in particular who was special. Phil Coulson was mine and Clint's handler, and our friend. Phil loved this country, and this world. He swore to give his life to protect it, and that's just what he did."

Bucky didn't say a word. Just let her speak.

"I watched the video. I shouldn't have, but I did. Now I can't get the image of Phil lying in a pool of his own blood out of my head.

Natasha wanted to cry, but didn't. Wasn't even sure she could cry. Bucky took her by the hand, and walked her out to the living room. He sat down, and pulled her down beside him, encouraging her to rest against him with her head on his shoulder. His arms held her close, and they just sat there like that for what seemed like hours.

 **Later That Day**

The lift doors opened, Steve got on, and pressed the button for underground parking. Just as the doors closed, a hand shot between them, and it opened to allow Hill to join him. She chose a floor, tucking her hands behind her back as the doors closed again.

Hill let a few seconds of silence hang in the air before speaking. "Settling into the new century, Captain?"

Keeping his eyes on the floor display, Steve shoved one hand into a pocket, coming out with a small notebook. He opened it and started thumbing through the pages. "Pretty much."

"What's that?"

"A list of things to help me fit in, to catch up."

She rocked back and forth on her toes. "If there's anything you don't understand I'd be happy to assist."

The notebook went back in his pocket. "Glad you brought it up Commander. I've been meaning to speak to you."

The lift dinged, and the doors opened. "Then walk with me, Captain. We can do this on the fly."

He followed her down the hall, drawing her to a stop by touching her arm. "I'd rather do it somewhere without distractions."

Those crystal blue eyes locked on his for a few tense seconds. "What do you suggest?"

"Dinner. Someplace where we can talk."

She took so long to answer, Steve thought she would rescind her offer of assistance. Then, she nodded as she came to a stop in front of a non-descript door. "I know a place. Pick me up at the front entrance, 1900."

A small grin crossed his features before he could stop it. "I'll be there."

Hill pressed her palm to a print and DNA scanner, a green light flashed, and the door clicked open. "And Captain Rogers?"

Steve turned back. "Yeah?"

"Because this is a date, shoptalk _ist verboten_."

She stepped into the room, and the door closed before Steve could make a response, provided he had one, which he didn't. It had taken weeks to get the nerve up to ask Hill on a date, and he finally did. Maybe he _could_ handle this century after all.

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 18**

 **Trout's Sports Bar**

 **2100**

Steve watched Maria laughing only a little embarrassed at the reason. He rolled the napkin into a ball, tossed it on his empty plate, and picked up his beer. "So glad you're entertained by my past misfortunes. Maybe I should just take my ego for a walk."

She calmed down, took a drink of beer then pushed the empty glass and plate away. "I wasn't laughing at you getting beat up, Steve. It was the image of using a trash can lid to defend yourself. Prophetic, wouldn't you say?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. Though, when I volunteered for Dr. Erskine's experiment, I never thought I'd end up here." He toyed with his glass, rubbing a thumb through the condensation. The server took their plates away while Steve searched for another topic that had no connection to work. It wasn't easy with the way she was dressed. Not that her clothing choices were especially provocative. A long sleeved black top with a scooped neck that, to his relief, didn't show any cleavage, blue jeans, sneakers, and a denim jacket. Her hair was down instead of back off her face as it was on the job. "Thomas Wolfe was right when he said you can't go home again."

"No one can, Steve." Maria looked down at the tabletop. "It doesn't matter if you're gone a day, a week, a month, fifteen years…"

"Or seventy years?"

One side of her mouth turned up, but without the element of humor she expressed just moments ago. "Or seventy years. Nothing is ever the same as it was when you left. It may sound and smell and feel the same, but it isn't. The people may even look exactly how you remember them, but they aren't, and they never will be."

Steve looked at the top of her head thinking that he'd never seen her appear vulnerable, as though he'd somehow gotten past walls she'd erected around her emotions. He leaned forward, and reached for her hand. She tried to pull away, giving up when she realized he wouldn't let go. "There's a story behind that statement, Maria. Tell me. I can keep a secret."

Maria's eyes met his without flinching or blinking. Then, she shook her head. "Don't know you well enough yet."

This time when she tugged, he let go. "Isn't that what tonight's about?"

Her good humor came back. "Maybe. And maybe I just didn't want go back to my empty apartment."

Pointing a finger at her, Steve lifted one eyebrow. "I'll try not to take offense."

"Let's see that notebook again." She scooted around so she could look over his shoulder, her arm brushing his. He fished it out, flipping through the pages until she said, "Stop. Hmm… Not sure you're ready for Disco or Nirvana, but whatever." She snapped her fingers, and Steve handed her the pencil. Flipping to a blank page, she began writing. "Movies you should see. Hmm… _Deliverance_ , the _Terminator_ movies, all the _Die Hard_ movies, almost any Clint Eastwood movie, and every James Bond movie except _Never Say Never Again_."

"Why not that one?"

"It's an inferior product, despite the star power of Sean Connery. Trust me."

Taking her advice into consideration, Steve made a few notes of his own then flipped to another page. "What about these?"

Her nose wrinkled like she smelled something nasty. "Those are what are commonly known as chick flicks." At his blank stare, Maria explained. "A chick flick is a film genre that deals mainly with love and romance. It's targeted to a female audience, usually with a strong female as the protagonist. If you're up for it, I recommend _Miss Congeniality_ -the first, not the second, _When Harry Met Sally…_ , and _An Affair to Remember_. Not my style, but it can't hurt to have a look."

"Would any of them be on tonight?"

"Possible. Why?"

With Maria's arm pressed against his, he felt warmth where they touched. But that didn't mean either of them wanted to take it further. "We could go to my apartment." At her hesitation, he rushed to assure her, "Just a movie."

Her smile made him glad he asked. Maria signaled the server, paid the check before he could protest, and stood. She took his hand, and pulled him toward the door.

Steve's phone rang as they reached the car. He passed Maria the keys so she could open the doors while he answered the call. "Rogers."

" _My name is Carl Ramirez. You don't know me, Captain Rogers, but I have something that belongs to you_." The man paused to talk to someone there with him, and came back. " _My mother, Yolanda Ramirez, worked at the Innisbrook Extended Care Center. She was Peggy Carter's private nurse_."

"What's this about, Mr. Ramirez?"

" _My mother passed away recently._ "

A long breath rushed out. "I'm sorry for your loss."

" _Thanks. In going through her belongings, I found a note addressed to you, along with your phone number. The envelope isn't sealed. Would you like me to read it to you?_ "

The chances of the note saying something personal were slim. "Please."

Paper rustled then Carl came back on. " _I hope this means more to you than it does to me. All it says is 'winter is coming'_."

Steve rolled the words around in his head. "That's it?"

" _Yes, sir. Would you like me to bring it to you? I can meet you anytime tomorrow._ "

"Please. Noon at the Java Junction on Madison Street." Steve ended the call, shoved the phone in his back pocket, and got behind the wheel.

"What was _that_ about?"

He put on his seat belt, started the car, and pulled into traffic. "Not sure. Guess I'll find out tomorrow."

At the light, Maria turned sideways in her seat. "We don't have to do this tonight."

"I've seen a few of the movies and shows recommended by others. It'll be nice to have someone to explain some of the references."

"If you're sure…"

Turning to look at her, Steve smiled. "I am."

 **Restoran Za** **Vas!**

 **Dulles International Airport**

The valet exchanged the keys to a nearly new dark grey Ford Fusion for a generous tip while another held the door for the passenger. The couple buckled up, he shifted into gear and pulled into traffic headed toward the airport's north exit, taking the highway east toward D.C.

Joi resolutely kept her eyes trained on the road instead of on the driver. Frank Vitale had been a charming and attentive companion throughout their date, and now that dinner was over, an edge of awkwardness crept into the back seat, taunting her with the possibilities.

She was attracted to Frank, and knew he felt the same. But there was something not quite right going on here, as if the spark that had flared hot and bright when they kissed was already beginning to die out. Loathe as she was to make comparisons between the men she dated, just this once, she gave in.

The mutual attraction with Frank had burst like a supernova. Yet, unlike that stellar phenomenon, it was already fading out, the process taking only days instead of weeks or months.

With Steve, the build-up had taken a while. They'd become friends before taking their relationship to the next step, drawing her in a little at a time, until their association had become almost symbiotic, and immensely satisfying on every level. Each could operate efficiently without the other, but they still needed to be together for their lives to feel complete.

Across the gulf between them, Joi sensed that Frank was coming to the same conclusion. When dropped her at her car, she would smile sweetly, and politely decline any other invitations. And the next time she saw Steve, she would ask him to take her back.

~~O~~

The evening had gone better than Frank could've hoped. The solyanka had been a bit on the spicy side, though still flavorful. Coffee and apple strudel had been almost more than he and Joi could handle.

Vanya had come to the table, welcoming them with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. Having studied the Russian culture, Frank knew not to turn down offers of food and drink. When Joi expressed her wish not to appear rude by not finishing the dessert, he let her know that guests who leave food on their plates honored their hosts because it means they've eaten well.

The conversation between he and Joi had been stimulating as he'd known it would, given their previous encounters. She challenged him intellectually, forcing him to delve into the reasons for his opinions and preferences on a variety of subjects. Their only major disagreement had been on the subject of who would've made a better match with Mal Reynolds, Inara or River.

Yet, something was missing. He still felt a pull toward her, seeing it now as simple sexual attraction, not something that would stand the test of time as more than friendship. His mother had once told him that some people were better off as friends rather than lovers.

He pulled into the parking lot of Mon Petit Café, and stopped next to her car. Neither made a move to get out, knowing they had to talk. "Joi…"

"I know what you're going to say, and I agree." All during the drive back to D.C., neither of them had spoken, both apparently lost in the same thoughts. "So, friends?"

Frank shook his head. "Not sure I'm ready for that just yet. Let's see what happens by the end of the show."

He got out, and went around to open Joi's door. They stood there for a moment, Frank watching the breeze ruffle her hair. The spell was broken when she reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He took her keys, opened her car door, and handed them back. "I don't suppose you'd like to…"

That startled a laugh out of Joi that ended on a snort. She covered her mouth with her hand, blushing lightly in the bright lights. "No. Good night. See you Monday at the studio."

Frank sighed, got back in his car, and headed for home.

 **Steve's Apartment**

 **The Next Morning**

Pulling the pillow around her ears to block out the traffic noise, Maria growled at the ticking clock on the dresser. She hadn't set the alarm before going to bed, and it was hours past her usual wake-up time. No one would dare make a fuss if she arrived at work late. Not even Fury. It was one of the perks of being second-in-command.

Then there was the reason she overslept: Steve Rogers. He'd enjoyed the movie they watched the night before, a romantic comedy that hadn't been on his list, but he'd been intrigued by the title, _Pillow Talk_. She had to admit she enjoyed it too.

When it became apparent that she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon, Maria threw the pillow aside, kicked the covers off, and rolled out of bed. Taking a moment to orient herself, she located the bathroom, picked up her clothes, went in and closed the door. She came out less than fifteen minutes later, pulled the sheets from the bed, and remade it with clean linens.

The television came on in the other room telling her that Steve was awake. The smell of coffee drew her to the kitchen where she poured them each a cup, and carried them to the living room.

By the time the movie had ended, it had been late. Steve insisted that she take his bed because, "I can sleep anywhere." A sheet was folded on one end of the sofa with a pillow on top, and Steve's eyes were riveted to the television. He used the remote to turn up the volume.

" _The Metro Police Department is investigating the death of Yolanda Ramirez. Ms. Ramirez, 66, had been employed by Innisbrook Extended Care Center as a private nurse. She was found in her Alexandria apartment, dead from a possible self-inflicted insulin overdose just one day after she attended the funeral of SHIELD founder Peggy Carter whom she'd nursed the last four years. MPD spokesperson Elizabeth Lukasiewicz stated that an autopsy will be conducted, and the results should be available sometime in the next two weeks. This is John Jardine reporting from the Washington D.C. office of ZNN News._ "

Steve shut off the television, set the remote on the coffee table, and took the cup she held out to him. "Ramirez. Isn't that the guy who called last night?"

"Yes." His free hand tapped the top of his thigh. "I'm going out on a limb and say Yolanda was the one who called the day before Peggy died."

Maria sipped coffee and set the cup on the table. "Sounds reasonable."

"Then Yolanda dies the day after the funeral. Tell me that doesn't set off alarms."

"Oh, my Spidey-sense is tingling."

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Spidey-sense?"

"It's when your instincts say 'danger' or 'deception'."

Steve finished off his coffee, and went to the closet by the front door. He helped Maria on with her jacket then put on his own. "I'll take you home then swing by the nursing home to talk to the staff. Find out if anyone saw anything the night Peggy died."

"Want company?"

He paused a moment, as if she'd asked something entirely different, then his smile turned into a smirk. "Why not? Every superhero needs a sidekick."

Maria gave him an overly sweet smile, and moved in close, backing him up against the closet door. "I like you, Rogers. But call me a sidekick again, and you'll lose your ability to procreate."

Her hands grasped the lapels of his jacket to pull him down for a long, hot kiss. His hands found her waist, resting on the upper curve of her hips. She moved back, straightening his jacket lapels with exaggerated precision, taking longer than necessary. "The term is 'Superhero Support'."

She stepped back just as quickly, he opened the door, and ushered her out. The door across the hall opened, and Kate stepped out dressed in green scrubs. She looked from one to the other, her eyes wide. "Morning, Kate."

"Steve." Her eyes flicked from Steve to Maria and back.

"Maria, this is my neighbor, Kate. Kate, my friend, Maria. We uh…"

Because he was at a loss for an explanation as to why he was leaving his apartment early in the morning with a woman who had obviously spent the night, Maria stepped in. "We're on our way to breakfast. Care to join us?"

"Thank you, no. I have an early shift at the hospital. Enjoy your day." Kate ducked her head in embarrassment, and ran down the stairs.

Steve exhaled loudly. "Great. Now she thinks I'm on Active Duty."

The front door opened and closed, echoing up the stairs. Maria led the way, and Steve fell in beside her. "I'm sure she doesn't think you're a man-slut, Steve. She was just surprised."

"She thinks we spent the night together."

"We _did_."

They reached the first floor just as Kate was pulling out of the parking lot. Steve opened the door and followed Maria out. "That's not…"

"Oh, I know what you mean. It's just so much fun seeing that deer-in-the-headlights look when you're embarrassed."

~~O~~

As they approached his car, Steve changed his mind. "I haven't had the bike out in a while. You game?"

"Always." He didn't wear a helmet, and rightly assumed Maria didn't as well, though she did tie her hair back. Swinging his leg over, Steve kick-started the bike, and waited for her to climb on. Over his shoulder, he said, "Sorry there's no sissy bar."

She scoffed in his ear. "Sissy bars are for sissies. And I'm no sissy."

Her hands settled on his waist as he shifted into gear, and pulled into traffic. The ride to Alexandria took forty minutes. He parked, and waited for Maria to dismount before putting the kickstand down. Staring at the building with his hands in his pockets, Steve worked out how to phrase his questions for the staff to get the information he needed.

"Something wrong?"

"With patient confidentiality laws, how do I get them to tell me what I want to know? The staff wouldn't even admit that Peggy was a patient until her family intervened." Steve looked down at Maria, hoping she would provide him with insight.

"I can help with that. Sunglasses." Steve handed over his aviators. She slipped them on, and removed her jacket. "Gimme your jacket." Confused, he did as she asked, and she put it on, the sleeves so long her hands disappeared. Rolling the cuffs up to her wrists, Maria grinned. "Listen and learn, Rogers."

She dialed his phone, and set it to record then dropped hers into one of the pockets on her way up the stairs to the front door.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Natasha dragged herself out of a deep and dreamless sleep. Sitting on the side of the bed, she stretched and yawned, shoved her feet into slippers, and headed into the bathroom where she found a note stuck to the mirror.

 _Gone to the museum. Back by dinner time._

 _Love,_

 _James_

She changed into workout clothes and went for a run, and when she returned, the coffee was just finishing the brew cycle. She poured a cup, sipping as she went out to the patio for floor exercises.

In the middle of stretching, the front doorbell rang. On the way, Natasha palmed one of the weapons hidden throughout the house. She put her eye to the peephole, relaxing when she saw who it was. The weapon, a Makarov, slid easily into the waistband of her pants. She pulled her top down to cover it, and opened the door. "Come in, Chase." The young man stepped inside, and she led the way to the kitchen, pouring him a coffee, and setting it in front of him at the counter. What he didn't see was her take the weapon out, lay it in a drawer, cover it with a hand towel, and close it again. "I'm glad you're here. I was going to call you."

Chase sipped the coffee and returned the cup to the counter. "Oh?"

"You're the go-to guy for all things computer." Natasha leaned against the counter with her arms crossed. "Have you noticed your grandfather acting odd lately?"

His eyes stayed on the cup as he turned it around and around. Then, he looked up, holding her gaze with his own. The boy probably thought himself enigmatic, but to Natasha, it just looked coy.

"Odd how?"

"Has he mentioned sleepwalking, headaches, bad dreams?"

One shoulder shrugged, his eyes flitting to a bowl of fresh fruit. She took the hint, and pushed it within reach. Chase chose a bright green apple, polishing it on his sleeve. "Not a word. He's never been sick as far back as I can remember. Or if he was, neither he nor Grams mentioned it."

"Knowing James, it seems reasonable to assume he'd have kept it from Connie so she wouldn't worry, considering her age."

"Agreed." Chase took a huge bite of the apple, the thoughts swirling in his head as he chewed.

Just as he took a second bite, Natasha came to refill his cup. "You found the cameras."

He stopped in mid crunch, set the apple on a napkin, and wiped his mouth while chewing. He washed the bits of fruit down with another swallow of coffee before responding. "How is it you're always a step ahead of everyone else?" 

~~O~~

Natasha refilled her cup and came around to sit next to Chase, her legs crossed at the knees, and a small smile playing on her lips. "Remember when James introduced us?"

"Yeah." His grinned faded, and his mouth dropped open. Natasha took his cup before he could drop it, carried it to the stove, and added something alcoholic. Whatever it was, he didn't care. She pressed the cup into his hand, and he drank it all down without stopping then set the cup aside, and wiped his mouth. "Son of a b*****! You weren't kidding."

" _Nyet_."

"How… Who… I mean, when…" Chase took a deep breath to still his racing thoughts. His grandfather was living with a spy. "Does…"

His cup was refilled with coffee and alcohol. This time he sipped instead of chugged. Across the counter, Natasha watched him with that unblinking gaze she used on all of them at one time or another. "How is a long story, as is who. When, seven. And yes, James knows. He thinks it's cool."

Leaning on the counter, Chase finished off his second drink, and pushed the cup away, letting Natasha know he didn't want another. "Gramps always was a little weird. I mean, with the experiments that doctor did on him he could've died way back in WWII. He told us about Steve saving him from falling from the train, and everything. But he survived, and it's almost like he doesn't age."

"James and Steve will probably live for three hundred years, give or take a couple of decades. No one's certain. Their progeny will most likely have extended lifespans as well." Natasha put their cups in the sink, and the bottle in the cabinet. "Back to the cameras…"

"Yeah. How'd you know I found them?"

She swiped her phone from the counter. "This little puppy is set up to alert me if they're disturbed in any way. It also told me you did a background check on me. You're the computer geek in the family…"

"One plus one plus one equals three. Got it. So where do we go from here?"

"The cameras are for monitoring James when he sleepwalks. It's set to wake me when I'm here so I can see where he goes, and if necessary, stop him. If it happens when I'm not around, there's no one to keep him from getting into trouble. Can you imagine what the news agencies would say if they knew?" She reached across the counter and touched Chase's hand. "I only want to protect him."

There was nothing to think about. His grandfather's life could be at stake, not to mention his reputation. And what if the reason it was all happening was because of that doctor, Zola? Did that mean the rest of the family would start going off the rails too? "I'm in, Natasha. And I have something to bring to the table. Literally."

Chase grabbed several cases from his SUV, and brought them inside, setting them on the dining room table.

Natasha followed, curious. "What's in there?"

"Tools of the trade." He laid one case on its side and flipped open the locks. Nestled in foam was a pair of two small drones. An identical case held two more. "I can program one of these to follow him when he goes out say between one and five in the morning. I'll set it up so we both have control. That way, if he's legitimately going out at that time, or you're following him, the drone can be disabled."

"Could you also program more than one just in case another person or vehicle needs to be tracked?"

He nodded as he set the four drones on the table. "Keep at least two in your car." Grinning, he looked at her and back to what he was doing. "Unless your trunk's full of guns, grenades, and other tools of the spy trade."

She met his grin with a smirk. "There's plenty of room."

"Let me guess. They're in a secret compartment."

"And in the house." He didn't know what to expect when Natasha opened a drawer and took out a towel. She unwrapped it to show a black handgun. "When I moved in, James told me to make myself at home. So I did."

Opening a port in the side of each of the drones, Chase attached a USB cable. They ran to a hub, which was connected to his computer. He sat down, stretched his hands, and got to work, not hearing Natasha leave the room. Barely noticing when she placed a cup of coffee near his right hand.

By the time he was done, the sun was setting. He got up to stretch, and thought about all the times he'd done this exact thing without feeling stiff and sore afterward, wondering if it had to do with his grandfather's funky DNA. Then there was the fact that none of them ever got a hangover. Those that did, in order to get drunk, they would have to consume enough alcohol to kill at least three grown men. And even then it wasn't a certainty. That's why he didn't bother spending his hard earned cash on alcohol, except on rare occasions.

"Nat? Nat? Where'd you go?" There was no answer to Chase's enquiry so he went looking for his grandfather's girlfriend. He found her in the living room standing on her head. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Yes, but only Clint gets to call me Nat."

"Ex-boyfriend?"

She made a sound of disdain. "Best friend, and married with kids."

Chase felt awkward talking to Natasha in this position so he lay on the floor a few feet in front of her, head propped on his hand. "How long have you been like this?"

"About an hour." She parted her legs front to back as if she were doing the splits, toes pointed. One knee came in toward her chest while keeping the other straight and angled toward the floor.

"Wow. I run every day, play basketball, soccer, and lift weights. But you make that look easy."

She smiled, brought her knees to her chest, straightened her legs as she lowered them to the floor, first one knee then the other, and sat up. "If it was easy, anyone could do it."

Chase rolled to a sitting position, elbow on knee, and chin on his fist. "I've watched the videos of you and the Avengers taking down the aliens. We found a clip of you and Steve duking it out with a squad. You're fighting the aliens together, and though you were vastly outnumbered, you take 'em down. No muss, no fuss."

Natasha stretched her legs out in front, and touched her knees with her forehead. "Are you making a point here, Chase?"

"I am." He stood, and reached down to pull her up beside him.

~~O~~

The SUV pulled into the driveway, taking its place next to Natasha's 'Ray. Bucky got out, giving Chase's vehicle a curious glance, wondering what his grandson would be doing here in the middle of the week. The boy worked twelve-hour days, sometimes even on the weekends.

As he approached the front door, Bucky heard a thump that sounded like a body hitting the floor, accompanied by grunting, gasping, and some moaning. He let himself in, lay his keys and wallet on the table by the stairs, and followed the sounds to the living room. There, he found the furniture had been moved out of the way. His girlfriend and grandson were in what some would see as a compromising position.

They were on the floor, Natasha had her thighs wrapped around Chase's head, and his hands were gripping her at mid-thigh, pulling in opposite directions. A gesture that was ultimately futile. They had all seen the videos of the fighting in New York. Why would Chase think he could take Natasha on and win?

"What's going on?"

Natasha smiled happily at seeing him, clamping her thighs tighter when Chase tried to get away. "James!"

A grunt came from Chase as he turned his head so he could see. "Hey, Gramps. You're home early." Bucky just stared at him blankly. "This, uh, isn't what it looks like."

Bucky crossed his arms, and shot the boy a mild glare, hoping Chase wouldn't see that he was containing his laughter with difficulty. "Oh? And what _does_ it look like?"

 **TBC**

 _Deliverance_ is a 1972 American dramatic thriller film produced and directed by John Boorman, and stars Jon Voight, Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty and Ronny Cox, with the latter two making their feature film debuts. The film is based on the 1970 novel of the same name by American author James Dickey.

The _Terminator_ series is an American science fiction franchise created by James Cameron and Gale Anne Hurd. It encompasses a series of films, comics, novels, and additional media concerning battles between Skynet's synthetic intelligent machine network, and John Connor's Resistance forces and the rest of the human race.

The _Die Hard_ series is an American action movie franchise that began in 1988 with _Die Hard_ , based on the 1979 novel _Nothing Lasts Forever_ by Roderick Thorp. The franchise follows the adventures of John McClane (portrayed by Bruce Willis), a New York City and Los Angeles police detective who continually finds himself in the middle of violent crises and intrigues where he is the only hope against disaster.

James Bond is a fictional character created by novelist Ian Fleming in 1953. Bond is a British secret agent working for MI6 who also answers by his codename, 007. He has been portrayed on film by actors Sean Connery, David Niven, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig, in twenty-six productions.

 _Miss Congeniality_ is a 2000 comedy film directed by Donald Petrie, written by Marc Lawrence, Katie Ford and Caryn Lucas, starring Sandra Bullock, Michael Caine, Benjamin Bratt and Candice Bergen.

 _When Harry Met Sally…_ is a 1989 romantic comedy written starring Billy Crystal as Harry and Meg Ryan as Sally.

 _An Affair to Remember_ is a 1957 romantic film starring Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.

 _Pillow Talk_ is a 1959 romantic comedy starring Rock Hudson, Doris Day, Tony Randall, Thelma Ritter and Nick Adams.

Solyanka is a thick, spicy and sour soup that is common in Russia and other states of the former Soviet Union. There are three basic types, with the main ingredient being meat, fish, or mushrooms. All of them contain pickled cucumbers with brine, and often cabbage, salted mushrooms, smetana (sour cream), and dill.

 _Firefly_ is an American space western drama television series created by writer/director Joss Whedon, under his Mutant Enemy Productions label. The series is set in the year 2517, and follows the adventures of the renegade crew of _Serenity_ , a " _Firefly_ -class" spaceship. The ensemble cast are portrayed as "nine people looking into the blackness of space, and seeing nine different things".

Active Duty = A sexually promiscuous man


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter has content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. If you're under the age of 21, and read this anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 19**

Hours after they left the nursing home, Steve still couldn't get over how easily Maria had manipulated the staff into giving her the information she wanted, and with a finesse that he envied. Not that they were able to provide any insight. Still, it was an amazing talent. He'd seen Natasha do the same thing on several occasions, but that was her job. From what little she said, Maria's position was more administrative than field work.

While they were talking at the bar, she made veiled references to her past without giving details. And though he wanted to delve deeper into what made her the woman she was today, he thought it best not to ask the questions just yet. Let them get to know each other better first.

Instead of clearing things up, the note Steve got from Carl Ramirez just made the waters murkier. He hadn't been kidding when he read it over the phone.

 _Winter is coming_

What did it mean beyond the obvious?

Leaning against the wall with his arms and legs crossed so he wouldn't pace, Steve waited for the lab to finish their work on the note. They tested the ink, paper, the handwriting, even for residual chemicals or substances that would tell them where it came from.

The handwriting was easy. He told them upfront that it wasn't Peggy's. At least not the way he remembered it. At her advanced age and medical condition, she probably couldn't have written anything without assistance. The tech confirmed that the writing was Yolanda Ramirez's, and it was safe to assume she'd written it at Peggy's request.

The words conformed to no known code. The ink was nothing special and came from a pen that was mass produced, as was the paper. The texture and composition was identical to the pads used by the nursing home staff. The only fingerprints were the Ramirez's. Because the envelop wasn't sealed, there was no DNA evidence.

Steve left the lab with no real destination in mind. He'd run out of ideas, and apparently so had Maria, as well as the forensic team. Opting for the stairs instead of the lift, he took the long way to the underground parking where he found Maria standing next to his bike.

As though they'd been doing it for years, Steve started up the bike, and Maria got on behind him. He left by the back exit, and on the other side of the bridge, turned right instead of left to go to his apartment. He drove until he came to the same bar where they had dinner the night before. Tonight, the place was less full with different staff.

Maria went to the bar, and joined him at the table with two beers. She took a long drink, and returned the glass to the cardboard coaster. "Think, Steve. You're sure it's not something you and Peggy talked about, or something you did together that might have had special meaning to one or both of you?"

"I _am_ thinking, but nothing's coming, Maria. We never went on a real date. Not unless you count sitting in a bombed out bar talking about how to take HYDRA down." He looked up when the server brought food to the table. A giant burger with the works, an order of onion rings, and Cole slaw for Steve, and a shrimp and avocado salad for Maria. Steve added ketchup to the burger, giving Maria a mild glare when she stole one of his onion rings. "What if we're overthinking it? Maybe it's simpler than a code or a memory."

"That still doesn't tell us what it means."

"It obviously meant something to Peggy, or Yolanda wouldn't have been so adamant about having me visit when her family wasn't around. What did the background checks tell us?"

Maria chewed a bite of salad to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. "Not much. They're just what they appear to be. Hard working men and women who put family first and work second. They go to church on Sundays, volunteer in the community, and don't overspend at Christmas. Yolanda's youngest son was arrested as a juvenile, accused of trespassing on the grounds of an abandoned hotel. He was released into her custody that same night with a warning. The worst infraction anyone of them committed was speeding. All in all, a pretty boring family."

Shaking his head and grinning, Steve picked up one of the onion rings. "After the life I've had, boring looks pretty good about now." An idea came to him. He sat up straighter in his seat. "What about Peggy's family?"

"What about them?"

"Background checks."

Maria pulled out her phone on the way out the front door. She was back in a few minutes. "Klein's on it."

" _Cameron_ Klein?"

"Yeah. Know him?"

One shoulder went up and down. "Met him a few days out of the ice."

His companion picked up one of the potato skins, staring at it as if it were something entirely different. "He's one of our best techs. If anyone can dig up dirt on someone, it's him."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

"Uh, N'tasha…"

Chase tapped out for the third time, and Natasha finally released him. She rolled to her feet, greeting Bucky with a kiss. "Chase came to help with my computer. He told me about the video from New York, and I offered to show him a few moves."

Bucky looked down at his grandson sitting on the floor. "How did it go?"

The young man got to his feet, showing that he was the same height as Bucky. "As you saw when you came in, she wiped the floor with my sorry a**."

She latched onto a plausible reason for them to be meeting several times a week. "If you like, we can set up a schedule for training. Make it a family thing. Get everyone involved."

He picked up his computer bag and the case with the drones. "Let me think about it. Not sure if I can take the damage to my self-esteem that would come with having my grandfather's girlfriend give me the beatdown on a regular basis. I'll pass the word around though."

The door closed behind him. Bucky sighed ruefully, sitting heavily on the sofa. "He could've at least helped put the furniture back."

Natasha sat next to him, holding his hand. "We can do it. What would you like for dinner?"

"Anything, as long as it's delivered."

With sincere sympathy, she said, "Poor baby. You sound tired."

He exhaled, and put his arm around her shoulders. "Ever since New York, I've had to dodge the paparazzi at the museum more than usual because of my friendship with Captain America. I'm just lucky they don't know about _you_ , what I drive or where I live, or they'd be outside all the time."

"They have resources. Finding out where you live is easy."

He snorted. "Not so much. The house is listed as being owned by a holding company that belongs to a corporation owned by another corporation, etc. My actual name doesn't appear on any of the paperwork that's part in the public record. Same with my car, and everything else I own. Took care of it before the news of the exhibit hit the airwaves."

Natasha reached up to touch his cheek, giving him an affectionate smile. "Have I told you lately how much I admire your incredible mind?"

Bucky's free hand went around her knees to pull her onto his lap, holding her close. "Is that all you admire about me?"

"Of course not, but we can talk about the rest later."

He nuzzled her ear, nibbling on the lobe, making her gasp. "Why not now?"

"Mmm. Because I've ordered dinner, and it should be here…" the doorbell rang, interrupting her, "…now."

Reluctantly, he let her go. Natasha took cash from her wallet, and went to the door. Behind her, she heard Bucky go into the downstairs bathroom. By the time he came out, she'd set the dining room table complete with candles, china and cloth napkins, and was in the process of transferring the food to the plates. "Fried calamari for us to share, antipasto salad for you, from which I'll steal a few bites, a double order of lasagna for you, shrimp scampi for me, and a bottle of merlot to share."

"Adventurous, pairing merlot with beef _and_ seafood." Bucky held her chair then reached for the bottle and corkscrew.

"The sommelier probably thinks I'm a philistine with little or no class. But there's a reason I requested this particular wine."

He poured them each a glass of the dark blue-colored wine, and seated himself. "Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Try it, and let me know what you think. Then I'll share the provenance."

"I'm not a wine snob, and I'll try almost anything once." With exaggerated pomposity, Bucky performed the five S's of wine tasting. "I like it. Not too pretentious, just the right amount of kick, and enough cheekiness to keep from being boring." He set the glass down, and picked up his salad fork. "Now give it up."

Natasha sipped the wine, savoring the taste. "It's made by Forbidden Peak Vineyards, which is owned and operated by my best friend and his wife."

"You'll have to introduce us some day."

The bantering tone dissolved as did her smile. "That might be doable, and soon. Clint's on admin leave for the time being. Some still believe that he helped Loki voluntarily. But they weren't there. He tried to kill me, and he would've. I could see it in his eyes. He knew me, yet he didn't."

Bucky placed his hand over hers. "We don't have to talk about it now."

She forced a smile. "On the upside, I didn't have to tell his family that he'd been killed or that he was going to prison for the rest of his life."

"See? There's always a bright side, if you look hard enough."

They ate in silence for a while. Natasha stuck a fork in Bucky's antipasto, grinning when he mock-glared at her. "What would you like to do after dinner, _lyubimaya_?" He grinned, one eyebrow twitching upward. "Hmph. _Besides_ that."

"It's not too cold. We could sit in the backyard swing and watch the stars."

Forty minutes later, Natasha and Bucky were cuddled together on the wooden swing on the gazebo in the corner of the yard that was surrounded by colorful blooms just poking their heads out from their winter hibernation. With her back against his chest, and his arms around her, Natasha thanked fate for allowing their paths to cross. She still wasn't ready to be married. Might never be. But she could still take a step in that direction. "Let's go to the shelter this weekend, and get a cat."

~~O~~

Joi let herself into the apartment, set her purse and keys on the coffee table, and hung her jacket in the closet. She took a bottle of water from the 'fridge, and used it to take something for the headache that had started on the way home.

Then she changed into pajamas, too tired to shower tonight. She flopped on the sofa, tucked her feet under, and turned on Netflix to watch the newest episode of _Daredevil_. She fell asleep before the show ended, and dreamt of winning the chef challenge and having her own cooking show.

In the morning, Joi showered, dressed and went to the restaurant for a quick meeting with the manager before heading off to the studio again. When she saw Frank, she smiled politely, and he returned it.

Near the end of the lunch break, Amalie cornered her in the hall. "What _is_ it with you and Frank today, Joi?"

Doing her best impression of someone who was completely clueless, Joi replied, "I don't understand."

"For weeks now you and he have been going at it so hard I expected to see a _Game of Thrones_ type of assassination go down. And today, you've hardly spoken. What gives?"

"Maybe we ran out of things to argue about."

Amalie made a sound of disdain. "And maybe you finally got down to mattress dancing."

Reining in her annoyance and frustration with difficulty, Joi smiled blandly. "Whether we did or didn't is no one's business." She looked at her watch. "I have to get back, or Simon will have a stroke."

With her head held high, Joi strode down the hall to the studio. Frank had taken a seat off to one side while Simon directed several other chefs. He waved, and she slid into the seat next to him. Taking out her phone, she pretended intense interest in what she was reading. "Amalie thinks we're sleeping together."

"Did you set her straight?"

"Yup. Apparently, we were bringing it all home for the show. Now that we're not fighting, there goes the drama."

Frank huffed. "I'm sure they'll come up with something to boost the ratings."

"That's pretty much a given." They both looked up when Charlie came toward them. Out the side of her mouth, Joi whispered, "Is it too late to pretend I don't speak English?"

"Way too." He turned away from her, speaking in Italian. "Wanna have some fun?" Joi made a sound indicating agreement, and a moment later, Frank dumped iced coffee in her lap.

Her phone clattered to the floor as she jumped up, ice and murky brow fluid splashing on the floor. She brushed at the wetness on her pants, shouting in Italian, " _Merda!_ You did that on purpose, Vitale!"

Frank picked up the cup that still had a few ounces in the bottom, and shook it in her face. "If I'd done it on purpose, it would be in that rat's nest you call hair, Lockwood. You should shave it off and start over. Couldn't possibly look worse than it is now."

"That's funny coming from someone who uses the same barber as Donald Trump."

From there, it went downhill. Eventually, Amalie and Charlie separated them, after making sure Liam recorded lots of footage for the show of course. Behind their back's Frank flashed her a wink, and she stuck her tongue out at him just before Amalie dragged her into wardrobe to change for the next series of shots.

 **After Midnight**

Natasha lay on her right side near the edge of the mattress, one hand under the pillow and the other pushed up under her chin, but Bucky didn't notice how sweet and vulnerable she looked. He got out of bed, changed into the clothes he'd laid out the night before, made his way downstairs, and out the front door to the SUV.

The engine started, and he backed out of the driveway without putting on his seatbelt. A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Rover Dog Park, shut the engine off and got out. His footsteps made little sound in the dewy grass.

He stopped next to a picnic table underneath a huge shade tree crowded with dense shrubbery. The animals that usually scampered through the park were asleep, all but a few owls and bats searching for food.

What he also hadn't noticed was the black muscle car following him. It parked far enough away to not be heard, and the occupant jogged the rest of the way, watching from the concealment of overgrown bushes and weeds as Bucky stood next to the picnic table for less than ten minutes. He then returned to his vehicle and drove home.

The watcher stayed behind for another thirty minutes, a drone floating above recording the scene. Nothing and no one came or went in that time, and soon the watcher returned to the vehicle, huffing in frustration.

~~O~~

Natasha arrived home, and parked in her usual spot next to the SUV. She crept to the door, and let herself in, setting the alarms just in case someone had gotten inside while she and Bucky were gone. That way, she'd know when they left, and could go after them.

She slowly climbed to the second floor, taking a handgun from her back waistband, and thumbing the safety off.

The bedside lamp was on, and Bucky lay on the bed in his clothes, hands laced over his stomach, his breathing slow and steady. Bringing one knee up, he rolled onto his side, a hand patting the bed where Natasha usually slept until she pushed a pillow into his arms. He cuddled the pillow as if it were her, and was still.

She dragged a chair into the doorway, and sat down to keep watch the rest of the night.

~~O~~

When the sun came up, Natasha put the chair and weapon back in their accustomed places, and went downstairs to start the coffee. Bucky arrived just as it finished brewing, grabbed the cup she set out for him, filled it to the brim, and went to sit at the counter, elbow on the table, holding up his head.

Natasha slid into the seat next to him. "How did you sleep, _lyubimaya_?"

"Sleep?" He sounded as if he'd never heard of such a thing.

"Yes, sleep. It's a naturally recurring state of mind characterized by altered consciousness in which the body restores itself, and the subconscious dreams. Poets and playwrights expound upon it, and some animals do it for months at a time."

He grunted, and took another sip of coffee, setting the cup on the counter. "The way I feel this morning, sleep is apocryphal, a myth, an urban legend. Something people talk about, but no one ever really experiences. Like Bigfoot."

She scooted close, rubbing her hand across his shoulders, and leaning against his side. He barely noticed, which was not at all like him. "Bad dreams again?"

Shaking his head, Bucky pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Don't remember. All I know is I went to bed in my pajamas, and woke up in my clothes."

"You must've sleepwalked again. At least you got dressed before going out. Can you imagine the headlines tomorrow if you went out naked and the paparazzi caught up with you?"

"My reputation, and that of the museum, would be in the toilet."

Natasha took his coffee cup and moved it out of reach. "I didn't sleep well myself. Let's go back to bed for a few hours."

Finally, he looked at her, one side of his mouth turning up. "Normally, I would jump at the chance to get you into bed, but I have to go to the museum."

She needed him to be here at home where she could watch him, and assess his state of mind to determine if he should see a doctor. To achieve that goal, it was time to step up her game.

Natasha slipped between Bucky and the counter, and straddled his lap, pressing her womanly curves against him. She framed his face with her palms, her thumbs brushing lightly over his stubbled cheeks, and kissed each closed eye, the corners of his mouth, and lastly, his lips. At first, Bucky barely responded, but she was patient, slowly coaxing him to open up to her. And when he did, she took advantage, sliding her tongue over and around his while her hands worked the buttons free, and pushed his shirt off. She raked her nails through the hair on his chest, stopping to rub her palms over his firm pectorals and ribs, lightly digging the nails into the skin.

Her actions had the desired effect. Bucky gripped her thighs and surged to his feet, setting her on the edge of the counter. He pushed her top up and off, inhaling sharply when he saw she was bare underneath. She moaned while his rough hands smoothed over her exposed skin, touching her in all those places that yearned for him.

With a small amount of frantic fumbling, their clothing was discarded, and they moaned into each other's mouth as they moved together. The bowl of fruit, both coffee cups, and a stack of mail hit the floor, though neither of them noticed.

Bucky moved just right, and the bright light of ultimate bliss surged through her, producing gasps and moans. A moment later, he gasped, and sagged onto his elbows letting them take most of his weight so he wouldn't crush her. He touched their foreheads together, and when his breathing returned to something close to normal, he kissed her, long and sweet. "You win," he whispered huskily. "I'll stay home."

Once more, she framed his face with her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and the curves of his lips. "Haven't you learned by now, _lyubimaya moya_? I always win."

 **TBC**

 _Daredevil_ is an American web television series created for Netflix by Drew Goddard, based on the Marvel Comics character of the same name. It is set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), sharing continuity with the films of the franchise, and is the first in a series of shows that will lead up to a Defenders crossover miniseries.

 _Game of Thrones_ is an American fantasy drama television series created by showrunners David Benioff and D. B. Weiss. It is an adaptation of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ , George R. R. Martin's series of fantasy novels, the first of which is titled _A Game of Thrones_.

 _Merda_ = I think we all know what it means ("Language!")


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lady Pandora and ladygris for their endless hours of listening to me talk about my ideas, and for all the Betas they've done over the years.

Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 20**

Once more, Natasha framed Bucky's face with her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and the curves of his lips. "Haven't you learned by now, _lyubimaya moya_? I always win."

Breathing deeply to calm his racing heart, Bucky moved back, taking his weight off of Natasha with a grin. "I'll have to remember that next time, though I do appreciate this particular method of persuasion."

She scooted off the counter, and gathered their clothes, handing Bucky his pants, boxers and shirt. "You just needed an incentive."

Bucky followed her up the stairs and into the bedroom, tossing his clothes into the laundry basket. Hers flew after his, and soon they were together under the covers. Sensing that Natasha had something on her mind besides the fact that neither of them had slept well the night before, Bucky thought to call her on it, but he was too tired to worry about it now. Later would do just as well. He snuggled closer to Natasha's warmth, and sighed.

~~O~~

Bucky was asleep within moments after lying down. Natasha had counted on the fact in order for her to be able to find a way to delve into his subconscious. If someone had been there before, he would be susceptible to further post-hypnotic suggestions. Something simple to start with then work around to finding out who was controlling him. But that would come later.

He moaned in his sleep, and rolled over, facing the closet, giving Natasha the opportunity to slip out of bed for a few minutes. Without making a sound, she put on her robe, and tiptoed downstairs for her phone. She sent a text to Chase, her ally in this little conspiracy that wasn't really a conspiracy, to let him know that she'd recorded footage from his grandfather's trek out to the park during the night. He responded that he'd received it, and would do an in-depth analysis of the video, as well as enhance the images and any audio that had been recorded.

She texted Chase with her thoughts, adding, _I'll suggest he see a doctor about his symptoms. He never had them before. There has to be a reason they're appearing now._

Chase answered immediately. _That's an idea. If the problem is organic, the doctor will suggest a course of treatment. It's also possible he was hiding it from Grams. The last few months before she passed, they slept in separate bedrooms._

 _Sorry to hear that. I have another idea as well._

 _Oh?_

 _He's up. Gotta go._

Natasha heard no such thing, but didn't want to get into a long debate about the merits or ethics of her idea. She returned to the bedroom, going down on her knees next to the bed where Bucky was on his stomach, head turned toward her. Keeping her voice soft, yet firm, she spoke to him.

"Bucky, can you hear me?" There was no response at first. Then he rolled over onto his back.

"Yes."

Relieved that it seemed to be working, she took a breath, and let it out. "Later today, we're going to suggest we go for a drive. We'll stop at the Java Junction, and instead of your usual, order a grande cinnamon dolce latte. Do you understand?" He took a few breaths, but didn't answer. "Bucky?"

"I understand."

"Good." She brushed the hair from his forehead, and pressed a kiss there. As she circled the end of the bed, she removed her robe, tossed it in the chair, and climbed in next to Bucky. He draped his arm over her stomach and pulled her close without waking up.

~~O~~

Natasha awoke with a start, uncertain what had disturbed her sleep. Rising up on her elbows, she searched the room, stretching her hearing to its fullest, hearing only the usual sounds of the house. Bucky was gone, and she was lying on his side of the bed.

Rushing to get dressed, Natasha wondered how he could've gotten up without her knowing. She never slept so deeply that her instincts didn't alert her to changes in her environment. The slight rise in temperature when a warm body entered her space, the cooling when someone left, the nearly inaudible creak of a loose floorboard, the scuff of a shoe or even bare feet on the floor or carpet.

She snatched up her phone to check for alerts. The only item was a text from Chase telling her he found nothing unusual on the recording she sent him. Because she would only be alerted if Bucky went out while she was asleep, that meant he was still at home.

Putting on a smile, Natasha made her way downstairs. The scent of coffee drew her to the kitchen where she found dishes in the sink. What Bucky called a snack would be enough to keep her going all day. Shaking her head, she went in search of the man of the house.

As she neared his home office, she heard music, the sound comforting, letting her know that Bucky felt better after the night he experienced. The song was slow and jazzy with the feel of having been recorded early in the last century.

Once again, Natasha searched for a plausible reason for him to drive to the park, stand the dark as if waiting for something or someone then return home. Was he genuinely sleepwalking, and did the park have some significance that he hadn't told her about? Or was something more sinister going on? She pondered the possibilities, and made the decision to keep a sharp eye out for other odd occurrences.

She rapped lightly on the office door. There was a long pause, and the distinctive tones of the computer shutting down, the only indication that he heard her until he said, " _Come in_."

Natasha opened the door. Sitting at his desk, Bucky smiled and reached out a hand. She took it, letting him pull her onto his lap. "I've told you before, Tasha, you don't have to knock."

"Didn't want to disturb your concentration. Are you done?"

He looked at the blank monitor in mild confusion. "It's nothing important." His smile returned. "Let's drive down to the park, and take a walk through the garden. The flowers are blooming. It's an amazing sight this time of year."

"Sounds incredible." Bucky stood when she did, and she gripped his hand. "I'll get my shoes."

~~O~~

As he drove past the Java Junction, Bucky got a sudden craving for coffee. He signaled and turned into the parking lot. Natasha met him at the front of the SUV, taking his hand as they went inside.

Natasha appropriated the love seat that looked out over a garden. "I'll have a green tea with honey, please. Hot."

At the counter, the barista looked at him as if he were an annoyance rather than someone who helped pay his salary. Still, Bucky smiled, and thanked the young man.

The store was nearly empty, and their order was ready within minutes. He carried the cups to the love seat and sat down next to Natasha, handing over one of the cups. She took a sip, and seemed confused. "What is this?"

"A grande cinnamon dolce latte. That's what you ordered, isn't it? Or did I get it wrong?"

Despite her smile and nodded, Bucky felt that more lurked behind it than simple gratitude. She seemed relieved and annoyed at the same time, which didn't make sense. "Ready for that walk?"

Natasha set her cup on the table and turned slightly toward him in the seat, her knee pressed against his thigh. A drop of the coffee drink clung to her lip, and he leaned forward to kiss it away, taking much longer than necessary. When they parted, the curious look in her eyes was gone. Her left hand came up to brush the hair from his forehead, continuing around his ear and down to his neck, tickling. "I have a better idea."

His expression brightened. "I'm intrigued. Tell me."

Her smile was soft and tender as she stood, holding out her hand. "Come. I'll show you."

 **SHIELD Triskelion**

 **Comm Center**

Steve watched Maria scroll through the information that Klein had located on Peggy's family. The only thing missing detailed information on some of the younger members. Two had no name or photo. They simply said, "Nephew, age 31" and "Niece, age 30".

"That's it?"

Klein pushed the headset off, letting it hang around his neck, and stood. "Yes, ma'am. Except for the ex-husband of one of Carter's daughter's going to jail for non-payment of child support and alimony, a bankruptcy on her husband's side of the family, and traffic violations, the family's clean. Of course, I only went back as far as her parents, Harrison and Amanda Carter. Um, there was one more thing, but I didn't think it pertinent to your investigation."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Klein. Out with it."

"When Agent Carter joined the British Royal Military, she lied about her age. She gave her birth date as April 9, 1919. Her actual birth year was 1922, making her seventeen, not twenty as she stated on her enlistment papers."

Maria crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. "In other words nothing to write home about."

The young man flicked his eyes from Maria to Steve and back, almost as if he were expecting a different response. "No, ma'am."

Steve turned away from the enormous monitor on the far wall, hands shoved in his pockets. He paced three steps, turned and huffed. From the corner of his eyes, Steve saw Maria send Klein back to his workstation.

He needed to be alone for a while. Without acknowledging their efforts, he left the comm center, taking the stairs down to the underground parking. He hopped on the bike, and roared away from the cold, impersonal edifice. He drove until the bike needed refueling, filled the tank, got a coffee, and donut then got back on the bike, and rode some more.

~~O~~

Seconds after the door closed behind Steve the space next to Maria was filled with another presence, a young blonde woman wearing a dark grey pants suit with a white blouse. The badge clipped to her lapel gave her real name as well as the code name she used when undercover. The women communicated silently for several minutes, until Maria noticed that Klein was staring.

"Help you with something, Klein?"

"Uh, no, ma'am." He went back to work, occasionally casting a quick glance at the blonde. She returned his interest with a questioning glance, and he eventually went back to work.

The agent crossed her arms as her eyes skimmed the information on the monitor. "Orders, Commander?"

Maria lifted her chin. "Same as before." She didn't have to see or hear her underling's acceptance to know her orders would be followed to the letter. However, the young agent stayed at her side. "Should I repeat that, Agent?"

She seemed reluctant to speak on what was bothering her. Instead, she shook her head. "No, ma'am."

Executing a sharp about face, she exited through the same secret door that had gained her entrance to this inner sanctum of SHIELD.

 **The Lockwood Home**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

"Are you sure you want to be there? I'm sure Steve will understand if you don't want to come," Carolyn Lockwood told Joi over the pile of red, white, and blue party decorations on the table between them.

"Mom, we've been _over_ this. Steve and I are on a break, at least until the show is over. We're still friends, and Gramps is his best friend. It would be more awkward if I didn't go. Besides, I don't want to miss the traditional Fourth of July barbecue."

In the back yard, her father was relaxing in the hammock under a tree, their dog, Scamp asleep nearby. There would be no help from that quarter. Her mother shook her head. "I don't understand why you're on a break in the first place. Your father and I never did anything like that. What did he do?"

"He didn't _do_ anything, and neither did I." It was a small lie; one Joi knew she could get away with. "I'm busy with the restaurant, and the show. Steve has work, and the exhibit. Not to mention an old friend of his died not too long ago. He needed some space."

"What if you get back together? If you get married, is he going to need space on a regular basis? Will he run off, and leave you and your kids to fend for yourself every six months?"

Joi huffed angrily at her mother. "That's _enough_ , Mom. Starting now, any and all conversations that have to do with Steve's and my relationship are forbidden. Got it? And don't discuss it with anyone else, including Dad. If you do, I'll know."

There was a long moment of tense silence. Then her mother ventured, "So, are you seeing someone else?" Joi shot Carolyn a sharp look, and she shrugged. "You didn't say I couldn't ask about other men." She reached for a glass of iced tea, took a long sip, and set it on the coaster. "Sue me. I want to be a grandmother. Serenity and Collin told me they're not having children. Neither of your brothers are in any kind of relationship. That leaves you."

It was time to tell her mother a few home truths, in spite of the fact that she'd be heartbroken. "I'm not even sure I want kids, Mom. If something comes of the show, I'll be busier with my career than ever. There won't be time for a family. At least not for a while."

After a long moment, Carolyn took a deep breath and let it out. "What about getting a pet so I at least have a grand-dog or cat to spoil rotten?"

Joi looked up, surprised that her mother was taking the news so well. Their eyes met, and they burst out laughing.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Sitting on the sofa, Natasha and Bucky stared wide-eyed at the oblong crates on the coffee table, somewhat stunned at the turn of events. Through the metal bars, five sets of eyes stared back, mostly with annoyance that they hadn't yet been let out. All but one pierced the air with growls and high-pitched meows. Each carrier had a name on it.

Left to right, Natasha read the names again.

Archie was a 12-pound, orange and white domestic shorthair with a calm demeanor. He gave her a slow blink, and mewed. The shelter attendant called the orange color ginger.

Next to Archie came Rufus, an exotic shorthair, also ginger, weighing in at around eight pounds. He had bright orange eyes, extra-long white whiskers, and an adorable flat face.

In the middle carrier, a black and white tuxedo cat by the name of Ryder hunched in the back, refusing to associate himself with his inferiors, namely all humans since his owner abandoned him at the shelter for no other reason than he didn't want him around after his wife walked out. The attendant told them that, in the weeks that he'd been at the shelter, Ryder had eaten infrequently, and slept more than normal, even for a cat. When taken to the cat room, he avoided the other cats, often curling up in a corner by himself or staring out the window. Natasha hoped that being in a loving home surrounded by other cats would turn his life around.

The last two carriers held sisters Priscilla, a calico, and Penelope, a ginger tabby, both shorthairs were complaining about their mistreatment louder than the males.

"Five cats, James." Natasha shook her head. " _How_ did we end up with _five_ cats when we were only going to get _one_?"

"Because _I_ couldn't resist those faces," he gestured at the carriers, "and _you_ can't resist this one."

He pointed to his sweet, endearing, excited little boy grin, and Natasha had to admit he was right on both counts. Rufus stuck his paw through the bars, and cried pitifully. She wiggled her finger in his face and he rubbed his cheeks on it. "Ready to release the felines? It's like releasing the hounds, but with teeth and claws."

"Whenever you are. They can get to know the layout of the house while we put together the cat trees, and find places for the litter boxes." Together, they turned the carriers around, unhooked the latches, and pulled their hands out of the way as the cats sprang from their confines, and disappeared in ten different directions, or so it seemed.

"I say we let them get used to being here before introducing them to strangers. Next week we can invite everyone over to meet the new members of the family."

Bucky pulled her against his side, and kissed the top of her head. "Perfect." He looked at the pile of bags from a local pet store. "Should we have gotten them beds?"

Shaking her head, Natasha showed him photos she found of cats _not_ sleeping in the beds their humans bought, using the boxes they came in instead. "We could make up one of the extra bedrooms for them. A couple of cat trees, window seats, litter boxes, lots of toys, and leave the bed for them to sleep on. Oh, and according to the same website, we shouldn't let them outside unsupervised. It suggests we build a catio. That's a screened in patio for cats."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go get the tools for the trees while you put out water and food. Jacob's a contractor. He'll help with that catio thing."

He jumped up and hurried out to the garage through the door in the den. Natasha shook her head as she unpacked the bags, and bowls, lining them up in the corner of the kitchen where no one would trip over them. He really was just a big kid most of the time. He reminded her of Clint, and his big kid ways, playing pranks and games. Yet there was no one she'd rather have at her side in a fight. During the invasion, she had a glimpse of what it would be like to have Clint as an enemy, working against her, and didn't like the picture it painted. With a sigh, she opened the cabinets under the kitchen counter to rearrange the contents so it would accommodate the bags and cans of food for their "children".

Over the months that she and Bucky had been living together, Natasha came to know him well. And despite his upbeat attitude, he was troubled by his current situation. The memory lapses bothered him the most. In her opinion, they needed an expert in the vagaries of the human condition.

Touching her back pocket for her phone, Natasha went upstairs to check out the bedrooms, to see which would be best for the cats. She chose the smallest and farthest from the stairs. Closing the door, she took out her phone, scrolled her contact list, and hit speed dial. "It's Natasha. I need a favor, but it has to stay between us. No one else can know, especially Stark."

The voice on the other end warmed her heart with his kindness. " _Of course. Anything._ "

"I'll text you the address. Bring everything you need to do a basic physical on an adult male."

" _When?_ "

Natasha took a deep breath and let it out. "Seven-ish Saturday morning?"

She heard his footsteps, and a moment later, those unidentifiable sounds that came with working in a lab cut off as he closed the door to his office. " _Perfect. I'll need to take blood, and it has to be fasting for certain tests._ " He paused as if working out how to express his thoughts, though Natasha knew different. " _What's this about, Natasha?_ "

"When you get here. I appreciate your help, Bruce." Bucky's voice called to her as he came up the stairs. She hit end, quickly turned off the ringer just in case, and shoved the phone into her pocket again.

" _Natasha?_ " She snatched up several knick-knacks from the bureau just as Bucky opened the door. "Wanna help put the cat trees together?"

"Sure. I thought I'd put away all the breakables before letting the cats in." Natasha waved at the room in general. "Anything you want to keep?"

He moved into the center of the room, and she sensed his mood had changed. "This was my room. The last few months before she died, she had trouble sleeping. To keep from disturbing me at night, we slept apart. Told her it wasn't necessary, but she insisted. I let her have the master bedroom so she wouldn't have to walk down the hall to the bathroom."

Not having been in this room before, Natasha had no idea of its history. "I'm sorry, _lyubimaya_. We'll choose another room."

"No, it's fine. Anything of sentimental value was moved to the attic. Everything else is just junk." He put his hands on her waist to bring her close. "She loved cats, but was allergic. She'd be happy that we used it as the cat's bedroom."

Natasha laid her hands on Bucky's shoulders. "You're sure?"

His lopsided grin was sincere. "Absolutely."

"I don't want Carolyn to think I'm trying to erase her mother's memory."

Bucky's arms moved up to pull her against his chest. "If my daughter knew you like I do she would know it's not in your nature. You're much too kind and considerate to do anything so cruel." Natasha was about to refute that statement, but he stopped her with a quick squeeze, a slight tightening of his hold before releasing her. "Not another word."

Out in the hall, they stood still as one by one, the cats cautiously crested the top step, sniffing everything within an inch of its life. As Natasha suspected, Priscilla and Penelope were in the lead. Rufus came next, with Archie behind him, looking as if he were out for a casual stroll. It came as no surprise when Ryder brought up the rear, giving the impression that he was only humoring the others by coming along.

Apparently, they'd decided that it was all for one, and one for all, because the other cats waited for Ryder to join them before continuing their exploration. It seemed that he was still on the fence about his new home and the fact that he now had "siblings".

The first room on the inspection tour was the master bedroom. Ryder stopped in the doorway, giving them a disdainful stare before stalking into the room with his nose and tail in the air.

Keeping her voice low, Natasha leaned close to Bucky. "I've asked a friend to come by Saturday."

"I'm finally going to meet one of your cohorts besides Steve? That's cause for celebration."

His sarcasm wasn't lost on her. "He's an extraordinarily gifted doctor. I'd like you to describe your symptoms, and let him take some blood."

"Hmph. He's not another psychologist, is he? I have an appointment this week with the other one."

"He has degrees in several scientific fields, including medicine, though none in psychology. When we first met, he was providing medical care for those who couldn't afford it. I was sent to recruit him for a special project."

The last of the cats vanished into the master bedroom, making it safe for them to take the stairs. "Did this special project have anything to do with the invasion?"

"Ultimately, yes." She didn't elaborate, and Bucky didn't ask. He knew better.

They went downstairs where he had the parts to the first cat tree spread out on the floor with the directions displayed on the plasma screen. The next few hours were filled with constructing cat trees, and placing them strategically around the house, as well as finding the optimal positions for the cat boxes.

Eventually, the cats came to see what they were doing, assisting in a supervisory capacity by walking over and around the pieces, sniffing everything. Ryder was the lone holdout. He jumped up on the entertainment center in front of the plasma screen, looking down on them like a king overseeing his subjects.

 **Undisclosed Location**

 **Somewhere in the Washington D.C. Area**

"Our superiors are quite pleased with your performance on our last few projects." The man speaking stood in the shadows, effectively hiding his identity.

"Thank you. The situation is helped immensely by the fact that the asset has voluntarily agreed to the sessions." The man known as Edgar Heath sensed surprise from his companion.

The man shifted his feet. "A willing subject always facilitates the programming already in place."

"Indeed it does. His mind is quite extraordinary. He's intelligent, well-trained, and not by us. His performances over the years before I took over were exemplary. Rumors abound in the intelligence community. However, no one can say for certain that he exists. Anyone who witnessed him carrying out a mission has always been eliminated."

The other man paced left and stopped, one hand raised. "That's not entirely true. But as those individuals would likely not be believed, they were permitted to live in order to deepen the mystery surrounding the asset." He paused to light a thin cigar, expelling the smoke in a long stream.

"His most recent mission was flawless. However, the one scheduled for next week may have to be delayed, unless there is another asset we can call in."

"Explain."

"He was followed to the rendezvous point the other night."

Another cloud of smoke filled the air, swirled by the air currents. "By whom?"

Heath shifted in his seat, feeling the unsettling gaze for the first time. "He now has a woman living with him. Prior to the death of his spouse, it took but a simple post-hypnotic suggestion during one of her frequent doctor visits for her to remove herself from his nightly presence so his nocturnal roaming would go unnoticed."

"I sense a 'but'."

"However, the woman he now shares his bed with will not be so easily swayed." Pausing for dramatic effect, Heath whispered a name that struck fear in the hearts of many who were aware of her reputation. "The Black Widow."

The other man paced to the other side of the room and back, still in shadows. "How is it possible?"

"From what he's told me during our sessions, they became acquainted when she took Rogers to see him a few weeks after he was found in the ice. They've been an item ever since. She only just recently moved into the house." His next words wouldn't be easily accepted, but there was no choice. His superior had to know. "It was she who suggested that he seek professional help for his headaches and nightmares. I attempted to implant the concept of ending their romantic alliance, but he is opposed to the idea so strongly that he became agitated, and unwilling to respond to further suggestions of any nature. The session had to be terminated."

"It's not important. He won't be needed as the asset for much longer."

"How will we complete our plan?"

He looked at his watch, puffed once more on the cigar, dropped it to the floor, and crushed it under his heel. "There is another who will be taking his place. Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA." Though confused, Heath checked the time as well, and when he looked up again, his companion was gone as if he'd never been there. The only evidence of his former presence was the lingering smell of the cigar.

 **TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 21**

The alarm went off, jerking Bucky out of a sound sleep in which he dreamt of being covered by layer upon layer of sentient fuzzy blankets. When he tried to move, he found that his dream had bled into reality, sort of. The cats were sleeping on him, all but Ryder, who was stretched out on Natasha's side of the bed, the ten-pound cat somehow taking up the entire space. One by one, he moved the cats off to the accompaniment of grunts and meows of protest, especially Archie, and got out of bed.

On the bathroom mirror, he found a note from Natasha saying she would be back by dinner time. Her being gone worked in his favor. He had to go to the office for a meeting with Steve, Gail, and Max regarding continued publicity for the exhibit. Meet and greets, photo ops, autograph signing, Q&A. It had taken all Bucky's persuasive power to convince his friend that it would be of benefit to the museum by bringing in donors as well as increasing attendance.

When the meeting was over, Bucky had paperwork to catch up on then he could take the rest of the day off. He made a note to stop at the grocery store. It was his turn to make dinner, and though he hadn't slept well during the night, he refused to order out again, or ask Natasha to take his turn.

After his shower, he dressed, checked that the cats had been fed, got in the SUV and headed into town. He stopped at the Java Junction near the museum, going inside instead of waiting in the long drive-thru line.

Bucky picked up his order, two vente dark roasts, no cream or sugar, one for him and the other for Steve. As he headed for the door, he saw a familiar face come in and take her place in line. Holding the cup carrier in his left hand, he tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me."

The woman turned an unreadable light blue gaze on him. "Yes?"

"We have a mutual friend. Steve Rogers." Her eyes didn't leave his face, yet Bucky got the impression of having been given the most thorough once-over even. "You were at the exhibit dedication. Steve pointed you out, but didn't introduce us." He extended his right hand. "James Barnes."

Though small compared to his, her grip was strong. "Maria Hill. Captain Rogers and I are co-workers."

"Yes, he told me." In Maria's eyes, Bucky saw that she knew he knew of their other, more personal relationship. "I believe you may know my girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff."

"I do."

Bucky nodded. "Natasha and I are hosting a Fourth of July barbeque at our home. It's also a birthday party for Steve. Would you like to come?"

The line moved, and he followed along, awaiting her answer. She nodded. "I would, General Barnes."

He took out his phone, and beamed the address to hers, gripped in her other hand. It beeped, and she looked at the display.

"Arrive any time after ten. We usually start eating around noon or so, and don't stop until we run out of food. But don't worry. That never happens."

"Looking forward to it. Can I bring anything?"

One shoulder twitched up a fraction of an inch. "If you have any special dietary needs, or want something to drink besides beer, soft drinks, juice, milk or water, feel free to bring it. Otherwise, the pleasure of your company will do. We play outdoor, board, and video games, do a sing-a-long in the evening, and watch fireworks after dark. You can see them from the back yard. Somewhere in there, we'll have Steve blow out the candles on a cake, and open gifts."

"I'll keep that in mind, General. You do know Captain Rogers doesn't like a big fuss?"

Grinning sheepishly, Bucky shrugged again. "What's a best friend for if not to embarrass you now and then?" The line moved again, and it was Maria's turn. "We'll see you on the Fourth then, Ms. Hill."

~~O~~

On his way to the door, Steve slipped into his jacket and grabbed the bike keys off the table. He switched out the light, and stepped into the hall just as Kate was locking her door. She had a purse hooked over one shoulder, and a lunch bag dangling from the other hand.

"Morning."

Her smile, usually somewhat welcoming, held a touch of wariness today. "Morning. You're out and about early today."

"Meeting downtown." He gestured for her to go ahead of him and came along side as they descended the stairs. Not once had he seen anyone entering or leaving her apartment, male or female, aside from the super. To him, she seemed lonely, and that gave him an idea. "Kate, what are you doing for Fourth of July?"

"Not much. It's my only day off that week, and my family lives too far away to drive down for the day. You?"

Steve opened the front door, and followed her out. "My friend is hosting a barbeque, and I was wondering if you'd like to go. Just as a friend."

Kate seemed about to refuse then she smiled. "Then as a friend, I accept."

"We can ride together, if you like." Her car was parked next to his, and they stopped between them. "Kate, about the other morning… That wasn't what it looked like."

One side of her mouth turned up. "It looked like a friend stayed the night because you were up late watching a movie."

Crossing his arms, Steve tried to determine if she was being sarcastic or not. "So you don't think…"

Her hand went into a pocket, coming out with her keys. "That you're sleeping around? Of course not, Steve. Men and women can be friends without sex being involved." Kate jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "I gotta go, or I'll get stuck in cross-town traffic."

Relieved, Steve waved as Kate pulled out of the parking lot. When he and Bucky were teens, his friend always said that women and men couldn't be friends without sex. Steve never believed it himself. The best part of any relationship is learning about the other person, being a friend, before becoming more, if the two of you were headed in that direction. And that brought Joi to mind. He hoped having Kate there wouldn't create an awkward situation between them though he didn't see how it could. The split with Joi was mutual and cordial. Now if Joi brought her new guy, then it would get uncomfortable.

He kick-started the bike, revved the engine, and pulled into traffic, mentally berating himself for thinking about Joi when he should be enjoying the single life without really knowing what that meant. Maybe it was time to talk to Bucky. He thought about speaking with Natasha, but it was easier for him to talk to a guy about women than a woman.

Up ahead, the museum's imposing edifice loomed, casting a shadow over the front entrance. Steve showed his ID at the security gate, and found a place for the Indian. He shut it down, and took the stairs up to the conference room two at a time. Bucky, Gail and Max were already there. He slid into a seat, and Bucky pushed a coffee cup over to him, whispering, "You're late."

Steve scowled at his friend, and took a long drink while Gail passed out several sheets of paper without leaving her seat.

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," Max said by way of calling the meeting to order. "In front of you is the proposed dates for the publicity push to increase attendance between now and the end of summer. Let's go over it, and choose which dates and times work out best for everyone. The dates highlighted in yellow have already been approved by security. Now all we have to do is get everyone on the same page. Questions before we begin?"

 **Office of Dr.** **Edgar Heath**

 **Psychologist**

Heath settled into his chair across from Bucky, adjusted the glasses he didn't really need while going over his notes from their previous session. The recording of what had transpired would never be seen by Bucky, or any court of law. Only the official text would see the light of day, and law enforcement would have to supply a subpoena to get them. "How have you been feeling, Mr. Barnes?"

He rubbed his forehead. "So-so. The headaches are coming more frequently-got one now, and my girlfriend says I'm sleepwalking. Never did it as a child. Why would I do it now?"

"That's what we're here to find out." From the side pocket of his chair, Heath took out a stuffed grey wolf. It had a round body, pointed ears, and four paws hanging from the body, with a star-shaped patch on its face in lighter grey. Heath had it especially made to be unique. There wasn't another one like it in the world. "James, do you want to see the wolf?"

Bucky reached for it, hugging it to him like a child with a favorite toy, his eyes drifting shut as soft music played in the background. The same tune over and over.

"Breathe in deeply now, James, filling your chest and lungs," Heath breathed in as well, followed by an exhalation and the words, "Slowly let the air out of your chest, completely emptying your lungs." Bucky did as requested.

A Mexican politician known for his stance of zero tolerance for the drug cartels running rampant in his country had become popular with the citizens, and during the campaigns for the upcoming presidential election, he led with 52% of possible votes.

Needless to say, this did not set well with the cartels, or those high-ranking officials who counted on payoffs to keep their lifestyles intact. And to keep those addicted off balance, the drug had to continue to find its way into the U.S. Or that _had_ been the next mission. Heath's superiors made the decision to eliminate two of the few people who might be instrumental in thwarting their plans.

Holding up a photo of a man, he spoke softly, "When you receive the signal, you will locate and eliminate this target." Bucky said nothing, though his brow furrowed, fighting him again. It began happening not long after the announcement of Rogers' plane being found, and only got worse after Bucky became involved with the Black Widow. Each time he'd been programmed to carry out a mission, he fought against it to the point that the headaches had started. The dreams began to manifest at that time as well.

Heath grabbed the stuffed animal and pulled it from Bucky's grasp. He whined like a child, reaching out for it. "You will do as you're told, or the wolf will go away, and you'll never see it again."

Bucky lunged for it, clutching it to his chest with a defiant glare. Heath held up the photos once more. "What will you do when you receive the signal, James?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I-I…" His arms tightened on the wolf to the point that Heath thought it might burst, considering his impressive strength, spewing the stuffing all over the room. "Locate and eliminate the target."

"Wear the mask. Do not allow yourself to be seen. If there are witnesses, eliminate them as well. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Bucky's voice sounded distant, as if heard through a door slightly ajar.

The next step was the orders from his superior regarding the girlfriend. "Your woman has been lying to you. She is being unfaithful with someone close to her, a co-worker perhaps. Remind her, and the men in her orbit that she is _your_ woman, and no one else's. Monitor her comings and goings closely, and draw your conclusions from there. When you bring it up, she will deny everything. But don't believe her. She's done nothing but lie to you from the beginning. Remember that."

Bucky became agitated at the thought that Romanoff would be untrue, and Heath rushed to calm him. "I'm going to count from five down to one. When the count reaches one, you will be feeling wide awake, fully alert, and completely refreshed, and your headache will be gone."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

 **Saturday Morning**

The doorbell rang, and Natasha rushed to answer it, knowing who it would be. She let Bruce in, taking one of the cases he was carrying. He followed her to the kitchen where she had coffee ready, sliding into one of the seats at the counter.

"Thanks for coming, Bruce." Natasha poured coffee, and pushed the cup over to him.

The scientist sipped from the cup, and returned it to the counter, turning it side to side. "It wasn't easy getting out of Stark Tower without Tony finding out."

"How _did_ you?"

One side of his mouth turned up. "I had someone on the inside."

"Jarvis?"

Silently, Natasha offered Bruce something to eat. He shook his head. "He's also doing the labs for us. The information will be encrypted for my eyes only." He took another sip of coffee. "Wanna tell me why I'm here?"

"James has been having headaches, nightmares, and bouts of sleepwalking." Natasha came around the counter to sit next to Bruce. "His doctors haven't found an organic cause. I'm hoping you'll find something they missed."

"We could do a sleep study. I have prototype equipment with me. No techs going in and out of your room all night long." Bruce stopped with the cup almost to his mouth when Priscilla and Penelope loudly announced their presence. "What the hell? You didn't tell me you had a couple of cats."

Grinning, Natasha reached down to pick up one of the cats, and rub her neck, making her purr. "I _don't_ have a couple of cats."

Bruce held out a finger, letting the calico take a sniff. She must've found him acceptable because she wiggled until Natasha loosened her hold, and walked onto his lap, pawing his hand until he stroked her under the chin. "Then what's this?"

"These are _two_ cats. We have _five_. You're holding Priscilla." Natasha picked up the ginger. "And she's Penelope. They're sisters. The others are Archie, Ryder and Rufus."

Bruce had no comment. He just held Priscilla while rubbing her ears as if he'd forgotten she was there. "O-kay. Back to James and his problems."

"Why not go to the source?" Natasha and Bruce turned at the sound of Bucky's voice coming from the stairs. He came to her side, gave her a kiss, and ran a finger between Penelope's then Priscilla's eyes.

The rest of the cats stopped at the bottom of the stairs to give Bruce a long distance perusal. Bruce put the cat on the floor, and stood to shake Bucky's hand. "Bruce Banner."

"James Barnes."

"Glad to finally meet you, General."

Bucky nodded with a smile. "And you, Dr. Banner."

Natasha backed up and faded into the background while the men talked. She gathered the food bowls, and went to fill them with the dry nuggets recommended by the shelter.

Once the men had gone upstairs and closed the bedroom door, the cats ran to her clamoring for attention, and she gave it to them. As always, Ryder hung back until Natasha brought his dish to him. Each day, she set it a little closer to the others. In a week or so, hopefully he would join his siblings at meal time instead of acting like an outsider.

When she'd seen him on the cat patio at the shelter staring out the window as if waiting for his former owner to come back, Natasha knew she had to give him a loving home, to let him know that not everyone would abandon him. In doing research on tuxedo cats, she found that they were considered aloof. The same had been said of her at one time. If she could change, so could Ryder. James helped her. Now she would help Ryder.

~~O~~

Bucky had moved the items on the vanity out of the way so Bruce would have plenty of room for his equipment. He slipped on a pair of wire framed glasses, and opened the cases, taking out what he needed to take Bucky's vitals, temperature, pulse, respiration, blood pressure.

"Have a seat, General," Bruce told him, nodding at the foot of the bed.

"Please call me James, Bruce."

Feeling he was being watched, Bruce glanced over his shoulder, and nodded. "Take off your shirt, please."

While Bucky did that, Bruce went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He dried on the hand towel, and returned to put on gloves. "I've had a look at your medical history. Impressive."

One side of Bucky's mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. "Wish I could take credit, but it was Zola's doing. I only remember some of what he did to me, yet I see the results every day when I don't wake up dead, or suffering from a variety of chronic conditions that come with old age."

To make conversation while he affixed wireless transmitters to Bucky's temples and chest, Bruce asked, "How did you and Natasha meet?"

"She came to my office at the museum to bring me something I thought I'd lost seventy years ago."

"Steve?" Bucky nodded, looking down at his lap. "Hold still while I calibrate the sensors." He was quiet while Bruce made adjustments based on Bucky's physiology, creating a program to compare the readings to the information he'd gotten from the VA doctors who'd been studying him all these decades. "Done. Relax, but stay seated."

"How did you meet her?"

The tone of Bucky's voice told Bruce there was more to the question than making small talk. "She found me in Calcutta. Why?"

"Curious."

In the mirror, Bruce could see Bucky eying him. It was almost as if he sensed something more than friendship was going on between he and Natasha. Time to put a stop to that line of thought. He tapped at the tablet, entering his own observations as well as the readings from the sensors. "Natasha's spoken about you. She plays it close to the vest most of the time. It's hard to get a read on what she's thinking."

Bucky shook his head, and chuckled lightly. "Not a minute after we met, she sort of admitted to the same attraction I felt."

"How long before she told you the truth about her job?"

"Our first date." He looked at Bruce curiously. "Have you and she ever…"

Bruce made adjustments on the tablet as he went back to his equipment. He removed the gloves on the way to the bathroom to wash again, speaking as he put on fresh gloves. "Ever what? Talked? Many times. I'm sure she's told you about New York." Bucky nodded. "I didn't agree to help SHIELD find the Tesseract because she used her womanly wiles on me."

Carrying a small case, Bruce dragged the vanity chair over to the bed. When he saw the vacuum tubes, and syringes, Bucky presented his left arm. "You don't think she's attractive?"

"Nothing could be farther from the truth, James. Natasha is _stunning_. But it was the scientific aspect that convinced me to return to the US." As he wrapped a tourniquet around his left bicep, he noticed faint lines the curved around his arm. The ones on his forearm weren't as noticeable, but they were there. Setting the equipment aside, he turned Bucky's arm over. "What's this?"

"Don't know. They appear every few weeks, and take a while to go away."

Bruce removed his gloves to run a finger over the marks. "Do they hurt? Itch? Scab over?"

"No. None of that." Cocking his head to the side, Bucky turned thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, they seem to appear after I go sleepwalking, but only the times I'm told I was gone for most of the night."

Bruce went back to the vanity. "Do you mind if I take a swab?"

"If it'll help, yeah. And take all the blood you need, Bruce. I want to figure this out more than _you_ do."

Of that, Bruce had no doubt. He replaced the gloves with fresh ones, swabbed the deepest of the grooves then took three small tubes of blood. They went into a case, and the electronic lock was engaged. Not that a mere lock would deter Tony if he really wanted to break in. Bruce only hoped he could get the samples to Jarvis without his friend finding out.

 **Office of Dr.** **Edgar Heath**

 **Psychologist**

 **The Following Monday**

Heath settled into his chair across from his patient. So that no one would know he'd been here, he had the man come after dark once his assistant had gone for the day. "How have you been feeling?"

"Not bad. Pretty good, actually."

"Glad to hear it." From the side pocket of his chair, Heath took out a stuffed grey wolf. It had a round body, pointed ears, and four paws hanging from the body, with a star-shaped patch on its face in lighter grey. Heath had it especially made to be unique. There wasn't another one like it in the world. "Do you want to see the wolf?"

The man reached for it, his eyes drifting shut, as he held it against his chest.

"Breathe in deeply, filling your chest and lungs with oxygen," Heath breathed in as well, followed by an exhalation and the words, "Slowly let the air out, completely emptying your lungs." His charge did as requested.

Holding up a photo of a woman, he spoke softly, "When you receive the signal, you will locate and eliminate this target. Understood?"

This subject had been much easier to influence than the other, his mind more pliable. He nodded. "Understood."

"And wear the mask you were given. You are not to allow yourself to be seen. If there are witnesses, eliminate them as well. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

Heath held up the photos once more. "What will you do when you receive the signal?"

His arms tightened on the wolf as he took a deep breath and let it out. "Locate and eliminate the target."

"Excellent." Heath nodded, satisfied with the results. "I'm going to count from five down to one. When the count reaches one, you will be feeling wide awake, fully alert, and completely refreshed."

A few minutes later, he watched from the window as the new asset-the one who would replace James Barnes once he was "retired"-got in his car and drove away.

 **TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

**Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 22**

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington, D.C.**

 **July 4** **th**

The outside of the house had been tastefully decorated in red, white, and blue lights, streamers, and of course, the American flag hanging by the front door. Music, laughter, and the babble of many voices poured out the open front door.

As they got closer, they could see a sign in the window: _Happy Birthday, Steve!_

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday."

Grinning sheepishly, Steve twitched his shoulders. "Yeah, well, after the first eighty you kinda stop counting."

Kate laughed. "I imagine so. We'll see how I feel about it when _I_ get there."

He loved listening to women laugh, even the ones who snorted, like Joi. The only sound he liked better was a baby's laugh.

His ex-girlfriend had apparently arrived early because she managed to snag a parking space in front of the house, while Steve and Kate had to walk over a block. To one side of the driveway sat a total of four bikes. Cars, SUVs, and trucks lined both sides of the street, proving what Steve had always known. That Bucky made friends easily.

As soon as they stepped inside, he heard, "Steve-Steve-Steeeeve!" just before Gracie wrapped her tiny arms around his legs.

Steve picked her up, and she hugged him around the neck. "How's my favorite girl today?"

Her eyes, blue like Bucky's, lit up with excitement. "Mommy says today's your _birfday_ , Steve."

"Mommy's right."

She poked herself in the chest. " _My_ birfday's comin' in a couple weeks. I'm gonna be four!"

"That's _amazing_ , Gracie. You having a party?"

She nodded like a bobble-head doll. "Uh-huh. You wanna come?"

"You bet I do. I'll talk to your mom before you go home." By now, Gracie had lost interest in the subject, and was staring at Kate. "Gracie, this is my friend Kate. Kate, Gracie is Bucky's youngest great-granddaughter."

Kate smiled at the girl, who didn't return the favor. "Hello, Gracie."

Gracie stuck a finger in her mouth, her exuberance gone. "Hi." She wiggled, and Steve put her down, though she kept hold of his hand, motioning him close. He crouched in front of her as she whispered, "Don't you like Aunt Joi no more?"

Just as softly, and with a quick glance at Kate, Steve assured her, "Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"Coz you brought _her_. You're not gonna bring her to my party, are you?"

Relieved, Steve cast a look at Kate who had a hand over her mouth trying not to laugh. "Kate's just a friend. I asked her to come so she wouldn't be alone today."

"Oh. Okay." With that, Gracie raced through the house and out the back door, calling for her mother. Nicole got down in front of her daughter, listening to her rapid-fire speech, and looking at Steve and Kate when she pointed.

Kate crossed her arms, shaking her head. "The word'll spread like wildfire that you're here with someone who's _not_ a girlfriend."

"In retrospect, we should've stayed at the apartments, watched _Yankee Doodle Dandy_ on cable, and went to the pier to watch the fireworks."

"So Joi's your ex?"

Steve rubbed the back of his head to hide his embarrassment. "Yeah. She's also Bucky's granddaughter." A hand slapped him on the back nearly knocking him down.

"You finally made it." To Kate, Bucky said, "This guy hasn't been on time for _anything_ in the last seventy years." He stuck out his hand. "James Barnes. And you are?"

"Kate. I live across the hall from Steve. He took pity on me because I was going to spend the day home alone. Hope you don't mind, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky waved away her unvoiced apology. "James, please, Kate. And the more the merrier." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Drinks, food, and games in the back yard. We also have sunblock, if you need it. Video games in the living room, if that's more your style. There's a bathroom on this floor, and another on the second. First room on the left, top of the stairs."

With a smile, Kate made her way toward the back of the house, and outside. The men waited until she was gone to speak again. Steve's smile turned into a scowl. "What are you _doing_?"

Grinning, Bucky waved his hands. "Just trying to be a good host."

"You sent Kate away like she was a leper. Go apologize."

"How about if _you_ go introduce her around? She's _your_ girlfriend."

"She's just a _friend_ , Bucky. I sometimes help carry her groceries, signed for a couple of packages, and jump started her car once, but that's _it_." Grabbing his friend by the arm, Steve dragged him toward the back yard. "We'll go together so _you_ can make her feel welcome."

On the patio, the men scanned the mass of people looking for Kate. Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder. When he saw where Bucky was pointing, his stomach dropped. At a table outside the rear of the den Kate was sitting with Joi, and Maria. A bottle of beer appeared in front of his face. Steve twisted the top off and took a long swig.

"Bad day for you all around, Stevie." He poked Steve in the chest. "You're ninety-four, and the ex, the Mrs., and the mistress are all in the same place at the same time. Not only that, they're talking."

Steve scowled. "What the hell is Maria Hill doing here, Buck? _I_ didn't invite her."

~~O~~

Letting a smirk creep into his voice, Bucky waved nonchalantly with his bottle. "No, you didn't. _I_ did. Ran into her at Java Junction the other day."

"And you couldn't have given me a little _warning_?"

"What would've been the fun in that? Besides, how was I supposed to know you were bringing a _date_?"

Steve huffed at him, muttering a curse under his breath. "I told you it's not a _date_. Kate didn't have anything planned, so I asked her to come."

The women laughed, and Bucky felt bad for his friend, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it too. "They're probably comparing notes. You might wanna break it up."

Spreading his arms to the side, Steve turned to him. " _How_? I can't tell them _not_ to talk to each other. It's a party, and we're supposed to be having _fun_."

Bucky recognized the expression on Steve's face. He'd seen that same look when his friend was about to have an asthma attack. Time to let him off the hook. "Here's what you do. Go get a volleyball game started, and whatever you do, _don't_ let them play on the same team."

~~O~~

"…I look around and there's me, the maid of honor, and one other single girl. Now remember, I don't know _any_ of these people because they're my boyfriend's co-workers. The bride turns her back, looks over her shoulder to see where the maid of honor is, and throws the bouquet right to her. No one else even had a chance." Kate covered her eyes with one hand. "I was so embarrassed words can't even _begin_ to describe it."

Whether out of politeness, or because they found her story funny, Hill, and the woman Kate had seen Steve with at his apartment, Joi, were laughing as if it were the funniest thing they'd ever heard. She saw Steve headed their way, and went for the gold.

"And don't even get me _started_ on the bride's and the bridesmaids' gowns. They were absolutely _hideous_!"

Just as they were winding down, Steve stopped between her and Hill, tossing a white ball back and forth. "We're getting a volleyball game started. You ladies want to join us?"

~~O~~

Steve tossed the volleyball to Natasha who threw it to Bucky, and so it went around the yard and back to Hill. Michael, the husband of Bucky's youngest daughter, with his foot in a cast, offered to keep score. Olivia got him situated with a pad and a pen, and his foot resting on another chair.

"We need to split up into teams. Bucky and I…"

Natasha snatched the ball from Hill, and stepped forward. "Let's play girls against boys." The others agreed, separating themselves according to gender. "One thing, Steve. You and James can't both be on the team. That would be an unfair advantage."

Bucky shrugged. "She has a point, Steve. What if we switch out?"

The players consulted, and everyone was okay with that idea. Natasha tossed the ball to Steve. "And to show you what good sports we are the _boys_ can serve."

The women gathered in a huddle with Natasha glancing over her shoulder and grinning at the glare Steve shot her way as he moved into position to for the first serve. That grin told him she knew his plan was to split the women up, and she had purposely denied him the relief doing so would bring.

~~O~~

The score was tied with the women serving. Both teams were taking a break to get a drink, the women to talk about the men, or so Natasha wanted Steve to think. In fact, her team had only spoken about the men as their opponents, though it was obvious that Steve-egged on by Bucky-thought otherwise.

The teams returned to play with Joi serving. Natasha and Bucky faced each other through the net. He winked at her, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

Michael had just called for play to begin when Gracie came running out the back door. "Tasha! Can I play too?"

Natasha scooped the child into her arms, holding her close. "Let's ask. Any objections to Gracie joining the game?" There were none. "Which team do you want to be on, _malenkaya_?"

The girl couldn't decide, so they let her switch sides whenever the mood struck until the score was tied again, with only one more play to declare the winner.

Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder to let him know it was time to switch out again, annoying the super-soldier.

"Papa!" Gracie called out as she ran to Bucky. He put her on his shoulders, and took his place at the net. Natasha moved into place, giving him a challenging smirk, which he returned.

Nicole bounced the ball as she moved into place. She held the ball in her left hand preparing to serve, stopping in mid swing when Bucky made a T with his hands. "Whoa. Time out. Gracie wants to be on the girls' team." He put her down, and Gracie ran to Natasha.

Because she was taller, Serenity boosted Gracie on her shoulders, and the play continued. The ball was bandied from side to side without touching the ground or going out of bounds for some time, cheered on by the family and friends gathered to watch.

Natasha winked at Bucky as she hit the ball into the air, and Gracie and Serenity smacked it over the net. Steven James, Jacob, and Bucky ran into each other trying to hit it back. They stumbled, and the ball hit the ground before anyone could recover it, giving the girls the winning point. The teammates double high-fived each other, including Gracie. They left the court to get drinks, and snacks to hold them until Martin, Justin, and Collin were done grilling the burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and veggie burgers.

Bucky snagged Natasha's hand under the net, and pulled her close. "You cheated. I don't know how, but you did."

Sticking her fingers through the net to touch the corners of his mouth, Natasha gave him a sultry smile. "Remember what I told you, _lyubimaya moya_? I _always_ win."

They kissed through the net. Bucky took her hand, and led her to the gazebo swing, pulling her close to his side as he put it into motion with one foot. A few minutes later, Gracie raced through the yard to jump in Bucky's lap. He snuggled her close, and planted a kiss on her cheek.

 **Hours Later**

Most of the food was gone, and a few at a time, those left drifted inside. Steve stood on the patio drinking a beer and watching Natasha, Maria, and Kate talking. Unlike before, their conversation seemed to have deeper connotations. Bucky came up beside him, one hand shoved into a pocket, the other holding a bottle. "What do you think they're talking about, Buck?"

"No clue. You could ask."

Steve shook his head. "Don't want to be nosy."

Bucky waved the hand holding a bottle of water. "Don't sweat it. I'm sure it's nothing."

The women separated, Natasha going inside while Maria and Kate came to the men. Kate had her purse over her right shoulder. "I've had a great time, James, but I need to get home. I have an early shift in the morning."

Draining the last of his beer, Steve pulled his keys out. "I'll take you."

Maria stepped forward. "I have to go too. I'd be happy to drop her off."

Steve looked from one to the other, seeing nothing that might get him into trouble. "If you're sure." Kate nodded with a smile that appeared forced. "I'll walk you out then."

He handed the bottle to Bucky, then ushered the women through the house and out the front door. Maria surprised him by going to one of the bikes parked beside the driveway. No wonder she didn't mind riding the day they went to the nursing home.

Maria handed Kate a helmet, straddled the bike, and put on her own. "Had a great time, Rogers. Thank Barnes for the invite."

"I will." Steve waved as she fired up the bike, waited for Kate to get on and hug her from behind, backed up, and pulled into the street. With a roar, they were gone. He should be relieved, but he wasn't, and didn't know why. Not that he expected Kate and Maria to have a lengthy discussion about him. He'd just feel better if they didn't associate. Throughout the day, he'd noticed Joi speaking with both women, the conversation always breaking up when they saw him coming.

The canned music that had been playing all day cut off, and Steve heard the familiar sound of Justin warming up at the piano. Knowing what was coming, he debated just getting in his car and leaving, but doing so would be unforgivably rude to his best friend and surrogate family. Taking a deep breath, he went back inside, and just as he thought, Joi appeared in front of him with a cake, and those left were singing the birthday song. He let them finish, and blew out the candles, a nine and a four.

While cake and ice cream were being served, Justin entertained the group with several patriotic songs to memorialize the true meaning of the day, taking the focus off Steve.

Justin took a break to devour a huge slice of cake with ice cream, and a cup of coffee while prerecorded music played in the background.

Bucky's son-in-law Martin wasn't feeling well, so Carolyn took him home, but only after Steve assured her that he would supervise the clean-up himself. She smiled her thanks, and left.

Gracie had wanted to stay, but the child had fallen asleep under the piano. Steve carried her to the car for Nicole, strapped her into the car seat, and waved as she drove away.

Most of the family had left by the time Justin finished his second set, and after his break, he got up in front of the few remaining: Joi, Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Serenity, Collin, and Jacob's daughter Mia.

Rubbing his hands together, Justin's gaze raked over the group sitting and standing around the living room. "Now that the old folks are gone, we can have some fun. Karaoke. And to get the ball rolling, I'll go first."

Using the remote, he cued up the music. Steve didn't recognize the song, though it was apparent the others did. Joi and Serenity rushed to join their brother. "Let's hear it for my lovely back-up singers."

Joi stood to Justin's left, and Serenity stood to Joi's left, hands poised to sign.

~~O~~

Justin wanted to wind the group up, get them involved in the sing-a-long. Steve didn't seem the kind of guy who sang to the radio except under extreme conditions. Tonight, Justin hoped to create the right atmosphere to get him to loosen up just a little.

Snapping his fingers to set the beat, Justin and his sisters hit the song running.

 _Does he love me? I want to know  
How can I tell if he loves me so?_

 _(Is it in his eyes?)  
Oh no, you'll be deceived_

 _(Is it in his eyes?)  
Oh no, he'll make believe_

Justin danced around the room, stopping behind Natasha where she sat next to Gramps, rubbing her cheek with his. She laughed, and pushed him away.

 _If you want to know  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
If he loves you so  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
It's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)_

Standing next to Steve, Justin framed his head with both hands, like one of the models on a game show trying to make dish detergent look interesting then flexed his biceps, comparing them to Steve's, and finding them lacking. Steve chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

 _(Or is it in his face?)  
Oh no, it's just his charms_

 _(In his warm embrace?)  
Oh no, that's just his arms_

 _If you want to know  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
If he loves you so  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
It's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)_

 _Oh, it's in his kiss, that's where it is_

Justin stopped next to Collin who, in spite of being deaf, clapped along to the beat. He wrapped him in a hug, and his brother-in-law hugged back. A kiss on the cheek made Collin laugh.

 _Wo-o-oh, hug him and squeeze him tight  
Find out what you want to know_

 _If it's love, if it really is, it's there in his kiss_

 _(How about the way he acts?)  
Oh no, that's not the way  
And you're not listenin' to all I say_

 _If you want to know  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
If he loves you so  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
It's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)  
Oh, it's in his kiss, that's where it is_

Coming around the end of the sofa, Justin sat in his grandfather's lap, hugging him as well, giving him a noisy kiss on the cheek at the end.

 _Wo-o-oh, hug him and squeeze him tight  
Find out what you want to know_

 _If its love, if it really is, it's there in his kiss_

 _(How about the way he acts?)  
Oh no, that's not the way  
And you're not listenin' to all I say_

 _If you want to know  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)  
If he loves you so  
(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop)_

 _It's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)  
Oh, it's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)_

 _Oh yeah, it's in his kiss, that's where it is_

 _It's in his kiss, that's where it is_

As the song ended, Justin returned to Joi and Serenity, the siblings bringing it to a rousing finish.

When the applause died down, Justin waved, and Collin joined them on stage. Joi made her way around to Steve's side, nudging him with her elbow. Steve chuckled and nudged her back.

"Boys, and girls, we're in for a rare treat." Signing, Justin moved to the side, letting his sister and her husband take center stage. "My beautiful sister, and her adoring spouse will now perform _The Sounds of Silence_ , by Simon and Garfunkel.

Justin cued up a video he'd made of deaf students from the school where Serenity and Collin taught, with the lyrics scrolling along the bottom. They faced each other with the screen between them.

Unlike his sister, who had been born deaf, Collin lost his hearing at the age of three due to meningitis. He could speak, and sometimes did. But he preferred signing, and sometimes mouthed the words when doing so. Combined with the visions of the students, and their own _joie de vivre_ , Serenity and Collin presented a graceful exultation of the extraordinary spirits of the hearing impaired.

As the song drew to a close, they drew out the final lines, giving them greater impact.

 _But my words like silent raindrops fell  
And echoed  
In the wells of silence  
_

~~O~~

When the last note had drifted away, Steve raised his hands to clap, but was stopped by Joi. She held her arms up, and shook her hands. He copied her, and the couple came to join them. With Joi's prompting, he signed, _That was amazing._

Serenity smiled, and Collin replied for both of them. _Thank you_.

Again Joi helped Steve sign as he spoke the words. "The song is beautiful. More so with the signing. Like we're seeing a new interpretation of the lyrics." Steve pointed to the kitchen. "Can I get you something? Drink? Snack?"

The prerecorded music started again. Collin and Serenity motioned for Steve to go ahead of them into the kitchen where they helped him with drinks for everyone. Serenity put ice in the glasses while Steve poured the lemonade, and Collin stacked cookies on a plate. They set it all on a tray, and Steve picked it up. As he started to turn, Natasha called out, " _Steve!_ "

Her tone held an edge of fear he hadn't heard from her before. Steve set the tray on the counter and rushed into the living room.

Seated at the end of the sofa, Bucky was bent at the waist, both hands gripping his head. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was moaning in pain.

Steve squatted in front of him, one hand on his back. "What's wrong, Buck?" His friend continued to moan and rock.

Natasha brushed the hair from Bucky's face, trying to draw him out of his pain. "James, please look at me. Tell me what's wrong."

Mia stood off to one side with her phone gripped tight in her right hand. "Want me to call 9-1-1?"

Steve looked up. "Not yet." Grabbing Bucky's wrists, he pulled his hands away from his face.

The moaning abruptly stopped, and Bucky's head slowly came up, his blue eyes sweeping the room. He got to his feet, and Steve came up beside him. The look in his eyes was so vastly different from what Steve was used to that he hesitated to put a name on it. If he did, it would be brutal, almost savage. So much so that Steve took several steps back, putting himself between Bucky and the others. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

His friend's left hand clenched into a fist, the action making his bicep bulge. He looked down at the hand, turning it over, and flexing the fingers. Tilting his head up, Bucky looked at Steve as if he didn't know him. No, worse. As if he was the enemy.

"Signal received. Target located. Eliminate." Bucky's voice was harsh, and grating, while at the same time devoid of emotion as he advanced on Steve.

 **TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

And thanks go out to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 23**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

The ear piece of his glasses clenched in his teeth, Bruce walked around the hologram of a DNA strand hovering in the middle of the lab, examining it from all sides, making notes and adjustments to the information displayed on the tablet in his left hand. He put the glasses on, and touched the screen in several places. "Jarvis, highlight the anomalous genetic markers please."

Multiple spots on the hologram blinked in response as Bruce peered closer. "Hmm. I'm going to need a fresh, clean sample to complete the analysis."

" _Shall I make the request of General Barnes on your behalf, sir?_ "

"That won't be necessary. I'll go to him, and do the work myself." Bruce shed his white lab coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. He shut down the hologram, and transferred everything to the tablet. Reaching under the desk, he took out a case, and placed everything he would need to take blood samples as well as a few other items, just in case. "Where's Tony?"

There was a minute pause. " _Mr. Stark left two hours ago to escort Ms. Potts to a fundraising banquet for the children's hospital in Bangladesh. Would you like me to contact him for you?_ "

"Absolutely _not_." Bruce slipped into a sport jacket, picked up his case, and headed for the elevators. "I'll need a pilot as soon as possible."

" _At this time, the only pilot available is Agent Barton._ "

With a resigned sigh, Bruce gave in. "Then he'll have to do. Ask him to prepare a flight plan to Washington D.C. And have a car waiting for me."

" _As you wish, Dr. Banner._ "

It wasn't that Bruce disliked Barton. Far from it. But he could be difficult at times. Annoying, aggravating, irritating, or any other similar adjectives. He was always playing pranks on the junior agents, sparring with whoever would take him on. Most of those who did regretted it within five minutes. SHIELD rotated the agents overseeing Bruce's work, and those days that Barton was with him, somehow, he managed to make it seem like he was doing everyone a favor just by showing up.

Yet, in spite of all his quirks, Barton was also one of the most loyal, and trustworthy man he'd ever met. And it made the rest easier to deal with knowing he'd always have your back.

On the roof, Bruce entered the helijet through the side, closed and locked the door, and took a seat in the rear. "Anytime you're ready, Agent Barton."

"Sure you don't want to sit up front, doc? Can beat the view."

Bruce secured the case, found a seat, and reached for the harness. "No offense, but your flying makes me nauseous."

"I could give you a few lessons on the way to D.C., if you like."

Intrigued, Bruce thought it over for all of three seconds before scrambling into the right hand seat. He strapped himself in, and put on the headset. "Best offer I've had in weeks."

From the side, Bruce could see Barton's usual smirk, thinking nothing of it because it was his normal look. They lifted off, the helijet tilting at a crazy angle until they were at cruising altitude. "Hold onto your butt, doc."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

With an affectionate smile, Bucky thought how lucky he was to have his family, life-long friend, and the woman he loved around him. If Steve hadn't caught him before he fell from the train, none of them would've been born, and he wouldn't have Natasha. He owed Steve everything. Each minute he was alive was because his friend refused to let him die. He'd thanked Steve just after it happened, and a short time later, he was gone. At the time, it hadn't seemed fair that he'd lived while Steve had lost his chance to be with the woman he loved. And though he knew it was selfish and greedy, he couldn't find it in himself to feel shame. Not much, anyway. Okay, a lot.

His granddaughter and her husband captivated the room with their haunting rendition of _The Sounds of Silence_ , and Bucky watched over his shoulder as Joi helped Steve talk to them afterwards. He caught his friend's eye, and nodded his thanks.

Justin sat at the piano without playing while prerecorded music filled the room as it had on the previous breaks, more to give Steve, Serenity and Collin time to bring everyone something to drink and snack on while they decided who would go next in the karaoke line-up.

Most of the songs, Bucky knew. When you've lived almost an entire century, your musical knowledge spans ten decades. No one else could beat him at music trivia.

Natasha laid her hand on his thigh to get his attention. _Looks like Steve and Joi are getting back together._

One arm was around Natasha's shoulders making it difficult to sign, but he managed. _Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I'm cool with it. They're both adults_.

She smiled at him, and as always, his heart beat a little faster. Bucky leaned down to kiss her, stopping when the next song came on. "Listen," he told her. "This song describes how I feel about having you in my life. I love you, Tasha."

 _I am a man who will fight for your honor_

 _I'll be the hero that you're dreaming of_

 _We're gonna live forever, knowing together that we_

 _Did it all for the glory of love_

 _We'll live forever, knowing together that we_

 _Did it all for the glory of love_

"James…"

The song ended, and the next one began, altering the mood slightly. The man's voice was familiar, though Bucky hadn't heard it in a while.

 _I got a gal who's always late  
Any time we have a date  
But I love her  
Yes I love her_

 _I'm gonna walk right up to her gate,  
And see if I can get it straight  
'Cause I want her,  
I'm gonna ask her_

Then a woman's high-pitched, slightly nasal voice continued the duet. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Natasha again to marry him…

 _Is you is or is you ain't my baby?  
The way you're acting lately makes me doubt  
You'se is still my baby, baby  
Or my flame in your heart done gone out_

 _A man is a creature always been strange  
When you're sure of what you'll find,  
He's gone and made a change_

 _So is you is or is you ain't my baby?  
Maybe baby's found somebody new  
Or is my baby still my baby true?_

…but all thoughts halted, vanishing when a sharp pain hit him over his left eye.

 _A woman is a creature that has always been strange.  
Just when you're sure of what you'll find, look at her  
She's gone and made a change_

Bucky pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, and the pain changed, now burning its way through his brain.

 _Is you is or is you ain't my baby?  
Or maybe baby's found somebody new  
Oh, tell me, please tell me is my baby true?_

He released Natasha, resting his elbows on his knees, clamping his hands over his head, and rocking in an effort to alleviate the agony as the pain soared to an unimaginable height. The pain ended just as quickly as it began, taking with it everything that made him James Buchanan Barnes.

~~O~~

Gesturing for the others to leave, Steve moved to the left without taking his eyes off Bucky. Natasha knew he was hoping Bucky would follow the one person who was a physical match for him in a fight. She signed to Joi, Mia, Collin, and Serenity, telling them to leave by the front door, get in their cars and go. As if they'd choreographed it, all four chins came up in defiance. Joi didn't bother taking a consensus of her family, signing her response. _We're staying_.

Mia deliberately turned off her phone and pushed it into the back pocket of her shorts to keep her hands free. _What's wrong with Gramps?_

Natasha flicked her eyes to the piano where Justin still sat staring straight ahead as if he were too scared to move. _Later. We have to get to Justin before he's hurt._

Movement to her right alerted her to the fact that Collin had left them, and was slowly inching his way to his brother-in-law's side. He gripped Justin's shoulder to get his attention, but the young man wouldn't budge. Wouldn't even acknowledge that he was there. He stared straight ahead with his hands in his lap, the nails digging into the tops of his thighs.

Collin looked from Bucky and Steve's standoff, to Natasha. She reached into a pocket and tossed him a silver disc. He looked at her questioningly, and she mimed how to activate it. Collin responded by pulling up Justin's shirt and pressing it to his lower chest. A tap in the middle sent a shock through Justin's body. He shook for a few seconds, and fell into Collin's arms. With a little maneuvering, he threw Justin over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, nodding when Natasha signed _Take him out the back way_.

Natasha turned to the three women, motioning for them to follow, and to be quiet about it. _Help Collin with Justin_. Assuming her orders would be obeyed, she returned her attention to Steve and Bucky.

"What signal? Who's the target, Bucky?" Steve asked, though he couldn't have expected an answer.

Though his eyes moved to keep Steve in his sights, Bucky didn't budge from where he stood at the end of the sofa. The coffee table had been moved under the piano to get it out of the way for the karaoke leaving nothing between the men but space.

"The target must be terminated."

The lack of emotion in Bucky's voice disturbed Natasha. Steve too, to go by the look on his face. They exchanged a quick glance, and Steve reluctantly nodded.

Moving between Bucky and Steve, Natasha relaxed her stance, and smiled. "James? It's Tasha."

Bucky finally looked at her, his eyes showing none of the warmth of the past. "Eliminate witnesses."

Slowly moving closer, she reached out. At first, it appeared that he would allow her to touch him on the cheek, a gesture he'd always welcomed in the past. One hand shot out to grab her by the wrist, and while he was distracted, Natasha took out another Taser disc, and slapped it on the part of his chest that showed above his t-shirt.

He stiffened briefly, shook his head, and used his nails to peel the disc from his skin. With barely a pause, Bucky swept that same arm to the side, knocking Natasha over the back of the sofa. She rolled to her feet using the momentum of the strike, and readied herself to fight the man she loved.

Before she could stop her, Joi filled the space between Steve and Bucky, moving toward him one slow step at a time, speaking to him in soothing tones. "Gramps? It's me, Joi." He stared at her without recognition, not speaking. "You don't really want to hurt Steve. He's your best friend. You love Natasha, and you're _my_ best friend. We only want to help. Please, let us."

Bucky's shoulders and spine straightened, the light of a hard glare coming into his blue eyes. "Eliminate witnesses." And before either Steve or Natasha could make a move to stop him, Bucky batted Joi out of the way. She landed on top of the piano, slid across its smooth surface knocking the framed photos to the floor where the glass shattered. She slammed into the widows that looked out into the back yard, and landed on the floor with a thump.

Steve whispered, "Joi!" torn between going to her, and protecting everyone. He chose protection.

From her spot behind the sofa, Natasha could see Joi lying face down on the floor. She pushed to her hands and knees, shaking her head. Natasha waved to get her attention, motioning for her to be quiet, and to crawl in her direction. Careful to avoid the shards of broken glass, Joi did as she was told. When she got close, the girl tried to sit, but Natasha wouldn't let her.

The back door was standing open. Using ASL, Natasha told Joi to join the others outside, but when she tried to stand, her right leg wouldn't support her weight. To make sure she was safe, Natasha helped her out the door, and around to the front of the house.

Luckily, Bucky's house was the last one on a dead end street, and the house next door was up for sale. That meant she and Steve could resolve this situation without police interference.

As they came around the side of the house, Collin rushed to help, taking Joi to Bucky's SUV and putting her in the back seat with Justin so he could examine her injuries. Natasha gave them all a mild form of her death glare in rebuke. "You were supposed to _leave_. Steve and I will take care of this."

Mia, a blonde among a family of brunettes, shifted her weight from one foot to the next, and cocked her head to the side. "All due respect, Nat, he's _our_ grandfather. We're staying right here."

The sun was just setting, and into that twilight, a car came down the street and stopped in front of the house. Bruce got out, and rushed to her side. "What's going on?"

Shaking her head, Natasha drew him away from the others. "Not sure yet. Why are _you_ here?"

"There were anomalies in Barnes' DNA. I came to get more blood." He huffed lightly. "Didn't expect a Code Green." At her blank look, he elaborated. "That's what Tony calls it when the Other Guy makes an appearance."

She touched him on the arm. "Don't worry. If he does, I have an idea." From the back of house came a loud crash, and the tinkle of breaking glass, followed by the sounds of fighting. Natasha pointed at the younger Barnes', as she headed around the side of the house. "Stay!"

Bruce was a half-step behind her, stumbling to a stop at seeing what Natasha had been dreading would happen. The friends had fallen through the windows into the yard, and were pounding on each other, Steve using his skills for defense only, while Bucky quite obviously intended to harm him.

Rustling in the grass told her that Serenity and Mia had joined them despite orders to stay with the others. So be it.

~~O~~

Justin opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around, puzzled at finding himself in the backseat of Bucky's SUV with Joi. Collin was using a first aid kit to treat cuts and scrapes on Joi's face, arms, and legs. Her right ankle had been wrapped with an elastic bandage, and purple bruises were showing on her fair skin amidst the cuts and scrapes.

He rubbed both hands down his face and sat up. "Hey. What's going on? How'd I get out here?"

"Justin!" His sister hugged him with one arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. What happened to _you_?" A crash and breaking glass startled them. "What the _hell?_ "

His sister's eyes went wide with dread, though not for herself. The skin around her right eye had turned an awful shade of purple-ish black, giving weight to her words. "It's _Gramps_. He's gone berserk. Saying things that don't make sense. Something about eliminating the target. He didn't even know me, didn't know _any_ of us."

"I'm going to try talking to him." Opening the door on his side, Justin had one foot out when he was stopped by Collin clutching his arm.

He shook his head, saying, "No."

That Collin had used his voice meant the situation was dire. But there was no way whatever this was would go down without Justin doing everything he could to help. He signed, _Take care of Joi_.

The door closed with a click, and Justin ran around the side of the house opposite to where Natasha and the rest had gone. He leapt over the six-foot fence without a pause, landing in a crouch on the other side. Creeping to the corner, he pressed his back against the wall, and sneaked a peek. The motion-activated lights were on, giving him a front row seat to watch Steve and Bucky beating the crap out of each other. Justin seldom used the impressive strength he'd inherited from Bucky for anything other than moving heavy objects. Tonight would be the exception.

Getting to his feet, Justin eased around the corner, keeping close to the hedge that grew under the den windows. Staying in the shadows while he worked out a plan of attack that wouldn't get him or anyone else maimed or killed, he spied Natasha, a man with dark hair he didn't recognize, Serenity, and their cousin Mia. He wanted to tell them to go, leave before they were hurt, but the Barnes family had a double genetic dose of pig-headedness, and the effort would ultimately end with frayed nerves, and hurtful words said in the heat of the moment.

Fireworks exploded in the air, the sound distracting Bucky for a moment, as if it were a signal of some sort. Steve used the diversion to run at Bucky, performing a jump-flip, grabbing the shoulders of Bucky's shirt, and sending him flying to crash into the gazebo, landing in the flower bed.

Bucky got his hands under his shoulders, his head coming up to show a dangerous, and slightly crazed expression that no one in their family had ever seen him use, no matter what the provocation.

Before Bucky could gain his feet again, Steve got him in a headlock from behind. And though Steve was strong, Bucky's strength seemed to have increased.

Natasha moved into the light, followed by the stranger. Her hand went into her pocket, and emerged with a small piece of metal. She circled the two men rolling around on the ground, making Justin wonder what the hell she was up to now.

Steve rolled, bringing Bucky over on top of him. One hand pulled Bucky's shirt up to expose his stomach, while at the same time Natasha dropped to one knee, and flung the piece of metal like a Frisbee.

At the last possible second, Bucky brought his knees up, dug his heels into the ground and made a back flip so that now Steve was face down with his shirt pulled from the waist of his pants. The metal hit him on the lower back, discharging a blue arc of electricity. He shook with the force of the discharge, but remained conscious.

Just for a moment, Justin felt a sense of familiarity, absentmindedly touching his chest. Then it was gone. He dashed across the yard, and jumped on his grandfather's back, kicking and rolling until he broke his hold on Steve.

Bucky turned on him, fighting with precision and accuracy that Justin never seen in him before. Together, Justin and Steve wrestled Bucky to the ground. "Stop, Gramps!"

Steve added his voice. "Bucky, please. We don't want to hurt you."

Raising his arms over his head, Bucky slithered out of his t-shirt, and their hold, rolling over onto his left knee, supported by that same hand. The right leg came in and up, and Bucky pushed to his feet, looking down at them without recognition. "Eliminate the target, and all witnesses."

The words were said in a flat, emotionless tone, and Justin had to admit that he was scared for his grandfather, and for them.

Then something extraordinary happened. Bucky stiffened as blue-white electricity enveloped his body. He shook for a few seconds, and fell unconscious, caught by Steve, who gently lowered him to the ground.

Natasha ran to Bucky's side, and the stranger joined her. Steve turned him onto his back so he could be examined, and Justin was relieved to see Bucky was still breathing. The four of them turned as soft footsteps swished through the grass, and Mia stood with the yard lights shining behind her, silhouetting her form.

Mia's arms slowly lowered to her side as she went down on one knee near Bucky's feet. "Is he okay?"

The first one to regain the power of speech was Natasha. With one hand on Bucky's chest, she consulted the stranger, who nodded. "He'll be fine."

"Thank God." Her relief was felt by everyone.

Behind them, Serenity, Joi and Collin moved into the light, Joi supported by her brother-in-law. "Mia, how did you _do_ that?"

The blonde cast a quick glance over the group, taking in their shocked expressions as she stood. "I didn't want you to find out like this. Didn't want you to find out at all."

Steve had one hand on Bucky's shoulder, his head turned to the side to look up at her. "Find out what, Mia?"

"That I can do this…" With a sheepish shrug, and a small smile of apology, Justin's cousin casually flicked the fingers of her right hand toward the gazebo. They all jumped when a small bush exploded.

 **TBC**

 _Glory of Love_ is a song written and composed by Peter Cetera, David Foster, and Diane Nini, recorded by Peter Cetera, and released in 1986.

 _Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby_ is a 1944 Louis Jordan song, released as the B-side of a single with _G.I. Jive_. This chapter references the Nat "King" Cole/Ida James version. **Go to YouTube and listen to the song. Then you'll know why I chose this song as Bucky's "trigger."**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Also thanks to Lady Pandora for some brainstorming events.

FYI - In scenes that include Serenity and Collin, when anyone is speaking, assume they're using ASL for the benefit of their hearing impaired family members.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 24**

Joi, Serenity, and Collin all started talking at once. Mia waved her hands, meeting the eyes of her cousins without flinching. "Later. Let's concentrate on Gramps for now."

Natasha took the hint, and made introductions. "Dr. Bruce Banner, Mia, Joi, Serenity, and Collin. They're James' grandchildren. Kids… Bruce."

The stranger looked up from his detail examination of Bucky. "Won't know for certain what's wrong until I get him to the lab."

Mia crouched between Bruce and Steve. "How long's he going to be out, doc?"

" _You_ tell _me_. How long does it usually last?"

One shoulder went up and down. "Don't know. Really only knocked someone out once, and it only lasted like two minutes." Serenity signed a question, and Mia nodded. "Yeah. My ex. It only took a fraction of what I used on Gramps, but then he was a normal human. Except for the stalkery thing."

Without looking up, Bruce said, "Someone get my case from the car, please. Door's open."

Natasha signed to Serenity. The girl nodded, and took off at a jog. She was back within two minutes. Natasha opened the case and set it next to Bruce. "You're sure he'll be okay?"

Bruce took out a small box, taking out a syringe, a vial filled with a clear liquid, and alcohol wipes. "Pretty sure." He filled the syringe, and returned the vial to the box. "He should be waking up soon. This will keep him out until we can get him to the lab."

Bucky chose that moment to moan as a prelude to waking up. Steve nodded at the syringe. "That's not too much?"

Mia got to her feet, and quietly made her way to the house, leaving Natasha, Steve, Justin, and Bruce to watch over Bucky. If she was needed, they'd call.

Going to the refrigerator, she pulled out a beer. She'd just twisted the top off when Serenity came in just ahead of Collin carrying Joi, picking his way carefully through the shards of glass, and splintered wood from the broken window. He set her on the sofa, and Serenity placed a pillow under her swollen ankle. Going back to the 'fridge, Mia took out three more beers, twisted the tops off, and passed them out.

Perching on the arm of one of the chairs, Mia waved the hand holding the bottle. "Go ahead. Ask." Again, her cousins started talking at once. "Forget it. Look, I don't know _how_ I got this. Natural genetic mutation, exposure to toxic chemicals, radiation, impure recreational drugs, _whatever_. As long as I can remember, I've had a problem with static electricity. It was only mildly annoying until puberty, especially in winter. Each year since then, it got worse, or better, depending on your point of view."

Joi shifted in her seat. "Is that why you dropped out of college?"

"Yeah. I know everyone thinks I took off because of a guy. And ultimately, it was, sort of." She drank the rest of the beer, and set the bottle on the entertainment center. "I ended up in Sedona where I met a spiritualist by the name of Louis Bennett. He took me under his wing after I accidentally created a dust storm outside his place of business that broke a few windows. He taught me how to control this ability, to focus through meditation and controlled breathing."

"Some sort of cult?"

"What? No. He owns a yoga studio."

Nerves already on edge were sent soaring at the sound of fighting in the back yard. Mia ran to the door, Collin coming to her side. Bucky had regained consciousness, and had knocked Bruce across the yard to land in the grass at the edge of the patio. Mia rushed to his side, ignoring Natasha's warning shout, "No, Mia! Stay back!"

She fell to her knees beside Bruce, touching him on the back to let him know she was there. Blood welled up on the side of his head, mixing with his unruly hair. She pulled off the shirt she wore over her tank top, and used it to put pressure on the wound. "Doc? Bruce?"

Steve and Justin were trying to hold Bucky still while Natasha stuck the needle in his arm and pressed the plunger. His voice strained, Steve shouted, "Go back inside."

 _Not happening_. "He's hurt. I can't just leave him."

~~O~~

Bruce cleansed Bucky's upper arm, preparing to administer the tranquilizer. Without warning, Bucky came fully awake, jerking free of Steve's hold, using that arm to knock Bruce through the air. He landed in the grass, his head hitting the edge of the patio. It was just a glancing blow, though enough to draw blood.

Steve's stomach dropped as he and Justin regained their hold on Bucky while Natasha hit him with the tranquilizer. Bucky's struggles weakened, and stopped as he slumped in their arms.

Bruce got to his hands and knees, head down, grunting and moaning in pain. Steve recognized the sounds, and the rocking from the helicarrier after the explosion that took out one of their engines, and allowed Loki to escape.

Natasha ran to Bruce's side. Steve could see that his skin had already taken on a greenish-grey appearance. The hand on his shoulder felt his muscles begin to bulge. "Justin!"

Torn between staying with Bucky, and going to Natasha, Justin looked from one to the other. Steve nodded, and the boy wasted no time in going to her aid.

"Go to the piano and play something soothing, classical. Anything. Don't stop until I say so. And whatever you hear, don't turn around."

Puzzled, Justin did as he was told while Natasha ignored Mia's presence, focusing only on Bruce, and stopping him from turning into the Hulk.

~~O~~

Each exhale ended on a grunt of pain, and knowing what would happen if he turned into the Other Guy, Natasha thought fast to come up with a way to stop it.

She squatted in front of Bruce, her hands where he could see them, keeping her voice low, and soft, using the nickname she'd given him after New York. "Hey, Big Guy." His head came up though he still moaned and grunted. She glanced around for inspiration, seeing the orange-pink line along the horizon. "Sun's gettin' real low."

She extended her hand, palm outward. If Bruce mirrored her action, it would show that he understood, and could still respond.

Slowly, his right hand came up, and pressed his palm lightly against hers. Natasha turned her hand facing up, and he did the same, touching the back to her palm. Their eyes met, and she smiled as she drew her fingers along the inside of his arm to the fingertips. His hand curled at the contact as though it tickled.

Bruce sat back on his heels, holding the same hand out in front of him as if he'd never seen it before. The green pallor changed to his normal light tan, and the green in his eyes faded to brown once more. He took a deep breath, let it out, and sagged in relief while the haunting strains of _Moonlight Sonata_ played as it was written, in C-sharp minor.

Natasha admired the precision and depth of emotion with which Justin played the piece, as did Bruce, to go by his expression. The scientist closed his eyes, moving his head in time to the music. He often listened to other music genres, but classical was his favorite. Country was useful for annoying Clint.

Natasha grasped his hand, giving it a squeeze. "You okay?"

One side of his mouth turned up. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Want him to stop?"

Getting to his feet, Bruce turned to watch Justin playing, his back to them, his fingers flying over the keys. "Not yet." He indicated Bucky's unconscious form, watched over by Steve. "Let's get him to SHIELD's max security. He can have my room until we figure out what's going on. If Thor can't get out, Barnes should be safe."

At the same time, they noticed Mia and Collin staring wide-eyed from just a few feet away. Staring through the hole in the back of the house, Joi and Serenity had the same expressions. Turning away, Natasha leaned close to Bruce, speaking softly. "You see to James, while I try to explain all of this to the kids."

"I hear the truth works well."

Natasha agreed, and Bruce left her to it. She headed inside, the kids following in her wake. Serenity helped Joi back to the sofa, and the others found seats, waiting patiently. She lay her hand on Justin's shoulder. "You can stop now. Thanks."

The last note drifted away as Natasha picked up the remote, and held it just in case they needed more than her word for what she was about to tell them. "You've all seen the videos of the alien invasion."

Joi snorted. "Yeah. It was cool and scary at the same time."

Together, Collin and Serenity signed, _Mostly scary_.

"I've already told James what happened. What do _you_ know about it?"

The piano bench scraped across the floor. Justin came around to lean on the side of the white baby grand, arms crossed, and his eyes flitting from Mia to Natasha and back. He raised his hand. "I know a little more than my esteemed siblings and cousin. For instance, I know _you_ were there."

"Yes, I was." Natasha waited out the slack-jawed stares. "Steve and Bruce too."

Justin pushed away from the piano, standing with is feet shoulder width apart. "The video Chase and I saw was of you, Steve, and a guy in black fighting aliens."

Pursing her lips to keep from laughing, Natasha sat on the arm of the sofa. "His name is Clint. He's also a skilled pilot. Bruce, Clint, Steve, Thor, Tony Stark-Iron Man- and I are called the Avengers." She resisted making finger quotes. "Earth's mightiest heroes."

Collin made a comment the women hadn't thought to make, _Don't recall seeing a nerdy scientist in the group_.

Pursing her lips, Natasha cued up one of the videos of Hulk and Thor doing serious damage to one of the Leviathans. "He's the one in green, in case you haven't guessed."

Again, Collin raised his hands to sign, thinking better of it, and just waving to indicate he didn't know what to say. The same looks were on the other faces as well.

Steve came to the back door, glancing at the broken windows, at Joi, and lastly Natasha. "Contact Barton. We need to get Bucky out of here before the tranquilizer wears off."

"On it." Natasha wandered into the kitchen with the phone to her ear. She took a beer from the 'fridge, twisted the top off, and tossed it in the trash can under the sink. "Hey, it's me… We need you… Transportation to the helicarrier… Four passengers… ASAP… I'll text you the address, and explain when you get here… See you soon." She shut the phone off, turning as Steve came into the room. "He'll be here in thirty, give or take. Said he's happy to help."

Smirking, Steve leaned against the counter. "His words or yours?"

Natasha mirrored his position, and expression. "His exact wording isn't important. Just that he'll be here." They were silent for a while, each in their own thoughts. Natasha knew what he was thinking. "You want to stay with Joi, but you have an obligation to Bucky."

Reluctantly, Steve nodded. "I'm sorry it took something like this to make me see that Joi and I belong together."

Bruce came in, going to the sink to wash his hands. "I'll need to monitor him on the ride to SHIELD. With his metabolism, the drugs will wear off quickly." He dried on a paper towel, his eyes darting to the barbeque leftovers on the counter. "Any chance of a meal?"

Indicating the kitchen in general, Natasha told him, "Help yourself, Bruce. Anything you want."

Before the words were out of her mouth, Bruce had already grabbed a hamburger bun from the bag, and set it on a plate. He added a cold burger, cheese, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, onion, and a huge serving of potato salad. Taking a seat at the counter, he dug into the food as if he were starving. And he probably was. After the fight in New York, he'd eaten enough shawarma to feed a family of four, and then some. Apparently even a partial transformation took a toll on his energy reserves. Natasha set a cold drink in front of him, and he flashed her a grateful half-smile around the food, swallowed then chugged half the bottle in one go.

In the kitchen doorway, Natasha pointed her chin at the kids. They were watching videos of the invasion. "Clint will be here soon. Go talk to Joi, and make it quick. She should be seen by a doctor in case she has a concussion."

At first, she thought Steve would ignore her. Then he moved to Joi's side, going down on his knees so she wouldn't have to strain her neck to see him. They spoke briefly, she shook her head in that stubborn way the Barnes family had, and in response, Steve picked her up. She squealed and held on around his neck. "Justin, do you have the keys to Bucky's SUV?"

"I'm _fine_ , Steve. Justin can take me home."

Both men ignored her. "He keeps a spare set in the den. Why?"

Steve spoke as he headed for the front door. "I'm putting Joi in the front seat. Take her to the ER to get checked out, and don't let her bully you into taking her home instead."

"Not to worry, _mon frère_. You can trust me with your precious cargo." Justin went into the den, and came out with a set of keys. "Locking up would be futile, what with the hole in the wall."

Grinning, Steve used his back to open the front door. "We got it covered."

Natasha joined them, pining Joi with a mock glare that said there would be hell to pay if she didn't comply. "Yeah. We know a guy."

~~O~~

"Really, Steve. I'm perfectly capable of tending to my own injuries," Joi told Steve as he put her in the shotgun seat of the SUV. "You know. The family genes. We heal quickly."

Steve reached across to buckle her seatbelt. "Humor me just this once." With one hand on the door, his eyes locked with hers, and as she leaned toward him, he met her more than halfway for a sweet kiss filled with promises. "When this is over, we have to talk."

"Yes, we do." Joi held his hand briefly, ignoring for the moment that little thrill of awareness she felt every time they touched. "The studio's back in operation now that the repairs have been made."

"The fire. I heard. At least no one was hurt." Steve looked up when Justin got into the driver's seat, strapped in, and fired up the engine. He leaned down to whisper in Joi's ear then backed away, and slammed the door before she could respond. He waved as Justin backed out of the driveway, and took off down the street.

~~O~~

The quinjet swung around, and settled in the field across from the address Natasha had given him, presenting the most impressive silhouette for the civilians inside the Barnes home. Yeah, he was showing off, and Natasha would have something to say about it, but Clint didn't care. It was his nature.

Dressed all in black, Clint checked his weapons, returned them to their hiding places, and left by the rear hatch. Using the remote, he closed up behind him so no one would get the idea to have a look around while he was gone. He jumped the three-foot fence, and casually strolled up to the house.

The front door was ajar, and he could hear Natasha's voice inside. Taking that as an invitation, he let himself in. He gave the entryway a quick glance, and followed the voices to the living room. Three young people were on the sofa, engrossed in watching a video of Steve, Natasha and Clint fighting the Chitauri. "Such a shame," he said by way of announcing himself.

The blonde girl jumped to her feet, a piece of work if ever he saw one, her right hand extended with the remote held out in front of her like a weapon. Clint shook his head sadly. "They never get my good side."

The other two, a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a medium brown haired man, stood beside her, all three wide-eyed, and annoyed. It said much about their personalities that they weren't scared to suddenly find a stranger in their home. The blonde paused the play-back on his face, and as one, they looked from him to the screen and back. Clint waved. "Hi. Looking for Nat and Steve."

"Here." Natasha came to his side, gracing him with a smile. "Thanks for coming."

Steve adding, "We wouldn't have called if we had another choice."

Natasha nodded at the trio still standing on the other side of the sofa watching them, signing as she made introductions. "Mia, and Serenity, two of James' granddaughters, and Serenity's husband, Collin. Guys, this is Clint."

The three Barnes kids shared a look when Clint signed, "Glad to finally meet the Barnes family." Seeing the gaping hole, he said, "Did Banner do that?"

"No." Clint followed her out the back, picking their way through the debris, and crossing to where Bruce was monitoring Bucky's vitals. "James had some sort of breakdown. He needs to be transported to the helicarrier for tests."

Bruce got to his feet, and came around the counter, wiping his mouth and hands on a napkin. "He's out for now. Don't know how long it'll last."

"Then let's get going." To the kids, Clint said, "Ignore any reports of UFO sightings in the area."

Without a word, Steve pulled Bucky to a sitting position, got him into a shoulder carry, and headed around the side of the house, stopping when he noticed the kids standing on the patio. "I'll be back in a couple hours. Then you can go on home, and get some rest while I watch the house."

Clint passed Steve the remote, and jogged to the patio, tossing "I'll catch up" over his shoulder.

He kicked at the splintered wood and broken glass. To the kids he said, "While we're gone, if you could stack everything at the curb to be hauled away, that'd be a big help. I'll expedite the permits, and get started on the repairs sometime tomorrow."

As he turned away, the blonde, Mia, called out, "Wait! Who _are_ you?"

Puzzled, Clint signed as he spoke. "Clint Barton." Mia, and the other two, pointed at the television again displaying the invasion video. "Long story. If you wanna hear it, come back tomorrow to help with the repairs."

He nodded once, and took off at a jog, catching up to Nat and the others just as Steve was laying Barnes in the stretcher. He got into the pilot's seat, and ran through his pre-flight in record time.

And just to give the kids-and the neighbors-something to talk about until he came back, Clint buzzed house before heading to Quantico where the helicarrier was docked.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

The quinjet settled on the deck with barely a thump. Steve opened the hatch, and headed down the ramp with Bucky over his shoulders, Bruce and Natasha in the lead. They'd barely cleared the ramp when it closed, and Clint lifted off.

Everyone they passed in the hallways stopped to stare, but Steve wasn't in the mood to placate their curiosity. Not fifteen minutes into the flight, Bucky had started to wake up, and Bruce had to hit him with the tranquilizers again.

They reached the detention level without encountering any problems. Natasha went to the controls to open the doors, and Fury appeared out of nowhere, or so it seemed.

"Who have we here, Agent Romanoff?"

Natasha glanced up, and back to the controls. "He's a friend, sir."

Fury lifted Bucky's head, and let it drop. Turning toward the exit, he said, "I expect a full report by the end of the week on why you have an infamous retired Army General locked up in our detention cell."

"Yes, sir."

The cell's door slid open with a pneumatic whoosh. Steve laid Bucky on the floor, and retreated. The door closed, and locked just in time because Bucky was waking up again. The three friends watched as he rolled onto his side, and sat up, rubbing his eyes, and yawning. He blinked, and looked around, realizing he was not at home. Standing, he turned in a circle, taking in the translucent walls, floor and ceiling.

Natasha activated the comm. "James."

At the sound of her voice, he rushed towards her, stopping within inches of the clear wall. "What's going on, Natasha? Where am I?"

She got as close as she could. "You experienced an episode of some kind." Behind her, Steve and Bruce beat a retreat. She waited until they'd gone to continue. "You tried to kill Steve.

"What?!"

"And," she didn't want to say this, but if he found out from someone else, it would hurt more, "you hurt Joi."

Stunned, he stumbled back a few steps. "No! No. I wouldn't…" Taking out her phone, Natasha accessed the video from the camera in the living room, holding it up for him to see. There was no audio, but his actions spoke for themselves. His hands curled into his palms as he watched the events unfold, eventually becoming fists.

"She'll be fine. Her injuries were minor, scrapes, cuts, bruises, a sprained ankle, maybe a concussion. But no broken bones." She shut the phone off, and put it out of sight, waiting for a response.

Anger like she'd never seen from him darkened his eyes, and he pounded his fists on the wall. "I don't remember _any_ of it. How _could_ I…" When his eyes finally met hers, she thought he would cry. He turned away, rubbing both hands down his face. "I almost killed you too, Natasha. What's _happening_ to me?"

"That's what Bruce is going to find out."

Bucky hung his head. "Oh, _God_. I'll never be able to see my family again."

His statement, said with such sadness, angered Natasha. "The military has a saying, James. 'No man left behind.' The Barnes family _never_ gives up on anyone. Remember that." She could see he wanted to believe her, but had doubts. Her voice softened. "We'll figure it out, James. SHIELD has resources other alphabet departments only dream about."

He turned toward her, and looked away, embarrassment and shame in his expression, and in the hunch of his shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft, she had to strain to hear it. "If you want nothing more to do with me after this, Tasha, I understand."

In his words, Natasha sensed a pulling away. He really did think he was a danger to his family, to her, _and_ to the community. "James, look at me." He shook his head, and moved to the other side of the cell, as far from her as he could get. "Please, Bucky." Still he refused. She hit the wall with the bottoms of her fists, making him jump. "Look at me!"

Finally, James let their eyes meet. Natasha pressed the palms of both hands against the barrier between them, silently pleading for him to respond. A moment later he did, his hands mirroring hers from the other side. "On several occasions, you asked me a question, and I always said no. When this is all over, James, ask me again. This time, the answer will be different. I promise."

 **TBC**

The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor _"Quasi una fantasia_ ", Op. 27, No. 2, popularly known as the _Moonlight Sonata_ , is a piano sonata by Ludwig van Beethoven. It was completed in 1801 and dedicated in 1802 to his pupil, Countess Giulietta Guicciardi.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

When a new OC is introduced, there will be a short blurb at the end denoting relationships to the other characters. If I've missed anyone, let me know.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 25**

Bucky didn't want to get his hopes up, so he didn't ask Natasha to explain. He pressed even closer to the barrier. "I wish I could hold you."

"Me too, _lyubimaya_. But until we get this figured out, you have to stay locked up."

One side of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Natasha dropped her hands, and took two steps back as Steve and Bruce joined them. Bruce stopped by the control panel, letting Steve continue alone. In the shadows, Bucky watched Natasha slip away, and knew it wouldn't be forever. "Steve."

"How you doing, Buck?"

He gestured at the cell. "Not so bad. Private room, pleasant company," he nodded at Natasha's retreating form, "three squares a day, and round-the-clock care from a real, live superhero. Except for not being able to leave, I got it made in the shade."

His tone at the end moved over into annoyance and frustration, but he couldn't help it. Whatever was going on, he just wanted it over.

"You hungry?"

He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "I can _always_ eat."

Steve left, supposedly to fulfill his unspoken request. Bruce waited until they were alone to approach. "Since we don't know what triggered the event, in the morning, I'll need blood and urine samples. I'll also do another DNA scan to compare to the previous scan to see if there are any changes to the anomalies I saw the first time."

A heavily armed man in an all-black uniform brought a chair, and Bruce sat down. Bucky moved over to the side wall, pressed his back against it, and slid to a sitting position. "How's that going to work? You can't come in, and I can't come out."

Bruce grinned while tapping the screen of his tablet. "That's a risk we'll have to take. Could we talk about the events leading up to the incident? We can do it while you're eating, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Steve returned with a tray piled high with food, trailed by a strike squad. Bruce rushed to reassure him, "They're armed with tranq guns only, James."

Feigning nonchalance, Bucky shrugged. "At least I'd get a nap."

"Not much of one. The longest you were out being just under eighteen minutes."

One of the guards went to the controls while the rest took aim as the door slid open. Steve stepped inside, squatting next to Bucky. There were no utensils that Bucky could use to aid in his escape. Not that he wanted to leave, but it still bugged him that he couldn't be trusted with even a plastic spoon. What did they think he was going to do, slit his own throat? "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Bucky put the tray aside, and got to his feet. Slowly, so the guards wouldn't get trigger-happy. After a moment's hesitation, he and Steve hugged. "Punk."

"Jerk."

Steve left, and the door closed behind him and the guards. Once they were gone, or at least where they couldn't be seen, Bruce put his glasses on, and crossed his knees. "If you're ready…"

Bucky picked up half of one of the sandwiches on his plate, gesturing with the other hand. "Go ahead. Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide, that I know of."

"Describe the events leading up to the incident, to the best of your recollection."

Looking within, Bucky chewed and swallowed before beginning. "We were doing Karaoke-Justin's idea. We took a break. Music was playing in the background." He chuckled and looked away, suddenly shy. "I-uh, I'd just told Natasha I loved her…"

Bruce looked up, but didn't comment. "What song was playing?"

"Peter Cetera. _Glory of Love_." Bucky stopped with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. Something wasn't right. "It ended and… I think another song came on, but I can't…" He shook his head. "That's the last I remember until I woke up here."

~~O~~

Bruce made a note to have Steve get him a list of the songs that were playing around the time where Bucky's memory stopped. "Do you remember what you were feeling, what you were thinking?"

"I enjoy having people around me. After my wife died, I lived in that big house alone. Not even a pet. Now I have Natasha, and five cats." Bucky wiped his hands and face, and put the tray aside. He rested his arm on an upraised knee. A pose meant to appear casual, and relaxed, yet between his eyes, were small furrows of worry. "Until she came along, I was just coasting, living life in neutral."

"Were you lonely?"

One shoulder lifted and fell. "Not all the time. There's a difference between being alone, and being lonely. Some nights, I would stay late at the museum or stop at a bar for dinner and watch whatever game happened to be on just for something to do, just to be among people. Others, I couldn't wait to get home, kick back with the remote and do nothing.

"But the moment I saw Natasha standing in the doorway of my office, it was like…" he touched his chest, "…like my life was a puzzle, and she was the piece that had been missing."

"From what Steve said, you've always been an outgoing, social person. At ease in the limelight."

Again that shrug. "So they tell me."

Bruce took the comment as an effort at projecting an attitude that this was just another adventure, another chapter to add to his already lengthy memoirs, if he chose to write them. "If you're agreeable, I'll do a physical in the morning before breakfast. EKG, stress test, the works." Bucky didn't respond except to shift his position. "I'd offer you something to help you sleep, but…"

"Sleeping pills don't work on me. Been there, done that." He got to his feet, and crossed to the door. "Do I get a bed, or at least a pillow? And what about the lights? I sleep better in the dark."

"I'll have bedding brought to you, and the boat goes into night mode soon. Anything else?"

"A magazine?" Bruce coughed to cover a laugh, thinking about Fury's parting shot to Loki in this exact spot. Bucky turned at a sound behind him to find that his tray had been removed. "Guess not. See you in the morning, Bruce."

Bruce started away, and turned back. "We'll figure this out, James."

One side of Bucky's mouth turned up in a humorless smile. "Don't make promises you're not sure you can keep."

~~O~~

The lights dimmed. Bucky crossed his arms, and went to the opposite side of the cell where he could look out over the water, ignoring the muffled thump of a pillow landing behind him. He'd likely not get a sheet, as that would pose the potential for an attempt at self-harm. As Falsworth would've said, not bloody likely. He had too much to live for. They just had to figure this out so he could go home to his family.

The video that Natasha had shown him replayed in his head. He'd hit her _and_ Joi. The thought that he could've seriously injured or even killed either of them made him angry. Not at himself. If he'd been in his right mind, he'd never have done it. That left either an outside source, or an organic cause. What if the experiments done on him in that lab were just now beginning to have a deleterious effect on his mind? What if whatever made him what he was had started to wear off?

And what about his family? Only Joi, Serenity, Mia, Collin, and Justin knew what had really happened. Would they tell their parents and siblings, or keep it to themselves for now? Bucky decided that the best course of action was to swear the kids to secrecy, and lie like the proverbial dog to everyone else. After the physical, when hopefully Bruce would have a better idea how long he'd be here, Bucky would send a mass email telling them he'd been called out of town for a few weeks.

Done brooding for the moment, Bucky removed his shoes and shirt, leaving on the t-shirt and shorts he'd worn for the barbeque. He lay down with his head on the pillow, missing Natasha, wondering what the cats were up to, and who was watching the house.

Looking up at where he guessed the cameras were, he gave it a mocking salute, and rolled over onto his side, waiting for sleep to come. And when it did, his dreams were not pleasant.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Clint knocked to let the kids know he was there. "Anyone home?"

He let himself in, and stood at the bottom of the stairs listening for movement. In the living room, he found that the debris had been cleaned up like he asked, and a blue tarp now covered the hole. The furniture had been moved as well. _Good work, kids_.

His duffle bag hit the floor with a thump, and a moment later, Clint sensed someone behind him. As he turned, a bolt of electricity hit him in the back. He blacked out, and when he came to, five anxious faces hovered over him where he lay on the sofa. They moved out of the way as he sat up and swung his legs to the floor, rubbing his throbbing head. "Dammit! What'd you do that for? I'm a friendly."

Mia smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Thought you were breaking in."

Clint held up a finger. "One, the door was unlocked." Another finger joined it. "Two, if I was breaking in, I wouldn't've knocked." Two more fingers joined the other two. "And three, gimme the Taser before you hurt someone."

There was no response, and when Clint opened his eyes, the five faces now held amusement. Mia crossed her arms, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Annoyed at being ignored, Clint stood up. "It's illegal to own a stun gun in D.C., so hand it over." The young people seemed to find him amusing in a not-good kind of way.

Mia shook her head. "Can't."

"Why not?"

Joi hopped to the sofa and sat down, propping a pair of crutches next to her, and her foot on the coffee table. "Because _she's_ the Taser." Her chin came up. "Show him."

The blonde grinned, and pointed her finger. "Aah!" Clint jumped when an electrical shock zapped him in the backside. He resisted rubbing the spot. "That's a handy power to have. No pun intended." He nodded at his bag. "I'll watch the place. You kids go home and get some rest."

Collin stepped forward. _This is the only family I have. He's_ _my_ _Gramps too_. _My wife and I are staying. And you promised us a backstory._

A young man Clint hadn't met spoke up. "Face it. You're stuck with us."

"And you are?"

"Justin. Serenity and Joi's brother."

The front door opened and slammed, and another young man breezed into the room. He passed the group, giving Clint a cursory glance. He lifted the tarp, and whistled. "You weren't _kidding_ , Big Brudda. What a _mess!_ " Clint followed, and he absent-mindedly shook his hand. "Chase Lockwood. Justin's twin."

"Clint. I'm a friend of Natasha's and your grandfather's." He didn't think a small lie would hurt as he wandered into the kitchen, took a pitcher of lemonade from the 'fridge, and opened one cabinet after the other until Mia showed him where the glasses were. "Rogers said he'd be coming by later. I'll sleep on the sofa."

Chase rubbed the back of his head. "My twin and I can bunk in the guest bedroom, and we'll fix up the den for Joi so she doesn't have to climb stairs."

Indicating Collin and Serenity, Justin added, "Nat will probably stay with Gramps, so we'll give the old married couple their bedroom."

Mia raised her hand. "And I'll sleep in with the cats."

That piqued Clint's interest. "Cats?"

"Gramps and Nat got them a few weeks ago. Wanna meet them?"

"Yeah. We may have to find a place for them to stay until we finish the work so they don't get hurt or get out."

The kids exchanged looks, Joi doing the talking. "Nat won't like that. This is their home too."

As if in response to the conversation, the cats yowled. No doubt protesting what they consider u barbaric treatment. "How long have they been locked in that room?"

Serenity answered _All day, I think. Gramps didn't want them disturbed while he had guests. This family can be a little overwhelming sometimes._ "

Clint ignored the grins and chuckles. "They need food, fresh water, and some play time." As one, Justin and Mia went to the kitchen for several cans of food, and took the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. A moment later, a door opened and closed on loud meowing. Clint's phone beeped. He read the message, and returned the phone to his pocket. "We should get to sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day. In fact, the next few days will be long, and not just for us."

Joi reached for her crutches. "There's not much I can do to help, and I have to be at the studio by noon tomorrow. Can someone take me home?"

Chase helped Joi stand, staying close as she hobbled toward the front of the house. "You can't drive. How will you get to the studio?"

"It's only a couple of days. I can get a ride."

To Clint, Chase said, "I'll run her home, and be back in thirty."

"Before you go, you're the computer expert in the family, right?"

"I do my best. What d'you need?"

Clint nodded. "When you get back, can you get me a list of the music that was playing up to the moment your grandfather had his episode?"

"Justin's the one to speak to about that. I wasn't here."

"Thanks." Clint went to the bottom of the stairs, and called out, "Justin! Front and center, please!"

The young man appeared at the railing. "Yeah?"

"Got a minute?"

~~O~~

Steve tapped out a text message, and sent it off to Joi.

* _Leaving soon. Will arrive within the hour._ *

Her response came within seconds. ** _No need. Clint's there. Says he's gonna do the repairs._ **

* _You didn't stay?_ *

** _Have to be at the studio by noon. We're in the home stretch. Should know soon who the winner is by next week_.**

For one of the few times since he'd been given the phone, he used an emoticon. *~smiley face~ _You're star material, Babe. It'll be you. ILY._ *

** _Keep your fingers crossed. ILY2._ **

Steve let himself into the quarters he'd been assigned, put the phone on vibrate, and stripped down to his boxers. He brushed his teeth, and lay down on the twin bed with his feet hanging off the end, thinking about Bucky and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

They'd resumed their friendship as though the missing seventy years hadn't happened. They went bowling, played one-on-one basketball, worked out, and shared confidences. Not as many as before, but then he wasn't dating his best friend's granddaughter back in the forties, and Bucky wasn't living with Steve's teammate and friend.

And now that Steve had his head on straight about his relationship with Joi, he knew they belonged together as long as God would allow it. When this thing with Bucky was sorted out, Steve was going to have a long talk with Carolyn and Martin. Though, the way this family stuck so close together, maybe he should have the talk with all of them at once. Whatever. He'd work it out later. Now it was time to sleep.

 _Yeah. Good luck with that_ , his subconscious taunted.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

 **The Next Morning**

"What's the therapist's name again?" Bruce asked Natasha.

"Edgar Heath. I recommended a SHIELD-vetted therapist, but he went with one he'd been going to before we met." She pulled out the chair next to Bruce's desk and sat down so they were eye to eye.

"We'd need a court order to get his files."

"That takes too long. I'll hack in and take them," she said with a glint in her eyes.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "Let's just ask him for the records."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up in a grin. "And if he doesn't cooperate, _then_ we'll hack in."

Grinning, Bruce turned the monitor so Natasha could see. "You have a twisted sense of right and wrong, Tasha." He indicated the information displayed, translating as he went. "As you can see, all of James' tests were within normal parameters for his specific physiology. There are minor differences. Adrenaline, hormones, and cholesterol are outside the averages, though nothing to be concerned about. He came through the stress test with greater than flying colors. Blood sugar normal. Et cetera, et cetera. In short, nothing that would cause sleepwalking, headaches, or the episode the other night." The screen changed to a set of graphs, charts, and brain scans. "There is, however, a small spot on his brain scan. The EEG and other tests were normal. No problems there, aside from a blip every time I mentioned your name."

"Blip?"

"We talked for some time before, during, and after the tests. James has it bad for you, Tasha. It's almost as if the two of you are linked. Without you, he'd likely fall into a depression. I haven't figured out if it's an unintended side effect from the experimentation, something that lay dormant until you met, or just your natural charm. There's no way to know."

Natasha leaned back in her chair, arms and legs crossed. "His grandkids, the ones who know what's going on, want to visit."

"I'm sure we can work something out. What about the rest of the family?"

"He sent them an email telling them he'd be out of town for a while on a press junket for the museum. Once a day, he'll send them 'updates' on what's happening, and when he might be home. As long as no one comes to the house before Clint finishes the repairs, we're good."

The computer beeped for attention. Bruce turned the monitor back, and accessed the display. As he read the information, he became more and more puzzled. "The analysis of his brain scan is complete. Jarvis could've done it quicker, but I didn't want Tony to get wind of I'm doing, and who I'm doing it for."

"And?"

Again, he turned the monitor. "See here?" He indicated the middle of the forehead. "There's a dark spot on the frontal lobe, barely noticeable. Upon closer inspection, it looks like a piece of metal less than half the size of a grain of rice. Most scans would've missed it completely."

"How did it get in his brain?"

"Not sure. There's nothing in his medical history that accounts for it. If he'd been badly injured in a car wreck or an industrial accident, it's possible that a shard of metal had become imbedded there and is only now becoming a problem. But there's nothing. We only found it now because scar tissue has built up around it."

Natasha's small intake of breath was the only sign of emotion. "Will it cause problems down the road? Dementia, Alzheimer's, strokes, aneurysm?"

"I doubt it. It's small enough, and the placement is such, that it would be a simple matter to remove it without compromising brain function."

"Speak to him about it. See what he wants to do."

Bruce put the computer into power saver mode, and got to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. "There's something you should know. I'm not committing a breach of the doctor-patient confidentiality laws by telling you this."

"What is it?"

"Just this morning, James listed you as his next-of-kin, and signed the papers giving you power of attorney. Any and all medical decisions are up to you. Prior to that, he signed a DNR with my approval. It was all his idea. No one prompted him to do it."

He paced a few steps away, and back, looking her in the eye. "At his insistence, there's also an authorization for the use of lethal force, should it become necessary. We'll do our best not to have to use it, but should he become a danger to those around him…"

Natasha looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. She seldom showed emotions to extremes, and she didn't now. Her unreadable mask, her shield, had fallen into place. Abruptly, she stood, and rushed from the room, and Bruce didn't try to stop her. It would've been futile anyway, so he just let her go.

~~O~~

The detention level was quiet, only the thrum of the engines, the soft whispers of the environmental systems, the occasional distant footsteps of the patrols, and their radios. The lights had been dimmed to simulate night per protocol.

Without making a sound, Natasha moved a chair to where she could sit and watch Bucky sleep. As he had on previous occasions, his sleep was restless, and his dreams filled with horrifying visions of killing his family or innocent bystanders.

Hours later, she was still watching him. He rolled over and sat up, at first seeming to have forgotten where he was. Then he saw her. He crawled over to the door, and waited for her to join him. Natasha leaned against the barrier, and he did the same, facing her.

"Bruce told me about the POA, and the use of lethal force."

"And you want to know why." He looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. "Because you're the one person in this world that I trust to follow the letter of my instructions, as well as the spirit. If a situation like the other night comes about again, you may be the only thing standing between me and anyone in my vicinity."

Natasha rested her head against the wall. "Why me? Why not Steve?"

"Steve, more than anyone, knows that hesitating for even a fraction of a second could mean the deaths of millions. But Steve, like my family, would be driven by affection and sentimentality. You have both in abundance, but you also have the ability to see the big picture, to do what has to be done for the greater good. I know you won't hesitate."

What James had done, making her his POA, and the authorization for lethal force, showed a level of trust that Natasha had only ever experienced with Clint. Theirs was an unspoken thing between them. James, on the other hand, had made it an official part of the record.

It was the ultimate show of trust between two people because James was quite literally putting his life, his fate, his continued existence, in her hands. It was beautiful, and terrifying at the same time.

She pressed her hand against the barrier, and he mirrored it from the other side as they'd done when he first awoke. "I love you, James."

 **TBC**

 **POA** : Power of attorney is a written authorization to represent or act on another's behalf in private affairs, business, or some other legal matter, sometimes against the wishes of the other. The person authorizing the other to act is the _principal_ , _grantor_ , or _donor_ (of the power). The one authorized to act is the _agent._

 **DNR** : Do not resuscitate is a legal order written either in the hospital or on a legal form to withhold cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) or advanced cardiac life support (ACLS), in respect of the wishes of a patient in case their heart were to stop or they were to stop breathing.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 26**

 **Nocturnal Diversions Studio**

 **Noon the Next Day**

Joi hobbled into the lobby followed closely by Elyse DeWitt holding the door, and carrying her tote bag. "Thanks so much for the ride, Elyse."

"No problem, Joi. My girlfriend lives a few miles up the street. I had to come right past your place to get here anyway." Elyse had the classic look of a 1940s movie star. Wavy ash blonde hair, an hourglass figure, smooth skin with just a few freckles, eyes the color of jade, and legs that went from here to eternity. Of the men on the set, only Vanya and Simon didn't stare. The Russian transplant to D.C. had been married to his wife for twenty-two years, and Simon just didn't care one way or the other as long as the show got made. "How'd you get hurt in the first place?"

"I wasn't beaten up by my boyfriend, if that's what you were thinking."

Elyse snorted. "I wasn't thinking that. So?"

"Playing volleyball at my grandfather's annual Fourth of July barbecue. My brother and I went for the ball at the same time, and whamo!" Joi mimed two people butting heads.

Elyse winced. "Ouch! At least you didn't get a concussion."

"Yeah." She indicated the crutches. "Small favors, and all that."

When they reached the studio, only Simon had yet to arrive. Frank rushed forward to help her into a chair, and she gave him a grateful smile. He turned around and found the rest of the group staring at him. "I'm not _always_ a jackass. So sue me."

Apparently Joi was the only one who knew that Frank's jackass-y-ness was all a put-on. But then, she knew him better than the rest.

Rolling their eyes, the group dispersed back to their jobs. Elyse set Joi's bag next to her on the floor. "I'm off to make-up and hair."

Elyse glared at Frank as if to say he'd better be nice for a change, and stalked away. Frank watched her disappear around the corner then dropped into the seat next to Joi. "Let's hear it."

That's how it went for the rest of the day. The only member of the cast and crew who didn't ask about her injury was Simon. She knew he cared, but only as far as her lack of mobility impacted the show. To his credit, he did have the stage crew alter the set to help.

And Joi decided to have a little fun with her predicament.

"…rollerblading."

"…kickboxing."

"…skydiving."

"…running of the bulls in Pamplona."

"…football with Captain America."

"…training to be a master spy."

"…ninjas."

"…attacked by an Inhuman."

"…fighting with the Avengers."

While the last two were close to the truth, everyone believed that the real story was more embarrassing than anything Joi had told them, and so, decided to just let it ride. It was a good thing Simon had divided the contestants into teams of two for this episode, giving her someone to rely on to do the running around. To stir the drama, Simon put her with Frank, knowing that they would eventually get into a shouting match. They did, but just to make Simon happy, and to quell any rumors of Frank being a nice guy.

Two days later, thanks to inheriting her grandfather's ability to heal quickly, the crutches were discarded, and her life was back to what passed for normal, except for the black eye. That took four long days, and lots of make-up to get rid of it.

Another contestant had been eliminated at the end of last week, Gabe Moreno. This week, her comment about getting into a fight with a mutant, their word, not hers, caused a heated debate regarding the regulation of people with powers, driving the tension on the set even higher for realsies. Some thought the government should register all mutants, and the rest were of the opinion that it sounded like the Nazi persecution of the Jews during WWII.

Standing up for her grandfather, Steve and Mia, Joi told them all to go to hell, and walked off the set. A few minutes later, just as she suspected, Amalie was there to sooth her ruffled feathers, and talk her into coming back, which she did, albeit grudgingly. And the show continued.

The next day, celebrity chefs took the place of the previous judges. Peeking through the curtains, she spied a specific one sitting at the table looking bored. The world knew him as a loudmouth with a volatile temper. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that was only a façade.

The music started. Joi took a deep breath, and when it was her turn, she swept the curtains aside, and marched confidently across the stage to stand between Frank and Dominic Hyde, with Elyse on Frank's other side. On the table off to one side, Joi spotted the usual covered baskets containing that episode's secret ingredients. _At least it's not moving_. She shuddered, remembering the episode where they'd been given a live octopus to prepare. That was the day she almost quit. But Frank talked her out of it.

Another addition was the studio audience. Joi knew she was an excellent chef, and calm in a crisis. Steve told her she was a star, and she believed it because he wouldn't lie. She could _do_ this.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

After nearly seventy-two hours without a repeat of the original incident, Steve asked for and received permission to spend some time inside the chamber with Bucky. They ate together, worked out, and talked. At the moment, they were playing Gin.

Every few seconds, Bucky would flash a contemplative look at Steve then go back to his cards. It was annoying to say the least. Steve took a card from the stack, placed it in his hand, and lay down a run of three, four and five of clubs. He discarded, and waited for Bucky to take his turn.

His friend picked up the discard, and lay it down on a set of three kings, all the time looking at Steve.

"What?"

"What what?" Bucky was never good at faking innocence, and nothing had changed since the forties.

"If there's something you want to say, Buck, say it."

He took from the stack, placed it in his hand, and lay down his discard. "Did you and Peggy really…?"

Uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation, Steve broke eye contact, and cleared his throat. "Unlike you, I don't kiss and tell."

"That sounds like a yes." He waited for Steve to finish his turn, and made a show of thinking over his next move. "You know all those women I told you I was with before and during the war?"

Steve slid his cards together and held them in one hand, the other resting on his upraised knee. "What of it?"

"I lied." Apparently tiring of the game, he tossed his cards on the floor and stretched his legs out in front. "I've only been with four women in my entire life." He ticked them off on his right hand. "Mary Lou Sorrento, Connie, Natasha, and…"

"I don't need to know her _name_."

Bucky shrugged. "Wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. It was after Connie died, and before I met Natasha."

There was nothing Steve could say to that. If Bucky was hoping his confession would encourage reciprocity, he'd be waiting a _long_ time. As he said before, he didn't kiss and tell. Well, except for Maria, and that was just to clear his conscience. It hadn't worked. He felt even worse after talking to Bucky about it. Probably because he'd kissed Maria on more than one occasion after that. The only salve to his annoying inner voice was the fact that he and Joi hadn't been a couple at the time.

Bucky's foot tapped his. "I told _you_ the truth. Now it's your turn."

Exhaling loudly to show his frustration with Bucky's persistence, Steve gathered up the cards and slid them into the box. "Leave it alone, Buck."

Raising his hands in surrender, Bucky sat cross-legged. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just make something up."

Whether he intended it or not, his friend's tone and expression made Steve chuckle, and shake his head. "Jerk."

Bucky lay down on the floor, pillowing his head on this folded hands. "Punk."

 **Discount Mart**

 **The Next Day**

The store was busy, but not so much that Justin couldn't easily navigate the aisles to find everything he needed. It was his turn on the supply run. Clint had given him a short list for the hardware store. And now he was working on food and drinks.

As he passed the toy department, a display for a kids' karaoke machine caught his eye. He wondered if Gracie would like it for her birthday. He switched it on, and picked up the mic. "Testing, testing."

Not a bad sound for a toy. Justin turned around to move his cart out of the way, and ran into a woman laden with packages, spilling them on the floor. "My bad." He bent down to help her pick them up, trying to work out how she'd been holding them all in the first place. "Why didn't you get a cart?"

"Because I only came in for a few things. Thought if I didn't get a cart, I wouldn't overspend. Didn't work out."

"Never does. Now me, I'm the opposite. I don't like carrying stuff, so a cart is mandatory, even if I'm only getting one thing." She snickered as he plucked a package of mozzarella cheese from her arms before it fell. Not the hard, yellow kind, but the white, creamy, melt-in-your mouth kind. His salivary glands went into overdrive just thinking about it. "I'm almost ready to go. We can share mine." Justin moved the items in the cart around to make room for hers, and together they stacked them at the end. She had a badge clipped to her lapel with her name, Reya, and the name of her company, Sunshine Pilates Studio.

She saw where he was looking, and smiled. "You can call me Rey."

Justin smiled back. "It must be fate that brought us together because _my_ name is Justin, but you can call me Jay. Rey and Jay has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Rey crossed her arms, one eyebrow inching upward. "Is that your idea of a pick-up line?"

He shrugging self-deprecatingly. "Lame, huh? Guess I'm out of practice. Been working too much, and my grandfather hasn't been well." He pretended to scratch his stomach with both hands. "Plus I've got this weird rash that keeps me up at night, and has the doctors stumped. Wanna see it?"

She laughed as he intended. " _No_. What do you do, Jay?"

Placing his hand on the karaoke machine, he indicated the photos of kids on the box. "Oh, a little singing, a little dancing." He did a dance step. "Even play the piano now and then. Was about to try this out, see if it's something my cousin's kid might like."

"Well, let's hear what you've got."

Justin scanned through the songs until he came to one he liked. "How about a duet?"

"Um…" Rey looked around, but no one was paying them any mind. "Okay." She moved around to stand next to him so they could share the mic.

"You be Kiki. I'll be Elton."

With a grin, Rey nodded.

Justin pressed play, and the lead-in to _Don't Go Breaking My Heart_ came out of the speakers. To him, the music sounded a little tinny, but it would sound like heaven to a four-year-old.

 _Don't go breaking my heart  
I couldn't if I tried  
Honey if I get restless  
Baby you're not that kind_

At first her voice was tentative, gaining confidence as the song progressed.

 _Don't go breaking my heart  
You take the weight off me  
Honey when you knock on my door  
Oh, I gave you my key_

 _Nobody knows it  
When I was down  
I was your clown  
Nobody knows it  
Right from the start  
I gave you my heart  
I gave you my heart_

 _So don't go breaking my heart  
I won't go breaking your heart  
Don't go breaking my heart  
I won't go breaking your heart  
_

 _Don't go breaking my heart  
I won't go breaking your heart  
Don't go breaking my heart  
I won't go breaking your heart  
_

A few people stopped to listen, applauding politely.

Justin grinned. "One more?"

Rey made a show of checking the time. "Okay. Then I really have to go."

They looked over the list, and settled on _Daydream Believer_ by The Monkees.

"Want me to start, and you join in?"

One shoulder went up and down. "Sure."

 _Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings  
The six o'clock alarm would never ring  
But it rings and I rise wipe the sleep out of my eyes  
The shavin' razor's cold, and it stings_

 _Cheer up, sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean  
To a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?_

 _You once thought of me as a white knight on his steed  
Now you know how happy I can be  
Oh, and our good times start and end without dollar one to spend  
But how much baby do we really need?_

 _Cheer up, sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean  
To a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?_

 _Cheer up, sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean  
To a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?_

 _Cheer up, sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean  
To a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?_

The song ended, and they received resounding applause from the group that had gathered. Justin laid the mic aside, winked at Rey, and took her hand. "Thank you for watching the Rey…" he indicated his companion.

She waved at him, "…and Jay show."

Together they said, "We'll be here all week." Store security came by, and didn't have to say a word. Everyone scattered.

To their surprise, someone had placed a hat on the floor, and the audience had filled it with change and a few dollar bills. Justin counted it out at just over ten bucks. "What say we drop it in the box for the children's charity at the front of the store?"

"I say let's do it."

Justin's phone beeped. He looked it, cringing at the text message from Clint. "I gotta go. Ready to check out?"

"Absolutely."

He pushed the cart through the aisle with all the stuffed animals, skidding to a stop when he saw a particular one. He picked it up so he could examine it closer, jumping when Rey touched him on the arm.

"You okay? You've been staring at that thing for a while."

"Uh…" There was something about this one that struck a chord, something inside that Justin couldn't identify. To explain his behavior, he said, "My grandfather's in the hospital. This might cheer him up."

Rey looked from the stuffed animal to Justin and back. "It's a little creepy, but if you think he'll like it…"

Justin snorted as he dropped it in the basket. "He's no ordinary grandfather. He'll _love_ it."

~~O~~

Rey and Justin went through the check-out line together, loaded up the cart and left the store. As it turned out, they were parked across from each other in the same aisle. He helped with her bags, though there was no need; she only had two. They stood there in awkward silence afterward, until Rey's phone beeped, reminding her of an appointment. "I gotta go. Would you like to get coffee sometime?"

At first, she thought he would say no. Then he smiled, and took out his phone. "Put your number in there, and I'll give you a call. Or you could call me." She handed over her phone.

They traded phones back, and he watched as she got in her car and drove away. The last thing she saw in her rear view mirror was Justin was waving. She just hoped he didn't realize who she was until later.

The idea of being set up on a blind date by a friend made her jittery. Running into Justin had been serendipitous. A happy accident. Now that first awkward meeting was out of the way, and they could move forward to the actual date without too much stress. Hopefully.

~~O~~

In the front seat of Bucky's SUV, Justin sat there with his hands on the steering wheel, thinking about Rey. He'd always been good at reading people. You had to be in order to succeed in the business world.

In spite of what he told Chase, the first thing he noticed about people he was attracted to, about anyone really, were the eyes. Blue eyes were predominant in his family. Maybe that's why he was attracted to almost any other color. Truth be told, hazel was his favorite.

Rey's eyes were big, and round, with an almost childlike innocence, green and honey brown melding under long dark lashes that he swore were real, and perfectly matched the sable brown of her shoulder length hair. And when the sunlight hit her eyes just right, flecks of orange and yellow sparkled like fairy lights on a Christmas tree. Those eyes reflected the child she once was, the woman she was now, and the old woman she would be, past, present, and future merging into one.

The tiny lines at the corners told her life story, though she would probably deny it. Rey not only loved life, she rejoiced in it. Every day was new and filled with adventure, whether teaching a Pilates class, hiking in the mountains, or singing karaoke with a man she'd just met. To her, _living_ was the biggest adventure of all. She seemed like the kind of woman who would dance like no one was watching, then blush from embarrassment at getting caught.

Justin judged her height at around five-five to his six-one. In heels she'd come up to his nose. The perfect height for slow dancing, or sneaking a kiss or two. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel as he imagined holding her body close, feeling her curves pressed against his chest, her warm breath whispering over the skin of his neck.

That he was attracted to her surprised him, yet it didn't. His door swung both ways, and right now, it was swinging in her direction, and only partly because she had the most amazing breasts he'd seen in a long time. Hers ranked right up there with Natasha's, though he'd never say so out loud to either of them, and especially not to Gramps.

Thinking of his grandfather reminded him of the stuffed animal. He pulled it out of the bag, and sat there staring at it wondering why he bought it in the first place. Gramps wasn't a stuffed animal kind of guy, and it wasn't especially attractive. In fact, Rey was right. It _was_ a bit creepy. Long fangs, a feral gleam in its black plastic eyes that were sewn unevenly on the face, and a long snout set in a snarl that made it look like it'd had bad plastic surgery. The tip of one pointy ear was bent, giving it a preposterous expression.

Natasha had arranged for the family to visit Gramps. They couldn't all go at once though, so it was decided that Joi would go first to let him know she didn't hold his actions against him. He'd let her give it to Gramps, and hope it made him feel better.

Justin wasn't sure how that would work. Deep inside, he felt as if this particular animal had some meaning beyond that of comfort or amusement. Shaking his head, he shoved the animal in the bag, started the engine, and headed back to the house.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Ice tinkled in the glass as Clint finished off the unsweetened iced tea. Serenity was there to take it, and as she'd been doing all morning, it was refilled and placed on the picnic table where it was out of the way, yet was readily accessible. He touched his hand to mouth, moving it forward and down, the ASL sign for thank you. She flashed NP, her version of "no problem."

He picked up the reciprocating saw, and thumbed the button to test it, but nothing happened. Muttering _damn_ under his breath, he tapped Serenity on the shoulder. _Where's Mia?_

 _Upstairs playing with the cats. They don't like the noise._

 _Don't blame them. Ask her to come down, please._

As her footsteps climbed the stairs, Clint received a text from Justin telling him he was on the way back. "It's about damn time," he said out loud instead of replying directly.

Taking out the tape measure, he went over his measurements one more time to be certain they were correct. They were.

Mia breezed onto the patio, her short hair fluttering in the gentle wind. "Whatcha need?"

Clint held up the saw. "It didn't charge. Do you mind?" With a grin, Mia pointed a finger, and a small arc of electricity strung itself between them, stopping after several seconds. Clint tried the saw again, and this time it worked. "Thanks."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah." He put on his safety glasses, and grinned. "You do birthday parties and Mitzvahs?"

Pursing her lips, Mia watched him with an unblinking stare for a few seconds. "I was raised to respect my elders. But in your case," she zapped him in the backside, making him yelp, "I'll make an exception."

He held the saw like a machinegun, revving it a few times. "Be careful how you treat an old man."

Mia snorted. "Old man, my _ass_. I saw you fighting those aliens. You're no more an old man than my Gramps is."

With that parting shot, the young woman went back inside. Through the hole in the wall, he watched her adjust the tarps they'd draped over the furniture, piano and electronic equipment until she was satisfied they were fully covered, then ambled into the kitchen. Just before he started drilling, the sound of cabinets opening and closing told Clint she was deciding what to make for dinner. He chuckled to himself, and got back to work.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

The quinjet landed with a mild thump, startling Joi. She'd already left when Bucky had been taken to a secret jail cell to be studied, poked and prodded like a laboratory animal. Or so said the picture in her head. What the reality was, she would soon find out. Though if Natasha were involved, there was no way scientists and researchers would experiment on him.

The whine of the engines stopped, and Natasha came to her side. "Before you can see James, we need you to sign one of our standard non-disclosure agreements. Anything you see, from the time you stepped into this ship, until you return home can't be discussed with anyone without similar access."

Joi took the tablet she held out, wondering, not for the first time, if everyone had gone mad but her. She quickly scanned through the legalese of the document, and while she didn't quite understand it all, she got the gist. "First rule of Fight Club: You don't talk about Fight Club. Got it."

Using her finger, Joi sketched her signature at the bottom, and handed the tablet back. Natasha tapped the screen, making the document official. If she violated the terms of the agreement, Joi would go to jail for a very long time. She had a show to win, a business to run, and a man she cared deeply about. No way she'd risk her freedom, her livelihood, or a chance at love just because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Now what?"

Natasha stood, and held out her hand. "Let's go see James."

Joi picked up her bag, and took Natasha's hand as if she were a child, when the truth was Joi was three years older than Natasha. "What about my bag? Don't you want to scan it or something?"

"Did that when you came on board. If you were smuggling weapons, drugs or chemicals, an alarm would've gone off." Natasha nodded. "Come on. He's anxious to see you."

They stepped out onto the deck of what looked like a huge aircraft carrier. Planes like the one she arrived in were anchored to the deck. Maintenance workers, and soldiers were running or walking from one place to the other, doing things that Joi could only guess at. "Is he still beating himself up over what happened?"

"He is. Talk to him. He didn't know what he was doing, but he still feels responsible."

The roar of another aircraft landing interrupted their conversation. Joi pulled Natasha to a stop so she could watch, fascinated by the craft's ability to land and take off vertically. Natasha tugged, and she stumbled along behind her until she caught up again. There was so much to see, that Joi couldn't take it all in. Right now, she had to focus on Bucky.

Up ahead, the lift doors opened, and a man dressed in black with an eye patch gave her a curious glance, then dismissed her presence as not important to the boat's operation. Though Natasha didn't say, Joi got the feeling that he was in charge. The BMOC, big man on the carrier. It was the air of confidence that surrounded him. Or it could've been the way everyone deferred to him as he strode purposely down the hall way, his boot heels ringing on the deck.

It didn't take long to reach what Natasha had called the detention level. And when she saw Bucky sitting in the middle of the cell, she ran forward, stopping at the barrier. "Gramps!"

Bucky scrambled to his feet, and rushed to her. "Joi! I'm so glad to see you, baby girl." He looked her over. "How do you feel?"

Tears welled up, but didn't fall. "Better now."

"I am so, so sorry I hurt you. Can you forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive. You weren't yourself."

He sagged in relief, noticing the bag she dropped at her feet. "You bring me something?"

"Yeah. It was Justin's idea." Joi touched the barrier, saying over her shoulder, "Can I go inside, Nat? Please?"

Though Joi couldn't see them, she sensed that there were armed men and women lurking about. Understandable, given the reason Bucky was brought here. For an answer, Natasha went to a large control panel, and the door slid open just long enough for her to step inside, then closed again.

She and Bucky hugged for a long time. Then Joi pushed out of his arms, and held up the bag. "It's from all of us. Justin chose it. Next time, _I'll_ buy the gift. His taste in gifts sucks." She pulled the toy out, and shook it at him. "I think it's supposed to be a wolf. You wanna see it?"

Immediately, Bucky's features went slack. His eyes lost all expression, as though he'd been emptied of everything that made him who he was. He took the wolf in his arms, holding it close, reminding Joi of Gracie and her stuffed bear, Horatio.

"Gramps?" He stared straight ahead, unseeing, and unresponsive. "Gramps?"

 **TBC**

 _Don't Go Breaking My Heart_ is a duet by Elton John and Kiki Dee. It was written by Elton John with Bernie Taupin, released June 1976.

 _Daydream Believer_ is a song composed by John Stewart shortly before he left the Kingston Trio. The song was originally recorded by The Monkees, with Davy Jones singing lead vocals.

 _Fight Club_ is a 1999 American film based on the 1996 novel of the same name by Chuck Palahniuk. The film was directed by David Fincher, and stars Brad Pitt, Edward Norton and Helena Bonham Carter. But you're not supposed to talk about it. ;-)


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 27**

"Nat!"

The walkway outside the cell filled with armed soldiers at the same time Natasha rushed to the door at Joi's call. The squad leader, a man by the name of Rumlow, waited for her signal, and opened the door. She rushed in, grabbed Joi and dragged her out. To one of the men, she said, "Take her."

As the man led her away, Joi dug in her heels. He gripped her arm, pulling her along. She jerked free, and he grabbed her again. "No! No! I have to… Let _go!_ He's my grandfather! I need to be here. Natasha, _please_. Don't let them take me away."

At the note of pleading in her voice, Natasha gave in. She raised her chin, and the man released Joi, though he stayed close by just in case. Bruce pushed his way through the crowd to Natasha's side, and Joi gripped his sleeve as he passed. "Help him!"

Natasha didn't think it was a good idea for Bruce to be here, and said so. "You should've stayed in your office, Bruce. I can handle this."

"It's okay." He waved Natasha back when she made to follow him into the cell, taking slow, measured steps so as not to startle Bucky, who was still holding the stuffed animal. "James, tell me about the wolf."

"Wolf?" He squeezed it, standing up straighter. His eyes stared vacantly over Bruce's shoulder. "What is the target?"

Natasha came to the doorway, and Bruce's hand came up to stop her. Behind his glasses, his eyes tracked back and forth as his thoughts chased each other. "Target?"

Bucky took a deep breath, let it out, and took another. "What target is to be eliminated?"

Bruce shot a look at her, both coming to the same conclusion: post-hypnotic suggestion. He moved a step closer, keeping his voice low, and controlled. "There's no target. Not at this time. You've performed well, James. There's just one thing I need you to do." Bucky's expression didn't change. "Before you go to bed tonight, you will write down the names of all targets you were assigned to eliminate, and the dates. When you do this, you will believe that you're writing a personal log of your headaches, dreams, and memory loss. Do you understand?"

There was hesitation, a pause as he worked out the order. "Yes, I understand."

~~O~~

Bruce motioned Natasha and Joi to him, whispering, "Natasha, clear the area. Just the three of us when I bring him out. And don't mention what happened, Joi. Not yet."

"What do I say? How do I act?" Joi wanted to know.

"Same as always. You're happy to see him. Can't wait for him to come home."

"Um, okay. What about that?" she pointed at the wolf.

Turning to look, Bruce sighed. "It appears that we've accidentally hit on the code phrase used by whoever has been violating his trust. The toy and the phrase are what precipitated this event. I'll get it from him, and Natasha will take it away. Once it's out of sight, I'll wake him."

Joi didn't like the idea that her grandfather had been manipulated by someone with harmful intentions. She looked over at Natasha. "Fight Club?"

Natasha nodded with a small grin. "Fight Club." Confused, Bruce looked to her for an explanation. "Later. Let's do this. Ready, Joi?"

"Yes." She moved over in front of Bucky.

Bruce took off his glasses and shoved them into the pocket of his lab coat. "Sit down, James." He took a seat on the floor with his legs crossed, and Joi did the same. "The wolf has to go away for a while, but he'll be back. Until then, you won't think about the wolf or what his purpose is." He held out a hand. Bucky gripped the stuffed animal by the scruff, and passed it to Bruce, who tossed it to Natasha. One of the guards took possession, and he and the rest faded out of sight once more. "I'm going to count down from five to one. When the count reaches one, you will be wide awake, fully alert, and completely refreshed. Five… Four… Three…"

~~O~~

In her head, Joi counted down with Bruce. He hit one, and she smiled as if all were right with the world. As if she and Bucky were in the middle of a conversation, she said, "…and _that's_ when the octopus tried to escape."

Bruce and Natasha chuckled from their place in the doorway. Bucky looked around, his forehead pinched in confusion. Bruce uncrossed his arms, and stepped inside. "Good to see you're feeling better, James."

Going with what Joi and Bruce were saying, Bucky held Joi's hand. "Having your favorite grandchild around will do that."

Pointing over her shoulder, Natasha smiled. "Bruce and I'll get out of here so the two of you can talk."

Before either of them could protest, the door closed, and they were alone. Bucky looked contrite, and a little embarrassed. "Thanks for coming, baby girl. What's going on at home? The cats miss me?"

"Of course. Serenity and Collin have been sleeping in your room, and every morning, they wake up covered in cats." She giggled. "The first time, they scared each other. The cats came running down the stairs to hide in the den."

"That's their favorite place to plot their revenge. There or the small bedroom." He pushed a hand through his hair. "Steve promised Carolyn he'd supervise the clean-up after the barbeque. How's that going?"

Joi shrugged one shoulder. "As well as you can expect while the repairs are being done."

"Um, repairs?"

She faked repentance. "I thought Nat told you. While you and Steve were fighting, you sort of crashed through the windows behind the piano and into the back yard. Left a _huge_ hole." Gripping his hand, she gave him a confident smile. "Don't worry. We'll get it done before Mom sees it. Clint's doing the work."

"He's a friend of Nat's."

"And a heck of a contractor. Only four days and he's nearly done. Mia, Justin, Chase, Collin and Serenity have been helping out."

Bucky got a strange look in his eyes. "What does he look like?"

Pursing her lips at the odd question, Joi brought Clint's face to mind. "Caucasian, brown hair, shorter than Collin, really strong, kind of old, mid-forties maybe." She waggled her hand. "Nothing special to look at."

"What kind of friend is he?"

Taken aback by his tone, she responded, "The usual kind, Gramps. They're besties, and work together. I'm surprised she's never introduced you."

He adjusted his position. "She's mentioned his name, but Natasha doesn't always tell me everything."

Joi gestured around them. "Don't blame her. All of this is…"

"Confidential." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky huffed. "Headache's back."

She took his hand again. "Want something for it?"

He shook his head. "Stopped working weeks ago. Not that it helped much before that." The look in his eyes told her he had something more on his mind. "So what's up with you and Steve? Are you back together?"

Blushing, Joi nodded. "Some good came out of whatever-that-was. It made us realize that we want to be together. He, uh, he even told me he loves me."

Shaking his head, Bucky made a good try at a smile. "Never in my life did I think my granddaughter and my best friend would be getting married."

Shocked, and more than a little surprised that he'd made that leap, Joi waved her hands. "Whoa! Slow your roll, Gramps. No one's getting _married_. We've only just gotten back together. It's a little soon to be talking about a wedding."

His shoulders went up around his ears and down again. "No rush. It's just that I'd like to be a great grandfather again before I turn a hundred." There was a knock at the door, and Natasha waved. Together, Joi and Bucky stood, and he drew her into a hug. "Looks like it's time for you to go. Will the others be coming?"

"Not sure. Mia's got school. Serenity and Collin took time off from work to help with the repairs, and Chase can work from the den in between helping Clint. I've been at the studio; the show's ending soon. And Justin…"

"What about him?"

Joi pursed her lips, looking for the right words. "He's been acting strange since the Fourth. Stranger than usual, I should say. And it got worse a few days ago, according to Mia. He came home from the store, and had a weird look on his face. Wouldn't tell anyone what was going on, but we all knew something was up."

"Any guesses as to what it might be?"

She held up a finger. "Just one. He met someone, and doesn't want to jinx it by talking about him-or her-too soon."

Again, Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Reasonable." At the door, he hugged her again. "Thanks for coming, Ez. Give everyone my love."

"I will… James." Joi winked as she stepped through the door, and it closed behind her.

~~O~~

Bucky watched his granddaughter being escorted from the area by one of the guards. Bruce was long gone, leaving Bucky and Natasha alone. He paced the perimeter of the room over to his left, turned and came back, thinking about the moments he'd zoned out. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember the beginning of the conversation with Joi that concluded with something about an octopus.

Natasha stood outside, arms crossed, watching him pace. "Is something wrong?"

He paced in a circle in front of her, rubbing the back of his head, and thinking hard. The headache hadn't abated. Instead, it had gotten worse, making his neck and shoulders ache. "I'm not sure. It's like there's a voice inside my head that's so soft I can barely hear it, can't understand what it's saying. Could I be experiencing the onset of schizophrenia, bipolar or even dementia?"

"With your unique physiology, I suppose anything's possible."

Putting that aside for now, Bucky let his eyes roam over Natasha's petite form, and for some reason, he kept getting a vision of her with another man. He was faceless, and much younger than Bucky. With difficulty, he kept his suspicions to himself, saying instead, "Could I get a pad and pen?"

"I'll check into it. Why?"

"Thought I'd make a log of when the headaches start and stop, how I'm feeling, mentally and physically at the time. Might help Bruce figure this out."

She nodded, her expression showing approval. "I'll make it happen, James. Hungry?"

Bucky rubbed a hand over his stomach. "Does the mess hall, or whatever you call it, have chicken and dumplings?"

"Don't know, but I'll find out."

Her hand touched the clear barrier, and it was obvious that she expected him to do so as well, but he couldn't. Not while his thoughts were so disordered.

Disappointed, Natasha backed up, turned and strode quickly down the hallway, and out of sight.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Mia found Chase in front of Bucky's computer. He was sitting back, the left ankle on his right knee, hand to his chin in thought. She came around to look over his shoulder at what he was doing. The only thing on the monitor was Bucky's contact list. The toolbar indicated that another file was open. It was labeled _Canis lupus_.

"Why are you going though Gramps' computer?"

"Looking for a clue as to why he hasn't been himself lately." He clicked on the second file. "Found this hidden deep in his files, under several layers of encryption. Didn't know Gramps knew how to do that."

She pulled a chair over and sat down. "Gray wolf?"

"That's not even the weird part. The only thing in the folder is audio files dating back over fifteen years. The same song over and over." A few more taps on the keys, and a calendar popped up. "I ran an analysis, and the audio files were all received exactly twenty-four hours before he went to an appointment with his shrink. Coincidence? I think not."

Slanting her eyes to the left, Mia found Chase looking back, and grinned. "We should pay the shrink a visit. Convince him to let us see Gramps' file. You be the brains," she cupped her right hand, and a ball of electricity formed inside, "and I'll be the brawn."

"Sounds like a plan. It's still early. This guy Heath is probably still at his office, you think?"

"Can't hurt to take a drive over. It's not far." Looking at their work clothes covered with dust and dirt, she grinned. "Let's not change. Might be more intimidating this way."

Chase pushed back from the desk, and stood, leading way. He snagged the keys to his SUV from the table by the stairs, and opened the front door. Mia had only gotten one foot over the threshold when Clint's voice called out.

"Where're you two headed?"

Mia huffed to keep from fidgeting. "It was supposed to be a surprise. We deserve a treat for all this hard work, so Chase and I thought we'd get pizza and the makings for banana splits." She held her breath, hoping she didn't betray her nervousness at lying.

Clint didn't appear to have seen anything amiss, but then his expression was unreadable most of the time. "Don't forget sprinkles. And don't get the whipped cream from the freezer. Get the good stuff."

The cousins made their escape, and at the light, Chase shook his head. "I thought for sure we'd been made."

"Yeah. Clint's easy. We'd never have gotten away with it if Nat was here."

A short drive later, they parked across the street from the office of Dr. Edgar Heath. They got out, Chase locked the doors, and they jogged across the street to the small two-story medical building. The sun hadn't been down long, so the lobby was still unlocked.

Checking the directory, they found Heath's office was on the second floor in the rear. Good. He wouldn't see them coming until it was too late.

When they reached the office, Mia almost laughed out loud, mitigating it to a snort. Heath's security, his first line of defense against intruders after hours, was an electronic lock, probably controlled from the receptionist's desk. Easy-peasy.

Mia rubbed her forefinger and thumb together, and pointed at the metal plate. The door opened with a click. Chase flashed her an admiring grin, which she returned with a cheeky eyebrow lift, and they ducked inside. Through the inner door, they could hear the click-clack of computer keys.

Chase drew himself up to his full six feet, unbuttoned the shirt he wore over a wife-beater, and with a nod, flung the door open. The man behind the desk looked like your stereotypical soccer dad. Dark hair, five o'clock shadow, wide-set eyes under bushy brows, close to fifty. Chase guessed his height at over six feet, weight upwards of two-twenty-five. He appeared scared for a brief moment, relaxing once he got a good look at them. "I don't take walk-ins. Office hours are 8:00am to 7:00pm, Monday to Thursday, and 8:00am to 4:30pm on Fridays. Call my assistant for an appointment."

He placed his hands on the keyboard, and resumed working, dismissing them as if they were unimportant. That he didn't see them as a threat irritated Mia. Chase too.

"We're here to talk to you about one of your patients. James Barnes."

The man looked them over with disdain. "You both seem fairly intelligent, so you should know that I can't turn over records without a court order. If you had one, you'd have come during the day." A cell phone appeared in his hand. "Now _leave_ before I call the police."

~~O~~

Despite his bravado, Heath was uneasy at their intrusion, and Chase used that to their advantage. "We can't be bothered with legalities. Give us everything you have on James Barnes, and we'll go. No harm, no foul."

Heath actually laughed. "Or what? You're just a couple of punk kids. The police will deal with you." He powered up his phone, but didn't get a chance to dial. Chase motioned, and Mia zapped the device out of his hand. "Ow!"

To add insult to injury, Mia used a stronger discharge to completely fry the phone's circuitry. Heath's jaw dropped open, snapped closed, and he swallowed convulsively.

Chase crossed his arms, and took what he hoped was an intimidating stance. "I don't like repeating myself. Give us the information or my companion here might get a little annoyed with you."

"I could lose my license if I handed over a patient's personal medical information without their consent or a court order."

Done being nice, Chase placed a hand on the desk, and leaned forward so that the desk lamp was shining on the right side of his face. He wasn't smiling. "You'll lose more than your license if you don't."

Still, the man was hesitant. Chase backed off. Mia took his unvoiced cue, and hit Heath again and again. Each, time the charge was a little stronger. The last one snapped and crackled, leaving a smell of ozone in the air. Heath twitched, gritting his teeth, and moaning in pain. Mia released him, and he stared at her, panting. She raised her hand again, and Heath ducked in surrender. "No more! I-I'll give you everything."

"Yes, you will." One hand went into Chase's pocket, coming out with a flash drive. He tossed it to the shrink. "Load it onto that. We want the hard copies, and any other media too."

Mia moved over to the file cabinet. Heath pointed to the top drawer of his desk. "The keys are in there."

Chase gestured for him to proceed. The drawer opened, and in less than the blink of an eye, Heath held a gun in his right hand. He gestured with the muzzle, and Chase joined Mia by the file cabinet. "I don't know who you are, but you have no idea with whom you are dealing."

He cocked the hammer, and Chase stepped in front of Mia, bracing for the searing pain he knew was to come. Then Heath cried out, and the gun flew from his hand. Startled, Chase picked it up.

"Neither do you, pal."

The voice was familiar. Too familiar. The cousins lifted their heads, and turned around to see Clint in the doorway. He motioned, and they quickly moved over to stand to one side and slightly behind him. Out the side of his mouth, Chase said, "What're you doing here?"

"Saving your lives." He directed his next words at Heath again. "I believe my colleagues gave you an order. Might want to get on that ASAP."

"Why would I do that? They tried to kill me."

Clint took a step forward, retrieved his boot knife from the top of the desk, and shoved the thumb of his right hand into his belt. "And _you_ tried to kill _them_." His tone was matter of fact, and strangely, edged with boredom. He shrugged when the psychologist didn't move. "Suit yourself, but you should know that they're James Barnes' grandchildren. Barnes is in the hospital, and not expected to make it through the night. It's a desperate situation, and desperate people can be dangerous." Clint nodded to Mia. She took his cue and created an intense electrical field between her hands.

"Okay. Okay!" The older man returned to his seat behind the desk, inserted the flash drive in a port on the side of the monitor.

But something wasn't right about the cadence of his typing. Chase lunged forward. "Stop him! He's purging the files!"

Before Chase could even think about making a move against Heath, Clint picked up a glass knick-knack, and threw it at the man's head, knocking him out. He went behind the desk and pushed the unconscious body to the floor. "Chase?"

~~O~~

Clint stood back to let Chase get to the computer. He typed furiously for about sixty seconds then slammed his fists down on the desk. "Dammit! It's gone. All of it. Not just Gramps' file, but everything. Even the photos of his _dog_."

Mia was already at the file cabinet, stepping carefully over the man on the floor. Clint took the key from the desk and tossed it to her. She unlocked the drawer, and pulled it open, jumping back a moment later when they heard a snap-pop, and fire flared within the cabinet, quickly consuming the contents. A spark flew up, carried on the air currents from the A/C, setting the curtains alight.

"S***! Out! Now!" Clint ordered, assuming that the kids would obey. He rolled Heath over, and got him into a fireman's carry. When he reached the hall, Mia and Chase were holding the door to the stairwell open. Clint hustled through, and down the stairs with them right behind him. Just before they hit the fire exit in the back hallway, Clint pulled the fire alarm.

He carried the psychologist to the parking lot as far from the building as he could, and laid him in the grass. Together, the trio looked up to where flames were dancing in the window of the office they'd just left. Far away, and getting closer, they heard the wailing of sirens.

Clint pointed a finger at the kids. "We'll talk about this when we get home. Now _go_. Get out of here! And don't forget the pizza and ice cream." They scrambled into the vehicle without a word. When they'd gone, Clint jogged to the next street over, hopped on the bike he'd borrowed, and headed in the same direction.

He pulled into the driveway, but didn't see Chase's SUV. For a brief moment, he thought about tracking him through his cell phone. Then Serenity came out the front door, waving to get his attention.

 _Is something wrong?_

Smiling, Clint signed back _No. Just had to run down to the corner_.

 _Know where Mia and Chase are?_

Lying came easy to him, but then this wasn't really a lie. _Getting dinner. Should be back soon_.

Satisfied with his explanation, the young woman went inside, leaving Clint to wait for Bucky's wayward grandchildren by himself. They pulled into the driveway and parked next to Bucky's SUV a few minutes later.

Clint went to help them with the pizza boxes and bags bearing the name of a popular grocery store just down the street. Both averted their eyes as they went inside, and straight to the kitchen. Justin, Serenity, Collin and the cats all came running at the smell of food.

The ice cream went into the freezer, the whipped cream in the 'fridge, and the rest they put on the counter.

Everyone served themselves, and went into the dining room to eat. Before they could sit down, Clint tapped the two would-be law-breakers, motioning them into the den. He took a huge bite of his pizza, and set the plate on the desk so he could sign. That way, the others wouldn't know what they'd been up to.

 _What the_ _hell_ _were you thinking? You could've gotten yourselves_ _killed!_

 **TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 28**

Chastised, the cousins shared a look, and a shrug, Chase signing _We were thinking we could help Gramps by finding out what the shrink's game plan was._

He went to the computer, and pulled up the _Canis lupus_ folder, the calendar, and the results of his investigation. Keeping his voice low, he explained for Clint's benefit, "I did an analysis…"

"I see. Good call on that doctor's motives not being kosher, though _not_ on confronting him yourselves. Next time, tell me or Nat." Clint took out his phone, and made a quick call, giving Heath's name and office address, adding, "Take him into custody. I'll be on the boat in thirty. No one talks to him but me. _No one_. Especially not Romanoff." The phone went into Clint's back pocket, and out came a thumb drive. He inserted it into the USB, reaching over Chase to tap a command into the system. A few seconds later, it beeped, and the drive went back into his pocket. He picked up his pizza, and turned toward the door. "I'll be back before morning. Not a word to the others."

Chase looked at Mia, and shrugged. Apparently having taken their agreement for granted, Clint opened the den door, turning back just long enough to say, "Save my dessert. Oh, and you forgot the sprinkles. And lock the gun in the safe." At their expressions of surprise, he grinned. "Thought I forgot about it, didn't you?"

With that parting shot, Clint was gone. The front door slammed, and a moment later, they heard the whine of his plane taking off from the field. This time, he'd cloaked it so no one would see it during the day. How he kept people from running into it when they crossed the field, Chase didn't know, and sensed he shouldn't ask. Like Natasha, there was more to Clint than met the eye. Way more, and Chase wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Pushing away from the desk, Chase stood, thinking about all that had happened in just a few hours. He looked at Mia, and she looked back with a scowl. "I thought _you_ got the sprinkles."

~~O~~

"Hmph."

Mia followed Chase into the den closet. They pushed the jackets and sports equipment aside, and he opened the secret panel in the wall. "If I were Gramps, what would be the combination?"

"His birthday, Grams' birthday, Mom's birthday. Too many options. So what do we do with it?" They backed out of the closet, Mia thinking hard. "We'll just have to hide it somewhere no one else will look." The cousins glanced around the room, and back to each other. "I got nothing."

Chase snapped his fingers, and shoved the gun in the back of his pants. "Gazebo. I'll go."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Natasha was waiting for Clint when he jogged down the ramp of the quinjet, falling into step as they entered the hatch. In operations, Hill's night replacement roamed the upper deck, hands behind his back, stopping here and there to peer over the shoulders of the techs.

"Kripke."

He turned at the sound of his name, and made his way quickly to the center station. "Good evening, Agents. The squad we sent to pick up Dr. Heath is on its way back as we speak. Less than ten minutes out."

Clint dipped his chin. "Have Heath taken directly to auxiliary detention. We don't want Barnes to know he's on board. I'll do the interrogation myself." He handed the flash drive to Kripke. "Get a tech on this ASAP. The audio files in the folder marked _Canis lupus_ were sent through a series of anonymous servers. I need a known location."

"Yes, sir."

He left operations with Natasha on his heels. "I'm doing this with you."

"No, you're not. You have too much invested in Barnes to be objective." She grabbed his arm, and pulled him to a stop. One side of Clint's mouth turned up. "If he doesn't cooperate, _then_ you can take over."

She huffed at him. "Don't like it, but I'll take it."

They continued walking. "How _is_ Barnes?"

"Not good. There was an incident while Joi was here." She put her hand up. "She wasn't hurt, but we did confirm what we've suspected: someone had planted post-hypnotic suggestions."

Clint snorted. "It was that ******* shrink. Told you they can't be trusted. Why else would he purge all of his files and flash-bang the hard copies just to get rid of Barnes' info?"

The PA came on. " _Agents Barton and Romanoff to the deck stat!_ "

They hit the deck as a quinjet came in for a landing, stepping aside for the medical personnel that spilled out pushing a stretcher. The ramp lowered, and two men came down carrying Heath between them. They laid him on the stretcher, and the medics rushed back inside.

Natasha motioned Rumlow over. From his expression, it didn't look good. "The prisoner began convulsing and foaming at the mouth just after the pilot informed us we'd be landing. He was thoroughly search when we got him on board."

"Did he say anything?"

"Not a word the entire ride. He was seen at Metro General Hospital's ER, and we picked him up before he could get in a cab. The only injury was a bruise on his head. Guessing that's from where you bounced something off it."

Natasha crossed her arms, tapping her heel on the deck. "You searched him. How did he get the cyanide?"

Rumlow shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno. I personally had eyes on him at all times."

Clint's hand went to his left ear, listening to a voice. His shoulders slumped. "Thanks, doc." To Natasha and Rumlow, he said, "Heath didn't make it. There'll be an autopsy, but the doc says you were right, Nat. Cyanide poisoning."

Bruce's voice broke in. " _Romanoff and Barton to ops stat!_ "

~~O~~

" _Dr. Banner. A word please._ "

The cultured British voice that belonged Tony's AI, Jarvis, interrupted Bruce staring at the hologram floating in the middle of the room. "Go ahead, Jarvis."

" _I've completed the analysis you requested, sir. The object in question isn't metal at all. It's a receiver/transmitter made of silicone. One can only assume that it was put there by the individuals responsible for General Barnes' incidents the past few days, perhaps months, or even years. Not only will it give his location, there is also a small amount of explosive included in its composition. Just enough to render the General brain dead if it were set off._ "

Bruce cleared the hologram, and activated another in its place, this one zeroing in Jarvis' analysis of the brain scan. He whipped his glasses off, and hit the deck at a run, arriving in operations within moments. "Kripke, I need you to throw a jamming field around Barnes' cell. Hurry!"

Kripke nodded to one of the techs, a young man with dark curly hair. He tapped furiously at his keyboard, and hit enter. "Done."

"What's going on, doc?"

Bruce ignored Kripke, and hit the comm button on the main control panel. "Romanoff and Barton to ops stat!"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Natasha and Clint arrived on the scene. The look in Natasha's eyes was painful to see. The woman seldom let her emotions get the best of her, and that she was doing so now said much about her feelings for Bucky. "Bruce?"

He handed her the tablet, scrolling to the brain scan. "I had Jarvis do a comprehensive scan to augment what I'd already done, and this is what he found." Bruce swiped across the tablet's screen, and the information jumped to the boat's main display. "That piece of metal is a GPS. We're jamming it for the moment, but it has to come out."

Natasha aimed her next question to the curly-haired man. "Klein, what's General Barnes up to?"

"He's asleep, ma'am." Klein handed her a pad and pen. "He asked that this be given to Dr. Banner."

She took the pad, and tucked it under her arm. "When he wakes up, I'll tell him what's going on and…"

"We don't have time for _deliberation_. I meant it has to come out _now_. The transmitter includes an explosive. I don't have to tell you what it means for him if it goes off." He touched her on the arm. "It's up to you to make this happen."

Her eyes darted around the men around her, and nodded. "Set it up. I'll read him in."

~~O~~

Bucky rolled over and sat up when the lights came on in his cell. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned, and got to his feet. Natasha activated the comm. "Sorry to wake you, James."

"S'okay. Was having another bad dream. What's up?"

A medical team arrived with a stretcher, and a squad armed with tranq guns. "There's been a complication. You're being taken to surgery to remove that piece of metal in your head."

"Why? I thought it was no big deal."

Bruce stepped forward, and Clint came up on Natasha's other side. Bucky gave Clint a curious glance, and came back to Natasha. "We can talk details later." One of the medics handed her a set of scrubs, which she passed to Bucky. "You trust me?"

"You know I do, or I wouldn't have signed the POA. Please tell me what it's about."

Bruce shifted his feet. "That bit of metal in your brain isn't what we thought it was. It has to come out."

Bucky opened and closed his mouth, not satisfied with the non-answer, but willing to go along with them for now. "Okay." He turned his back to quickly change into the green scrubs.

Natasha picked up his clothes. "You might want to sit down for this next step, _lyubimaya_."

He did as she asked, and pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, not even flinching when Bruce jabbed the needle into his bicep. Turning his arm over, he examined the spot. "How long will it take to…"

Clint joined Bruce and Natasha, all three looking down at Bucky's unconscious form. They exchanged wry grins. "Not long," Bruce answered, and motioned the medics in. "I'll scrub in with Dr. Toledano."

With a few taps on his tablet, Bruce sent Bucky's most recent scans to the med bay. In the med bay, Clint and Natasha went to stand at the window that looked into the OR while he scrubbed up. "I'll just be observing. But I want to be available just in case there are complications. And they won't have to shave his head. We'll use a minimally invasive procedure."

Natasha flashed him a grateful smile, and returned to watching the surgical team prep Bucky for surgery.

 **Joi's Apartment**

 **Washington D.C.**

Lounging in the bathroom doorway watching Joi wash her face, Steve caught her reflection, and smiled. "So what's your answer?"

She rinsed the special cleanser from her face, and he handed her a towel. With a small sideways glance, she patted her face dry, and hung the towel on the bar just inside the door. As she went to pass him, Steve put his arm out to stop her. She sighed, and took hold of his hand, leading him into the living room to the sofa, motioning for him to sit, and taking a seat next him with one leg curled under. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yes." He reached for her hand, and she moved it out of the way.

"I'm just not ready for more at the moment. Not that I'm ruling out us living together or getting married at some time in the future. It's just that…"

Steve's phone played the song _Spiders and Snakes_ , a call from Natasha, which he ignored. The ringtone had been changed by Clint, and he couldn't change it back. She stood, and he did too, pulling her into his arms for a kiss. "I should go."

Joi's hands gripped his arms below the biceps, loosening enough to glide up the outside to his shoulders. "You can stay for a little while, can't you?"

"What's that line from the movies about the Italian gangsters?"

" _The Godfather_? I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse."

He leaned down as Joi tilted her face up for another kiss. They pulled apart when Steve's phone rang again. He pressed his forehead to hers, and heaved a long sigh. Keeping one arm around her, he answered the call with an irritated, "Rogers… Yes, I'm with Joi… Okay. We're on our way." The phone went into his back pocket. "Get dressed. We're going to the helicarrier. They're taking Bucky into surgery."

Joi went into the bedroom to change, while Steve paced as much as possible in the confines of her small living room.

" _Why is Gramps getting surgery? He was fine when I left._ "

"Natasha didn't say. Just that we should be there when he wakes up."

She came out of the bedroom hopping on one foot them the other as she pulled on a pair of sneakers without bothering to untie them. "I don't think I can take much more of this. I just may go medieval on someone's a**."

"Medieval?"

Grabbing her purse, and Steve's hand, Joi headed for the door. "I'll explain on the way. Does your status as Captain America give you carte blanche to break traffic laws?"

He grinned as they ran down the stairs to his car. "Let's find out."

 **A Few Minutes Later**

Steve ignored the snickering coming from the passenger seat as the cop came back to the driver's window. He handed the tablet over for a signature, and Steve signed. The cop tore off a receipt, and passed it to Steve along with his license. "Keep the speed down from now on, son. And next time, come up with a better story to get out of it than 'I'm Captain America'."

"Thank you, officer. It won't happen again."

The cop snorted. "That's what they _all_ say." He tipped his hat, and returned to his cruiser.

Steve shifted into gear, signaled, and pulled into traffic. "Go ahead. Let it out."

Joi burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "The look on your face when he said, 'You don't look anything like him'."

He braked to a stop at the light. "How can I not look anything like Captain America? I _am_ Captain America."

"Maybe if you struck a heroic pose." She jammed her fists into her hips, and jutted her chin out.

"What's that line from _Star Wars_? 'Laugh it up, fuzzball'."

She snickered again. "You know I'm not keeping this a secret, right?"

Steve sighed with resignation as he turned onto the road that would take them to the helicarrier. "Guess not. Can we wait until Bucky's home to embarrass me?"

"Of course."

 **At an Unknown Location**

"Sir?"

The woman in black approached her superior boldly and without fear. Not like others who gave the appearance of mentally groveling. He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip, setting it back in its proper place in the table setting. "Yes?"

"The device has gone dark." She handed him the tablet, and stepped back with her hands behind her back in an attitude of respect. "We can only assume it's been deactivated, or removed."

He perused the information, and handed the tablet back, already bored with the subject. "Make contact with our person on the inside for confirmation. If the device has been compromised, have it taken care of."

He didn't need to explain. The woman knew how to handle orders without having the details laid out for her.

"Immediately, sir."

She turned on her heel, and was gone. With a long, annoyed sigh, he went back to his meal. Their plans to retire the Asset, and bring his replacement into play would have to be accelerated. Within the next few weeks. There was still much to do. The new Asset would need to have his conditioning completed. The subject's mind was pliable when it came to the post-hypnotic suggestions, yet he resisted the physical training that would turn him into one of their best assets to date. They would have to do something about that, and soon.

Picking up his phone, he dialed a number from memory. "Thank you for taking my call… We have taken steps to replace the compromised Asset with the new recruit… True, Senator… Once the facility has been prepared, we'll activate him, and proceed with the training schedule. By the time Insight comes online he will be fully prepared to act on our behalf… Unfortunately, our programmer has been compromised as well… No, sir. The activation protocols are in place. We'll need another programmer to take his place… My suggestion is someone the new Asset would not suspect… Yes, sir. We do have confirmation of the programmer's death… No, the Asset has been deprogrammed at the source, and the control device removed. So said our operative… He was a party to the programmer's exfiltration, and instrumental in his death, as well as the removal of the device… Absolutely, Senator Pierce. Hail HYDRA."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

The quinjet landed, and Steve escorted Joi to the bottom of the ramp where they were met by Bruce. They shook hands, and he led the way to the far end of the deck. "You'll be happy to know that the surgery went very well, aside from his high tolerance to anesthesia."

Joi sighed with relief. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's in recovery, and should be waking up soon." Bruce pointed his chin ahead of them. "We're taking a quick side trip first."

"And that is?" Steve wanted to know.

Bruce nodded to a group of men and women surrounding a box sitting on the deck. "The chip we found while doing a brain scan turned out to be similar to a sub-q transmitter. When activated, it provided anyone who knew the frequency with his location. If that's all it did, we could've disabled it with an EM pulse." Joi grabbed Steve's hand, holding tight. "Jarvis found that the composition included an explosive that, when detonated, would at best, render your grandfather brain dead, and at worst, kill him, and anyone standing close. There's nothing to worry about. It's out now, and he should be himself in a day or so."

They came to a stop beside Rumlow. To Bruce, Steve said, "This isn't the med bay."

"It's better. You're just in time for the show." Bruce nodded to Rumlow. "Whenever you're ready."

The soldier held up a detonator, and grinned. "Fire in the hole." He pressed the button, and the box exploded. As explosions go, it was a small one, but more than enough to do severe damage to a person's frontal lobe.

The grip on Steve's hand tightened, and Joi swayed. "Th-that was in his _head_?"

"Unfortunately, yes. On the bright side, we removed it before any harm was done."

Joi released his hand abruptly, and got up in Bruce's face, waving her arms. "No _harm_? What do you call everything that's been happening to him for months? It could've been going on for _years_ , and he just didn't remember, or didn't tell us. He could've died at any moment for God know how long!" She turned and stalked away.

Steve gave Bruce an apologetic shrug, and followed, quickly catching up. "Where're you going?"

"To see my grandfather. You're welcome to join me, but don't even try to stop me."

"Wouldn't dare. Besides, I want to see him too."

Her footsteps faltered. She looked at him and away. "Sorry. I keep forgetting that the two of you have been friends since forever. Steve, how could something like this have happened without anyone knowing?"

"Whoever they are, they're staying under the radar. Way under. At least now he won't have that threat hanging over his head."

At the door that would take her into the depths of the boat, Joi stopped and looked back at Bruce. He and the guy with the accent were talking, supposedly about the device they'd just exploded. "I should apologize to Bruce."

Steve took her hand. "I'm sure he understands. Let's go see if Bucky's awake."

~~O~~

With the successful surgery behind them, Natasha could relax for a while. She returned to her room to shower and change clothes. Standing in front of the mirror drying her hair, Natasha closed her eyes, relieved that Bucky would be okay. There were still the post-hypnotic suggestions with which they had to deal, but that would be easy compared to fending off an alien invasion.

She tossed the towel over the back of a chair, and pulled on a black top to go with her green slacks, and black boots. Her hair curled as it dried aided by the brush she drew through the shoulder length auburn strands.

The brush was returned to the bedside table, Natasha's eyes falling on the pad Klein had given her from Bucky. She thumbed through the pages, anger, shock, and so much more building until she wanted to hit someone, or something. It couldn't have been written by anyone _but_ Bucky; she recognized his handwriting.

As Bruce had suggested when he'd gone into a trance, Bucky had made a list of the targets he'd been assigned to take out. One troubling fact was that he'd written it in Russian. She'd been teaching him, but he wasn't nearly fluent enough to write in the language without lots of help.

However, what disturbed her even more was the names, dates, and places. Especially the two at the bottom of the last page.

Taking the pad, Natasha left her room, striding purposely through the corridor. She tapped her headset. "Romanoff to Barton."

" _Barton._ "

"Meet me on deck ASAP."

There was a pause, then Clint's voice resumed without inflection. "Will do. Could I get a hint what it's about?"

"No. And come alone. Do _not_ bring Rogers or Joi."

~~O~~

Natasha burst into the open air, pacing in a circle to keep from screaming or hitting someone. Clint grabbed her arm to stop her. "What's going on, Nat?"

She handed him the pad, watching him flip the pages while tapping her foot. When he got to the last page, he inhaled hard, his eyes finding hers in the twilight that came just before the sun completely set. "If this is true, Rogers will s**t a brick."

"I'm not doing so well myself." Natasha wrapped her arms around herself. "You and I made the choice to do what we do. James wasn't given that option. How do I tell Steve…"

"Tell me what?" The two agents spun around, and were confronted by Steve without Joi, every line in his body radiating aggression. He came to stand in front of Natasha and Clint, his eyes flitting from one to the other. "If it's about Bucky, I have a right to know."

Natasha handed him the pad, watching him flip through it without comprehension. Her eyes met his, wanting to look away, and knowing she couldn't. "It's a list of people who've died over the last fifty years. Some from what was deemed natural causes. Others from accidents. At no time was there any indication of foul play in their deaths. However, the last on the list is still alive."

"I don't read Russian, but that looks like _my_ name."

"Because it is." Natasha moved to Steve's side, indicating the name above.

Steve's hand clenched on the pad, crushing it. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his breathing sped up. He softly whispered just one word. A name. "Peggy."

 **TBC**

 _Spiders & Snakes_ is a 1974 hit song recorded by Jim Stafford and written by Stafford and David Bellamy.

 _The Godfather_ is a 1972 American crime drama film directed by Francis Ford Coppola and produced by Albert S. Ruddy from a screenplay by Mario Puzo and Coppola. Starring Marlon Brando and Al Pacino as the leaders of the fictional Corleone New York crime family.

Do I really have to tell you what _Star Wars_ is? ;-)


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

This chapter includes something that was sort of requested by one of my readers, Black' Victor Cachat.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 29**

Someone pulled at the pad crushed in Steve's hand, and he let go. "It's not possible. Bucky would _never_ hurt Peggy."

Natasha wrapped her hand around his forearm and squeezed. "You were there, Steve. James wasn't himself. Who knows what he could've done in that state."

Clint held the pad up. "So let's prove he's innocent. Do we have any evidence that Barnes was anywhere near Carter's nursing home the night she died?"

"Never needed any before," Natasha stated. "Let's go get some."

The three friends made their way to operations. Kripke was still on duty, due to switch out with another officer for the night. As Steve hoped, Klein was at his station. Ignoring Kripke, Steve dropped into the seat next to the comm tech, leaning an elbow on the edge of the station. "I need a huge favor, Cameron." He took out his notebook, and tore out a page with several dates written down. "The man that's in the main detention cell, James Barnes. I need you to ascertain his whereabouts on these dates." He looked up at Natasha.

"He wasn't at home on that last date. We need to know where he went, and what he did. Specifically, if he was in the vicinity of the Innisbrook Extended Care Center in Springfield, Virginia."

Klein inhaled sharply, glanced from Natasha to Steve, dropped his eye to his computer, and began tapping away. "Yes, sir. I, uh, should I call you when I've found something?"

Steve wrote his phone number on the back of the page with the dates. "Please. As soon as possible."

Outside operations, Steve crossed his arms, thinking about Klein's reaction to his request. It was almost as if he knew something. What he didn't see was Natasha and Clint communicating silently behind his back. "Did Cameron seem nervous to you?"

Clint shrugged. "No more than usual."

"I'm going to check on Bucky."

~~O~~

Without a word, Steve strode away from the partners, leaving them standing. When his footsteps could no longer be heard, Natasha sighed. "He thinks we're hiding something."

Clint snorted. "We _are_. It's need-to-know, and he doesn't need to know. Having that info wouldn't make any difference, except that he'd be pissed at both of us, and both of _them_ for keeping secrets. And remember, it was Fury's idea."

Natasha crossed her arms, and tapped her fingers against her bicep. "I'm going to talk to Bruce. The lab's been doing an analysis of the music we were listening to that night to see if there're hidden messages."

"Did anything else weird happen that night? Anyone react to the music in a not-normal way besides Barnes?"

She tilted her head as if listening to something only she could hear. "Justin. When James became violent, he just sat there, frozen. We thought he was scared, but that's not it. Considering his actions later, it was more like he was in a trance. Collin used a stinger on him, and he was himself when he came to."

"You could've had Mia zap him instead of wasting a stinger." Clint's tone indicated experience.

"She got you good, didn't she?"

He sliced a hand through the air, a wry grin on his face. "Knocked me on my a**."

They turned as one, headed for Bruce's lab. "So, what d'you think of my grandkids?"

A chuckle came out as he called for the lift. "Grandkids? You're the same age as them, and Rogers' girlfriend is three years older."

Natasha chose the floor, and the doors closed. "When James and I get married, I'll be their step-grandmother. That makes them 'my grandkids'."

"Married?" Clint's voice rose up a half octave on the end. "When did _that_ happen?"

"As soon as he's over whatever's wrong with him. I put it out there so he'd have an added incentive to get better."

The lift stopped, and the partners got out. "That should do it."

~~O~~

Cameron Klein finished entering the algorithm, and hit enter, beginning the hurry-up-and-wait portion of the program. Not bothering to check with Kripke, he pushed away from his workstation, and hurried from ops. Taking out his phone, he found a spot where three corridors came to a junction creating a cubbyhole. This particular junction had a blind spot where there were no cameras. He'd also cut off the audio just in case. Not everyone knew who he really was, and he liked it that way. He'd gotten to his current position on his own merits, and not on the coattails of a well-connected family member. If people knew, they'd treat him differently.

He hit speed dial, waiting anxiously for an answer.

" _Carter._ "

"It's Cam, Shar. Your cousin."

She snickered. " _I know who you are, Cam._ "

"Just shut up for a minute!" So anxious to relay his news, Cameron started panting. "There's- I-I'm running a-a program, and-well, it's a…"

The female voice cut him off, " _Cam! Slow. Down. Take deep breaths… in, and out. Now speak. And use complete sentences._ "

"Captain Rogers asked me to do a search regarding the man in our holding cell, General Barnes. Wants to know if he was seen near Aunt Peg's nursing home the night she died."

There was a long pause then his cousin's voice came back on. " _That explains why a lot. What're you thinking?"_

"Same thing you are. That Barnes was involved somehow. He knew Aunt Peg. They worked together during and after the war, and Captain Rogers is his best friend. How could anyone, especially Captain Rogers, think he'd have anything to do with her death?"

" _We'll just have to wait for the results of your program._ " A voice interrupted, muffled when she pressed the phone to her chest. Then, she came back on. " _Sorry, Cam. I have to go. Keep me in the loop._ "

"You got it. Oh! How's that undercover op going?"

" _So-so. If my mark would stop coming and going at all hours of the night, it would help a lot._ " Cameron didn't say anything. The good thing about that was he and his cousin were as close as siblings. She knew what was bothering him, besides their aunt's death. " _Still peeved you didn't qualify for field work?_ "

He shrugged even though she couldn't see it. "A little. It sucks that I failed the hand-to-hand three times in a row, even after we trained together."

" _And you failed weapons quals_ _four_ _times._ "

Pushing off the wall, Cameron stepped out of the cubbyhole. "Thanks for bringing _that_ up, too, Shar. My self-esteem's already at an all-time low."

She laughed. " _What are cousins for, Cam? Talk to you later._ "

"Don't forget next week. And call my mom. She hasn't heard from you in weeks."

" _I_ _won't_ _, and I_ _will_."

Feeling a little better, Cameron put the phone away, and returned to his work station.

~~O~~

As he approached the junction, Steve heard Cameron speaking softly, as if he didn't want to be overheard. Steve didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he also didn't want to interrupt the man.

Until now, he hadn't known Peggy had family working for SHIELD, and he certainly didn't know that Cameron was one of them, or that he had a cousin who was a field agent. It would've been good to have someone besides Bucky to share memories of Peggy with.

Cameron had dark hair, and Steve wondered if his cousin, Shar, did as well. There were more than a few dark-haired women working for SHIELD, most of whom he hadn't met, and he wouldn't have because of their field work. He hadn't met anyone with any variation of the first name Shar. Of course it could be a nickname Cameron had given her.

Replacing thoughts of Peggy with Bucky, Steve made his way down to the detention level to keep his friend company. He was as sure as he could be that Bucky would never, under any circumstances, hurt Peggy in the way that he was alleged to have done.

He avoided the lifts, taking one of the shortcuts Natasha had shown him, arriving on the detention level within minutes. Standing in the doorway, he watched Joi inside the cell holding Bucky's hand.

Sometimes, when he was low and missing the old days, he was amazed that Bucky was still alive, and they'd been able to resume their friendship with barely a pause. As much as he would've liked to have lived through those years with Bucky, without that pause, he wouldn't have fallen in love for the second time. He lost Peggy, and refused to let the same thing happen with Joi. If she didn't want to get married yet, he was okay with it. Would have to be. But living together without benefit of marriage? He wasn't ready to stretch his convictions that far. Not yet.

Steve could see Jack Rawlins' men and women lurking in the shadows, though their leader didn't seem to be around. But he knew better. Like most strike teams, Rawlins was almost as good at sneaking up on people as…

"You can go in if you like," Natasha said from behind him.

Steve twisted his features into a grin as she moved around to the side. "I will. Letting Joi have her moment."

Bucky lay on the floor with a pillow under his head, and covered with a sheet. Steve understood why he wasn't in the med bay. With his ability to heal quickly, it wasn't really necessary. However, if he awoke in a rampage, he could do untold damage before he could be brought down.

Movement inside the enclosure told them Bucky was waking up. He rolled onto his side. Squinting in the bright lights, he looked around, his gaze landing on Joi. " _Oh, hey_."

Joi smiled. " _Hey. How you feeling?_ "

" _Like day four of a three-day drinking binge_." Bucky pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, and tried to sit up. " _Where 'm I?_ "

Her small hands pressed him down again. " _Relax, Conan. You just had surgery._ "

" _Surgery? Wha' for?_ "

Bruce tapped on the window, holding up the tablet. _Make_ _him_ _tell_ _you_.

One hand on Bucky's chest, Joi leaned closer. " _You don't remember?_ "

He rubbed his forehead in the middle, where the tracker had been, down to the bridge of his nose. " _Um, no. Haven't been sick since I had the measles in eighth grade. Hehe! Had to stay away from Stevie 'till I was well so he would catch 'em._ "

~~O~~

Smiling to keep from betraying her worry, Joi scooted a little closer, both legs curled to the side. "Don't worry about it. You'll remember soon enough. Want something to drink?"

Bucky laid his hand over hers where it touched his chest. "Yes, please."

A glass of water with a bendy straw was pushed through the open door. She grabbed it, and returned to his side. "Sit up." She let him have his fill, and he lay down again. "Rest. We'll talk later."

Joi got to her knees, stopping when he gripped her hand tight. "Thanks, babe. You're too good to me." Bucky had never called her babe before. It was always Ez, Ezzie, Joi, or baby girl. Before she could respond, he grunted as he shifted around to get comfortable. "I'm sorry, Connie."

It didn't really come as a surprise that, in this state, Bucky thought she was her grandmother. He'd told her the same when she was trying on dresses for the exhibit dedication. There was a tap on the window, and without looking, she knew it was Bruce advising her to go with what he was saying, at least for the moment. "For what, James?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he turned toward her. "For not being the husband you deserved, especially in the beginning."

"That's not important now. You need to rest."

Again, she tried to leave, but Bucky wouldn't let go. "No, it _is_ important, babe. I was never worthy of you. I really did want to be a good man, but the things that doctor did to me… I just had to come to terms with it first. Work it all out in my head."

Ignoring the fact that they were being watched and recorded, Joi touched Bucky's cheek. "You _were_ , and _are_ a good man, James. One of the best. No woman could've asked for a better husband and father for her children. Now go to sleep. That's an order, General."

He closed his eyes when she kissed his forehead, but he wasn't done talking. "I'm glad we never told Carolyn."

Confused and intensely curious, Joi's hand moved to brush the hair back behind his ear. "Told her what?"

"That we lied about when we got married, and that she was already on the way."

Not knowing what to say about the revelation of a long-held family secret, she glanced at Steve and Natasha. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked at the floor, while Natasha's smile was filled with sympathy. Having a child out of wedlock wasn't as scandalous now as it would've been in the forties. And though Joi was certain that she was the only family member to know, she would keep it to herself. Not even talk about it with her siblings, Steve, or Natasha. The best course of action was to just let it go.

Bucky let out a snore. Joi gently pulled her hand from his, and stood. At the door, she gave one last look back as he took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. She didn't know what he was looking at, the walls and ceiling, or something only he could see. Then he got this mischievous grin. He started drumming on his stomach then singing, if you could call it that.

 _I like big butts and I cannot lie  
You other brothers can't deny  
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist  
And a round thing in your face  
You get sprung, want to pull up tough  
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed  
Deep in the jeans she's wearing  
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring  
Oh baby, I want to get wit'cha  
And take your picture_

The song, along with others from the same era, was one of his guilty pleasures that only a select few knew about. Joi only found out by accident, and she knew for a fact he'd never told Natasha. He continued to recite the lyrics in the same cadence as the original artist, and Joi covered her face with both hands, wishing it would just _stop_.

 _My homeboys tried to warn me  
But with that butt you got makes (me so horny)  
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin  
You say you want to get in my Benz?  
Well, use me, use me  
'Cause you ain't that average groupie  
I've seen her dancin'  
To hell with romancin'  
She's sweat, wet,  
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette_

Joi peeked between her fingers, embarrassed by the blatantly sexual, and sexist lyrics. Steve, of course, was appalled. Natasha, Bruce, and the soldiers weren't bothering to hide their snickering.

 _I'm tired of magazines  
Sayin' flat butts are the thing  
Take the average black man and ask him that  
She gotta pack much back  
So, fellas (yeah) Fellas (yeah)  
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah)  
Tell 'em to shake it (shake it) shake it (shake it)  
Shake that healthy butt_

 _Baby got back_

 _Baby got back_

 _I like 'em round, and big  
And when I'm throwin' a gig  
I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal  
Now here's my scandal  
I want to get you home  
And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh  
I ain't talkin' bout Playboy  
'Cause silicone parts are made for toys_

Mentally, she went over the lyrics, and realized she had to stop him somehow. She rushed to his side, and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Gramps! Stop!"

 _I want 'em real thick and juicy  
So find that juicy double  
Mix-a-Lot's in trouble  
Beggin' for a piece of that bubble  
So I'm lookin' at rock videos  
Knock-kneed bimbos walkin' like hoes  
You can have them bimbos  
I'll keep my women like Flo Jo  
A word to the thick soul sistas, I want to get with ya  
I won't cuss or hit ya  
But I gotta be straight when I say I want to-_

Joi bounced him hard, and shouted, "Gramps!"

He cut off in mid-sentence, to her relief, and lay there looking up at her. "Oh, hey, baby girl. What're you doing here? The surgery over?" Stifled expressions of humor went through the gathered crowd like a wildfire. Bucky rose up on his elbows, spying Natasha standing at the door, joining in the laughter, and Steve looking embarrassed. "What?"

~~O~~

Pursing her lips to stem the laughter, Natasha glanced at Steve and back to Joi and Bucky. "That's gonna be my ringtone from now on." Her mood turned serious. "Say nothing to _anyone_ about the rest. Encrypt the recording for Fury, Hill, Rogers, Barton, and my eyes only."

The last was aimed at Rawlins' squad, and he answered for them. "Right, Agent Romanoff."

" _Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff to Operations stat!_ " Hill's voice echoed through the detention area.

"On our way," Steve answered for them both.

They arrived within moments. Hill nodded to Klein. "It's your op, Klein."

The young man motioned them to join him at his workstation, and they slid into seats on either side. "Regarding the whereabouts of General Barnes on the nights in question, you can rest easy. About one, at least. I found no evidence whatsoever that he was anywhere in the vicinity of the nursing home on the night of Peggy Carter's death. The last time General Barnes visited Agent Carter was three weeks prior. He arrived after lunch, stayed for thirty minutes, and left. Hasn't been back since." Klein waved a finger in the air. "I did locate traffic cam footage that appears to show his personal vehicle entering a dog park not far from his home. However, the video is poor quality, and I wasn't able to enhance it enough for a positive identification. Still working on the other dates."

Steve gripped Klein's shoulder, and smiled. "Thank you, Cameron. That's just what I needed to hear."

Natasha added her gratitude to Steve's. "Good work, Agent Klein."

"Um, Agent Romanoff, before you and Captain Rogers go, there's, uh…"

"What is it?"

He appeared reluctant to continue. Then, he took a deep breath, and came to a decision. "I'm sure Agent Barton would want you to know. He, uh, gave me a file to analyze. Audio files. The same song over and over, going back fifteen years at least. He asked me to locate the point of origin, if possible."

Crossing her arms, Natasha watched him without blinking, waiting for him to continue.

"The emails all came from the same IP address, and the same sender."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Klein," Hill interjected.

Klein glanced at the faces surrounding him, and back to the screen. "The files were sent by the dead man in our morgue: Dr. Edgar Heath. And that's not all. Hidden within the music were subliminal messages tuned to a specific brainwave pattern: that of General Barnes, according to the scans Doctors Banner and Toledano made."

Hill crossed her arms, and glanced at Steve with an odd expression. Most people who knew her wouldn't have seen it, but Natasha wasn't your average, everyday spy. She saw it. "Don't stop now, Klein. You have our attention. In your opinion, what was the message's purpose?"

~~O~~

"I don't have an opinion, Commander Hill," Cameron told her. He had three of SHIELD's highest ranking agents hanging on his every word, and that gave him the confidence to keep going. "I _know_ what the messages were for. They were to prepare General Barnes for post-hypnotic suggestions. By tuning the underlying tones to his specific brainwaves, it helped to make him more susceptible to whatever Dr. Heath was implanting in his subconscious. By sending the file twenty-four hours before he would be hypnotized, he was, essentially, tilling the earth in order to plant seeds."

No one said anything for so long Cameron thought he might've dumbed down his metaphor too much. Then, under her breath, Agent Romanoff muttered a word in Russian, a language he spoke fluently. Embarrassed, he didn't say anything more. Rogers wasn't so inclined.

"If Heath wasn't already dead, I'd kill him."

"Get in line, Rogers." Agent Romanoff startled Cameron by touching his hand. "Thank you, Agent Klein. We'll inform Agent Barton, and take it from here."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll forward my findings for this and the other to you, Agent Barton, and Captain Rogers."

Neither said another word. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff were gone within moments, leaving Cameron and Hill alone. Her blue-eyed stare unnerved him. He dropped his eyes to the workstation. "And to you and Director Fury as well, Commander."

Hill's eyes stayed on him for a few more seconds then she turned on her heel and returned to the center station.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Clint and Mia had just finished putting the finishing touches to the painting when his phone beeped. He wiped his hands, and dug the device out of his back pocket. Quickly scanning the email from Natasha regarding the audio files he'd given Klein. He muttered an oath under his breath, debating if he should let the kids in on this new development. For the moment, he decided against it. If he told them nothing was found, or the analysis wasn't complete, they'd believe him. Maybe.

Together, Clint and Mia cleaned the brushes, and rollers, and replaced the lids on the paint. He carried the equipment out to the garage, returning them to their previous location on the shelves near the work bench.

A car pulled up in front of the house, the door slammed, and a moment later, Justin announced his arrival. "I'm here! Sorry I'm late. I've got vendors coming outta my a** at the night club. Hey. You're almost done. Looks great."

Clint entered the house, passing through to the kitchen where Collin and Serenity were making dinner. To Justin, he said, "Not quite. Once the paint dries, I'll weather it to match the old paint. Then it'll be time to hang the replacement rods, blinds, and curtains."

The young man waved his hands. "Yeah, I'm not real handy with a screwdriver."

"Tough. You wanted to be part of this conspiracy. You're doing your share of the work." Chase and Mia appeared to ignore the byplay, though Clint knew they were listening raptly. "We'll find something for you to do that fits your skill set."

"But…"

"But _nothing_. _Go_." Clint pointed toward the work area, following to make sure Justin didn't try to bolt. "Start by taking the tarps off the furniture. Shake the dust off outside, and hose them down. When they're dry, fold them, and take them out to the garage. Wipe everything down, including the art work on the walls, then vacuum. That'll have to be done at least twice to get all the plaster and wood dust out. Once that's done, I'll have a look to see if we need to clean the carpets." Justin looked stubborn, and seemed about to object, but Clint beat him to it. "You haven't been pulling your share of the weight, Justin. Time to pay up. Now get to work."

Resigned, Justin yanked the tarp off the armchair. At the back door, he turned with one hand on the knob. "You have kids, Clint?"

Suddenly suspicious, Clint asked, "Why?"

"'Cause you're good at giving orders, and do the resting b**** face like a pro."

 **Rumlow's Apartment**

 **Fairview Beach, Virginia**

Rumlow let himself into the apartment, tossed a stack of mail on the desk, and shucked his shoulder holster and weapon, dropping both in the chair. He went to the refrigerator for a beer, twisted the top off and took a long drink on his way to the bathroom for a shower.

A few minutes later, he returned to the living room with a towel slung low on his hips, and the last of the beer. Setting the bottle aside, he took a small device from the end table and turned it on. With the jammer running, no one would be able to eavesdrop on his conversation. Not even SHIELD.

From a hidden compartment inside the front closet, Rumlow withdrew one of a dozen burner phones. He sat on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, powered up the phone, and dialed a number from memory. When the other party answered, he said, "It's done… No worries mate. It all went down without a hitch… The doc gave the official COD as suicide by cyanide poisoning… Yeah. SHIELD is totally oblivious to the fact that HYDRA's been growing right under their noses for almost seventy years… As I said, no worries. They're so ******* clueless about the true nature of Project Insight they'll never see us coming… Right. Hail HYDRA."

 **TBC**

 _Baby Got Back_ is a hit song written and recorded by American artist Sir Mix-a-Lot, released May 1992. At the time of its original release, the song caused controversy with its outspoken and blatantly sexual lyrics about women, which some people found objectionable.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 30**

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Bucky was sitting on the far side of the chamber staring out at the water, one leg stretched out in front of him, and his left wrist resting on the knee. His other hand pushed through his hair, and a long sigh huffed out.

Steve rapped on the glass to get his attention. Bucky climbed to his feet, moving as if his entire body ached. "You're walking like an old man, Buck."

"I _am_ an old man." He leaned his back against the clear wall, and slid down to the floor again with both knees bent. "God, Steve. I don't know _what_ I was thinking asking a woman sixty plus years younger to live with me, be my wife, and have children with me." He brushed a hand through his hair again, a habit he'd had back in the forties that hadn't changed. "Most of my friends have died, and making new ones is easy, but they're all way younger than me. They have young families, and just don't have the time for someone with whom their only common interest is sports, _The Walking Dead_ , _Sons of Anarchy_ , and Shark Week. My kids and grandkids have lives of their own. They come around as often as they can. But I don't expect them to keep me company all the time."

"Everyone needs outside interests." Steve took a seat leaning against the outside of the chamber where he could see Bucky by turning his head.

"I miss hanging out with people I'm not related to on more than just the major holidays. I miss going to concerts, theme parks, walking in the mall, the batter's cage, fishing, picnics. Stuff that's no fun by yourself. Natasha goes with me sometimes, but I'm looking for a pal, a confidant. And there are some things I can't say to you _or_ to her."

He moved his feet out a little, resting his wrists on the knees, hands clasped between them. "After I retired, I played racquetball twice a week with my pal Rick for almost twenty years." A chuckle leaked from his mouth, and a sad smile turned up the corners. "At the beginning, one time he told me not to take it easy on him, so I really let him have it. Didn't hold back. I was going in for the final point. Hit the ball too hard. It ricocheted off the wall, past Rick's head, barely missing him. It shattered the glass wall, and imbedded itself in the wall of the ladies' locker room. Paid for the repairs, of course. After that, we went back to me letting him win now and then."

"I'd like to meet him."

Bucky scratched the end of his nose, another one of his tells. "A few years ago, he and his wife, Beth bought a condo in Boca. They planned to spend every day sleeping late, playing golf or tennis, taking long walks, and doing some traveling.

"Then, three months before he was due to retire he had a massive heart attack just as he was leaving for work one morning. He kissed Beth good-bye, and headed for his car, but didn't make it. The autopsy said he was dead before he hit the ground."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

He waved off Steve's expression of sympathy. "I told Bruce that I wasn't lonely, not often. But the truth is, before you came back and I started dating Natasha, I _was_ lonely, and not just some of the time. Connie had been our social secretary. After she died, my interactions outside of family were at the coffee shop, bar, grocery store, hardware store, and so forth, until I got the idea for the exhibit.

"Talked to the regulars at Trout's Sports Bar. A group of us even talked about getting together for touch football, one-on-one, camping, or a hockey game, but it never happened. Tried going alone a couple of times. Not nearly as much fun without company."

"And that, my friend, is the problem with longevity. Everyone you care about leaves, and you're alone." Steve dropped to the floor with his back to the wall too. "If it'll make you happy, Buck, we can take in a few games together-football, baseball, hockey, whatever, go camping, and do some of that other stuff."

"Thanks."

The secured doors opened to admit Natasha, Bruce, and a squad of soldiers. "Hope we're not intruding."

Both men got to their feet. Bucky caught Natasha's glance. She smiled, and he returned it. Bruce was right. Bucky had it bad for the Black Widow. Taking a step forward, Bruce held up the tablet. "We've completed the analysis of the music that was playing just before the event, and found nothing unusual. No hidden messages, nothing. Just the music."

"So we're back to square one then."

"Not necessarily. You're fully healed from the surgery, so I'd like to try an experiment, if you're willing."

Finally, Bucky was showing not only interest, but enthusiasm. "Whatever it is, let's do it."

"Could be dangerous." Bruce indicated the soldiers, presumably armed with tranq guns again.

Bucky shook his head, and crossed his arms. "I don't _care_. I just want this _over_."

Bruce tapped the tablet, and music came from all around them. Bucky listened intently while pacing back and forth close to the barrier. At the end of _Glory of Love_ , he sang the last few lines with Peter Cetera. " _We'll live forever, knowing together that we did it all for the glory of love_."

Natasha came to stand close, placing her hand against the barrier, and he did the same.

~~O~~

The song ended, the next one came on, and just like the night of the Fourth, when the woman's voice came in, Bucky grabbed his head, and clenched his teeth as the pain stabbed at his brain. But this time was so much worse. He doubled over, and fell to his knees, his head touching his thighs, howling with pain. Then just as abruptly, it stopped. He panted a few times, his head coming up. Sweat poured down his face as he scanned the crowd until he saw Steve. The look in his eyes was nothing short of murderous. "Target located. Mission: eliminate."

Not much frightened Natasha, but when Bucky slammed both hands against the wall, making the chamber shake, she and Bruce took an involuntarily step back. Bucky glared at Steve, and punched the wall, over and over.

The clamps that held the chamber in place made a grinding noise, shook some more, and tilted to one side. Steve moved to his right, and Bucky's eyes followed. He drew back, and hit the wall over and over, alternating fists.

"We have to stop him before the chamber is ejected," Bruce told Rumlow.

Without taking his eyes off of Bucky, Steve voiced his idea. "If he stopped hitting the chamber, and hit something else instead, would that prevent the system from dumping it into the ocean?"

Natasha stepped into the conversation. She nodded to the man standing near the control panel. "You keep him busy, Steve, while we figure something out."

Steve moved over to the door, it slid open, and before Bucky could escape, he ducked inside. The door closed behind him at the same time Bucky aimed a fist at his head. Steve blocked, and followed it up with a jab to Bucky's ribs to keep his attention focused on him.

~~O~~

Natasha kept her eyes on the men fighting inside the glass walled chamber while speaking to Bruce. "His rampage ended once he was knocked out. Too bad Mia isn't here to help."

Bruce was busily searching for a way to resolve the situation without risking the lives of others. "The boat has several general anesthetics on board we could pump it into the ventilation system. The drawback to that is there's not enough of any one that will keep James out for more than a few minutes. And as we saw the other night, he has to stay out for some time to effect the change in his brain chemistry."

"Could we electrify the room?"

Already shaking his head, Bruce thought furiously, looking for a solution. "The chamber is made of a non-conductive material. Besides, Steve would feel the effects too. Same with knock-out gas. How long would it take to get Mia here?"

Natasha finally turned from watching the men fight. "We have what we need on board." She moved away from the scene, issuing orders as she went. "Rumlow, have four stun rods brought down. Dr. Banner can rig them to discharge at the same time."

"Right." He lifted his chin, and one of his men rushed from the area. "Want me to do the honors, Agent Romanoff?"

Shaking her head, Natasha went to stand near the enclosure, watching Bucky and Steve beating the crap out of each other. "I'll do it myself."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Clint looked to the left then to the right, signing for the benefit of Collin and Serenity "What's the verdict, guys? Think it'll pass inspection?"

Chase, Justin, Mia, Collin and Serenity split up to check out the completed work on the hole made in Bucky's home, the twins going outside, while the other three closely examined the inside.

There was a flurry of signing, and a discussion that involved one particular pane of glass. Once an agreement was reached, Serenity went to the den and came back with a marker. She made an X where Mia was touching the glass, and stepped back. _Gramps was showing one of the younger kids how to use a slingshot, and hit the window_.

He examined the spot, went into the back yard, jumped the fence into the field, and jogged to a group of trees. He searched until he found what he needed, and made the return trip.

In the den, he found wide rubber bands in the desk drawer. Taking out his knife as he returned to the back yard, he made slits in the wood of the forked branch he'd found, attached the rubber bands, and tested it. Satisfied, he went back to the fence, signing and asking, "How old was the kid? Boy or girl? How tall? How far away?"

Mia spoke up. "Nine, a boy," she held her hand at chest height, "So tall, and near the fence. Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does." Clint inserted a small stone in the ammunition pocket, got down on one knee, sighted on the window, pulled back, adjusted his aim, and released. The stone hit with a small _thunk_. The group ran back to the house, looking from the crack in the exact center of the X, at Clint, and back. "What d'you think?"

Together, Justin and Chase said, "Perfect."

The others agreed. Clint thought it was a done deal, but the five young people stood there staring at him. "What?"

"You promised us…" Chase started.

And Justin finished, "…a backstory."

Huffing, Clint gave in to the inevitable. " _Fine_. Let's go inside where it's cool. I'll make us something to eat while I tell the story."

Showing excitement for the first time in a couple of days, the kids ran inside, Clint following at a more leisurely pace. He found them sitting at the counter and dragging dining room chairs into the doorway.

Opening the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets, Clint took out the ingredients to make their meal. He washed up, and as he was drying his hands, he began his tale. "At the age of six, my parents were killed in a car accident. Shortly after that, my brother Barney and I were sent to an orphanage. A few years later, we ran away, and joined the circus…"

 **Nocturnal Diversions Studio**

The announcer, who until now had been only a disembodied voice, strode onto the stage with his nose in the air, giving the impression that he was above doing a voiceover on a mere cooking show.

Austin Wade Parker III. Six feet of pomposity, narcissism, and vainglorious ego. His trim body bore the signs of endless hours spent in the gym, and at the spa getting massages, manicures, pedicures, and facials. The suit he wore had been tailored to fit. No off-the-rack suits for him!

Everyone knew who he was, of course. Parker was in high demand as an announcer, and commercial voiceover artist. He'd even voiced a few animated characters for Pixar and Disney. What Joi didn't need was yet another male ego to appease, so she made it a point to steer clear of him until the show was over.

Elyse sidled up next to her, the two of them watching Parker through a gap in the curtains. "So that's the a****** who's been mispronouncing my name all these months."

"Yup. That's him. And if that stick was any farther up his butt, we'd be picking apples off his head." Joi pulled the curtains closed when he turned in their direction. "Today's the last day, Elyse. You ready for it?"

"Most definitely. My girlfriend's been feeling neglected. Win or lose, we're taking a three-day weekend somewhere warm with sand and surf and lots of those umbrella drinks." The women headed for wardrobe. "What happened with you and what's his name?"

Joi opened the door, and ushered Elyse in ahead of her. "Steve. It's been one heck of a ride, him and me. And I don't mean in the dirty way."

Her co-star snorted, the sound muffled by clothing in all shapes, sizes, colors and materials hanging and folded on shelves. "It's only dirty if you're doing it right."

Resisting an eye roll, Joi picked out a pair of brightly colored slacks and a white chef's jacket in her size while Elyse did as well. The women reached the changing rooms at the same time. "What I meant is we broke up, and now we're back together. In between, we stayed friends. And he's best pals with my grandfather, so we still saw each other on holidays and birthdays."

"And here I thought you and Frank would be burning the sheets by episode four at the latest. Which reminds me. Where did you learn Italian?"

"My instructor at culinary school. He insisted that all his students speak his first language if we expected him to speak ours."

The rustled of clothing as Elyse changed reached Joi through the wall between them. "You gotta admit, he has a point."

The door to Elyse's changing room opened and closed. Joi finished buttoning her jacket, and stepped out as well. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous, as always, Lockwood."

"Back atcha, DeWitt."

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

To Clint's surprise, Justin offered to help wash the dishes, and clean the kitchen after lunch. He could tell the young man had something on his mind, and was looking either for an opening, or how to bring up whatever it was.

Clint hung the dish towel over the rack to dry, and watched Justin refill the water dishes, talking softly to the cats the whole time. And in his experience, people who talked to animals expecting an answer weren't overly concerned with what others thought of them. It showed compassion and caring. If they cared that much about animals, they had to have consideration for humans. It also showed that they were just as happy spending their time with a pet as with a person.

None of which answered Clint's original question: What did Justin want?

"You said the gazebo was damaged too?"

His sheepish grin made him appear not as confident as he presented himself to the world. "Yeah. Gramps crashed into it when he and I were wrestling. It's not bad though."

Justin led the way out to the far corner of the yard. He crouched at the bottom of the steps, pointing to several cracked and broken slats. "Gramps didn't hit it that hard or it would've been a lot worse."

"Won't take long to fix." Clint stood, and Justin came up at the same time. "Okay, pal. There's no one here but you and me. What's got your panties in a twist?"

Shaking his head and grinning, Justin jumped onto the gazebo and sat in the swing. Clint joined him.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?" He used his feet to set the swing in motion. "I, uh, I met someone."

Clint crossed his arms, and drew in a deep breath. He didn't think he'd be having The Talk with someone Justin's age. "And that's a problem?"

"Yes. No. Uh… We've had coffee and drinks a few times. Nothing more. But whenever I'm with Rey I… I've never felt this connection with anyone before. Not even my ex and we lived together for almost two years."

 _This_ Clint could do. "Tell me about Ray. What's he like?"

Chuckling, Justin hooked one arm over the back of the swing. "It's not R- _a_ -y. It's R- _e_ -y. Rey is a woman."

"But I thought you were…"

"I am. Or was." he got up and went to lean on the railing. "Now I don't know _what_ I am. She has this way of smiling at me that… I don't even know how to describe it. We've never even held hands, except to help her into or out of her car. All very non-sexual. Just a human connection. But that small, ordinary, everyday touch makes me want things I'm not sure I deserve or can have. My usual MO is to jump into bed at the first opportunity. But with Rey, it's crossed my mind lots of times. It just didn't feel right. Not yet. Has that ever happened to you?"

Getting to his feet, Clint went to stand next to Justin with his arms crossed. "A time or five. Married my ex too fast and too young. A few months in, we realized it was a mistake. We divorced, and it was somewhat cordial." He waggled his hand. "We didn't get into a screaming match in court, or beat the crap out of each other."

"What was her name?"

"Bobbi. Roberta. Her nickname was Mockingbird. Don't ask." Clint let that sink in a moment.

Justin turned to look at him with a contemplative squint. "So how _do_ you know when you've found a love that will last a lifetime?"

Clint leaned on the opposite side of the gazebo's entrance. "Loving someone is an ongoing process. It never stops. And after several minor, and one major mistake, I discovered that _you_ don't find love. It finds _you_. Just take your time. Get to know her before jumping into anything too deep, especially bed. Treat her, and everyone else, with respect. Listen not only to _what_ she says, but what she _doesn't_ say. Don't get all stalkery. Relax, and _don't_ let your hormones run the show. If it's meant to be, you'll know. Everything will just fall into place. If not, you'll know that too."

"Wow. You sound like a less condescending version of Dr. Phil. Thanks." Justin jumped the rail, easily clearing the flower bed. "What is it you do again? Besides stopping aliens from conquering Earth, and giving advice to the lovelorn."

Holding in a smirk, Clint followed Justin back toward the house. "I guess you could call me a sort of janitor/maintenance man/babysitter. Spend most of my work hours taking out the trash."

"Sounds boring."

"Has its moments."

They stepped onto the patio, and Justin drew Clint to a stop. "Think you could teach me to shoot a bow and arrow?"

Justin's simple request was just the kind of set-up Clint enjoyed. It gave him a chance to show off, and to keep some of his lesser used skills sharp. "Tell you what." He nodded at the open window on the second floor where two of the cats were bird watching behind a screen. "The cat's bedroom. We'll race. If you get there first, you get archery lessons. As many as you want. And if I win, you take Rey out to a nice dinner. Someplace romantic, and not too expensive. You don't want to overdo it right out of the starting gate. Drink some good wine, talk, maybe dance a little. Afterwards, hold her hand while taking a stroll then walk her home or to her car, kiss her good night, no tonsil hockey, and go home."

~~O~~

Justin didn't even have to think about the bet. He was fast on his feet thanks to the genes he'd inherited from Gramps. It was a no-brainer. "Deal."

Grinning in a way that Justin didn't like, Clint nodded. "On three. One… two… three!"

Before Clint's voice had faded with the last number, Justin had already reached the back door. He flung it open, ran past his siblings, and cousin wiping down the furniture again, up the stairs, and down the hall.

He burst into the cat's bedroom, not the least out of breath, to find Clint sitting in the rocker rubbing Archie's neck, making him purr while the other cats sat and watched as if waiting their turn.

"How did you…"

"I never knew Nat was a cat person. _Or_ a dog person." He looked up at Justin staring open-mouthed at him. "I also walked the high wire, worked the trapeze, and filled in on the tumbling act."

Justin sat on the side of the bed. Priscilla jumped up next to him, pawing his hand for her share of pets. He rubbed her head absently. "You win. I'll take Rey on that date once Gramps is out of the hospital."

"Because it was a set-up," Clint put Archie on the floor, and picked up Rufus, "you still get the lessons, as long as you hold up your end and do the date. Call her. Don't text the invitation."

Clint's phone beeped. He dug it out, read the message, and stood, handing Rufus to Justin. "Gotta go. Don't forget what I said."

"I won't. And thanks."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Thankful that Joi had returned to the studio so she wouldn't have to watch, Natasha stood over Bruce while he rewired one of the stun rods to deliver a charge strong enough to knock Bucky out, using components from the other three. He held out his hand, and she placed the tool he requested in it.

Bruce removed his glasses, and sat back. "It's done. However, it will only withstand maybe three hits before it burns out." Natasha picked it, feeling the added weight. The balance was off, but she could work with it. "Wear gloves, and safety goggles, just in case."

Natasha left the lab with Bruce close on her heels. "You should stay out of the way. We don't want the Big Guy to get upset."

"You're right. I'll monitor from my office."

They went their separate ways at the next junction, Natasha continuing alone. The unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh reached her long before she joined Rumlow's team. They parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses, the chamber coming into view. Her stomach did a little flip at seeing Steve and Bucky bloodied and bruised. The fight had been going on for close to thirty minutes with no sign of stopping. Bucky she knew had to be running on pure adrenaline, and would likely sleep for days once this was over.

Not long after she arrived, she felt the space next to her fill with the comforting presence of her best friend. Natasha and Clint shared a look, and she knew without him saying so that he'd be on her six for this, however long it took.

Bucky got in a lucky shot, sending Steve flying across the chamber, first hitting the ceiling, then landing on the floor hard enough to make the room shake. Again, the gears ground, and the room tilted a little more.

Steve got his hands under his shoulders, pushing to his hands and knees, blood dripping from a cut lip. Even from this distance, Natasha could see he'd have a black eye by the end of the day.

Concern for Steve fell by the wayside when Bucky threw himself at the wall. But it wasn't her he was glaring at. Leaning against it, his right fist pounded on the clear barrier.

Once again, the room tilted, nearly at a thirty-seven-degree angle. Clint instinctively pushed Natasha behind him for protection. And for the first time since the fight began, Bucky spoke, his voice harsh and grating. Not at all like his normal mellifluous speaking voice.

"Get away from her! Natasha is _my_ woman!"

 **TBC**

 _The Walking Dead_ is an American horror drama television series developed by Frank Darabont, based on the comic book series of the same name by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, and Charlie Adlard. Andrew Lincoln plays the show's lead character, sheriff's deputy Rick Grimes, who awakens from a months-long coma to confront a post-apocalyptic world overrun by zombies.

 _Sons of Anarchy_ is an American crime drama television series created by Kurt Sutter. It follows the lives of a close-knit outlaw motorcycle club operating in Charming, a fictional town in California's Central Valley. The show stars Charlie Hunnam as Jackson "Jax" Teller, initially the vice president of the club, who begins questioning the club and himself.

Shark Week is an annual, week-long TV programming block created by Tom Golden at the Discovery Channel, which features shark-based programming.

Boca Raton, Florida is a popular location for retirees.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 31**

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Clint looked around, not completely sure Bucky was speaking to him. Then he faced Bucky readying himself for a fight he had no hope of winning. "Not after _your_ woman. We're…"

" _Mine!_ " Bucky pounded on the wall, having forgotten Steve for the moment.

Again, Clint tried to reason with Bucky, though they could all see he was beyond it. "Look, Barnes…"

Rumlow brought his weapon to bear, his team following suit when Bucky shoved the fingers of both hands into the tiny space between the door and the jamb. He yanked hard, ripping it from its tracks.

Steve was already on the move as Bucky flung the ruined door behind him. He jumped over the door, reaching for Bucky… And missed.

With a roar that was part pain, part rage, Bucky advanced on Clint. The murderous look in his eyes said he wouldn't stop. Not until Clint was dead.

~~O~~

"Clint?"

The archer didn't spare Natasha a glance. They watched in horrid fascination as Bucky ripped the door off the Hulk chamber with a high pitched screech. "Yeah?"

"You're one of the bravest men I know," the door flew across the room, and Steve jumped over it, trying to get to Bucky, "but you should _run_."

"I think you're right." Clint took off a moment before Bucky stalked out of the chamber, and followed. Rumlow's men fired at the retreating figure, most shots missing. Unfortunately, the ones that found their mark had no effect, due no doubt, to the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through Bucky's system.

Clint ducked his head, and ran full-out down the corridor that ran the length of the boat, Bucky's footsteps ringing on the deck behind him. Farther back, Rumlow's men gave chase while Natasha's voice echoed through the PA system.

" _All hands. The prisoner has escaped! Clear the corridors immediately! If seen, report his location but do_ _not_ _engage! Repeat, do not engage!_ "

He stopped for a breath, weighing his options. His best bet was to lead him outside, away from the majority of the crew for their protection. If worst came to worst, Clint could always hop in a quinjet and take off until…

Cocking his head to the side, he listened for Bucky's approach, hearing only the boat's normal sounds. Rumlow and his people could've taken Bucky down by now, but Clint doubted it. Not this quickly.

One slow step at a time, Clint moved down one of the corridors that intersected the main, taking great care not to make even the smallest sound.

Behind him, he heard what could've been the scrape of a shoe on the deck. He swung around, ducked and rolled as Bucky aimed a punch at his head that would've seriously injured, or even killed him. He would've fought back, but he already knew it would only cause incredible pain, maybe even death, and his family expected him home in a few days.

On his feet again, Clint led Bucky down a path that would take him through the section where he and Natasha had fought while he was still under Loki's control. He dropped to his knees, rolled under an air duct, and back to his feet on the other side, planning his strategy. The main deck hatch was two levels down, and to his left.

Resting his hands on the top railing, he peered over the side just as Bucky reached the air duct. Picturing the catwalk below, Clint vaulted the rail, exhaling as he hit, and rolling to disperse the energy. He came up on one knee, and looked up. Bucky was above him, looking down. Strands of his long hair sticking to the sweat on his face.

Placing his feet on either side of the ladder, Clint slid down to the next level, almost running into a two-man maintenance crew. He didn't have time to wonder why they hadn't obeyed Natasha's announcement. "Go now! Hurry! That way!"

A hard thump jostled the scaffolding from Bucky's greater mass hitting with both feet.

But Clint was already on the move, his goal no more than four hundred meters away. He ducked his head, and ran through the zigzag pathway, turned left then right, bounded up a short flight of stairs, and burst onto the deck, startling several deck hands working nearby. There was no time to warn them as Bucky followed him into the light, heading in Clint's direction.

Clint ran between two quinjets, looking for any sort of cover, a weapon, anything. He was strong for a normal human, but there was no way he'd be able to hold his own against someone like Bucky. Not under these circumstances. Yeah, he could use the rail guns on one of the quinjets, but Natasha wouldn't be happy if he killed her almost-fiancé, and neither would his family.

One of the deck hands shouted at him as he backed away from Bucky between two quinjets undergoing maintenance, tools and ladders effectively blocking the way. Another quinjet came in for a landing, cutting that escape route too. If he could distract Bucky just for a few seconds…

~~O~~

Knowing that Clint would lead Bucky outside, Natasha motioned for several of Rumlow's people to follow her. She wanted to avoid using the stunner, if possible. If they used too much of the tranquilizers, he could go into cardiac arrest and die. Too little… They'd already seen how well _that_ had worked.

Crewmembers stood back, watching the scene with fascination that bordered on weird. A few had their heads together, and Natasha was certain that they were placing bets on Clint's changes of getting out of this predicament alive.

Seeing that Clint had nowhere to go, Bucky slowed his approach. "Natasha is mine. You can't have her."

"Then that makes _this_ ," he waved a hand to indicate their situation, "ridiculously pointless, pal, because I don't want her. Not that way."

"I've seen the way you look at her; the way _all_ men do. How could you _not_ want her?"

Stunned, Natasha wondered where this steak of jealousy was coming from. At no time since they'd become a couple had she gotten the feeling that Bucky was possessive, and willing to beat another man to death for no other reason than talking to her. He knew her, and what she was capable of, and the thought of him treating her like a possession, a prize to be flaunted to the world didn't set well with her highly independent personality. Or was this side not a reflection of his inner thoughts, but a magnification of that small part of him, of any man, that still yearned to "own" his significant other?

What if there had been more implanted in Bucky's head by that _svoloch'_ Heath than they had first thought? If Heath had taken the opportunity presented, he could've done anything to Bucky that, with the right trigger, might send him off on another frenzy, even to the point where he couldn't be stopped except by a kill shot. But what had been his motivation for doing so?

Knowing Hill, she would've already ordered a full background check on Heath, his family, friends, and business associates, no matter how tenuous their connection. At the conclusion of this hiccup in their routine, Natasha would go over the information herself, and when she was done, she would go over it again, and again, until the solution presented itself. But that couldn't happen until Bucky was himself again or at least confined.

Natasha brushed her thumb over the activator on the rigged stunner. She didn't want to use it, but Bucky didn't seem to be giving them a choice.

He had Clint trapped. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't give another thought to her best friend's predicament. But nothing that happened in the past few weeks was normal.

Holding the stunner in her left hand, Natasha made a skulking approach, hoping to sneak up behind Bucky, and take him out before someone got hurt.

~~O~~

Now that they at least had a dialog going, Clint hoped he and Bucky could work this out before someone, most like himself, got injured or killed. He made a sound of reluctant agreement, and spread his arms to the sides. "Okay. You got me. I want her. But _she_ wants _you_ , and I don't make a habit of planting my seeds in another man's garden. Happy now?"

Bucky flexed his hands, cracking the knuckles. "Doesn't change the fact that you think about her when you're apart."

Oblivious, the maintenance team on the quinjet to his right packed up their tools, and rolled the ladder out of the way. Clint walked backward as he spoke. "You know, I'd love to stay and debate this _extremely_ interesting, if highly delusional, topic, but, uh," he chanced a quick look to the side, seeing the way was now clear, "I gotta jet."

Clint dived to the right, rolling, and coming out on the other side. He sprinted for one of the quinjets he knew to be fueled up and ready for flight. He pounded up the ramp, and closed the hatch.

Now that he felt relatively safe, he dropped into one of the jump seats facing the rear of the quinjet, and tapped his comm. "Barton to Romanoff. SitRep."

The comm crackled, and Natasha's voice came on. " _Romanoff. Situation normal…_ "

"… all ****** up. We need to _end_ this. I can't hide in here for the rest of my life."

There was a grunt, and the sound of fighting. Then she was back on. " _You could take off, and come back when it's resolved._ "

"And leave you to deal with it on your own? I'd be in the doghouse for at least two weeks." Clint knew that his best friend and partner would understand the reference. "Can you get close enough to stun him?"

Natasha inhaled sharply, and her voice changed to a whisper. " _Working on it_."

"Why is he so fixated on _me_ as your non-existent lover? And where did he get the idea you're cheating on him?"

Outside, the wind made it harder to hear. " _He must think it on a subconscious level, or there wouldn't be an issue. He and I'll have to have a long talk_."

Going to the port console, Clint helped himself to a glass of cold water. "Barnes doesn't strike me as the type to be insecure about relationships. Then again, you _are_ a little younger than he is. Maybe that's where this comes from."

" _Not funny, and so not the time to psychoanalyze my soon-to-be fiancé, Hawkeye._ " She had a short, whispered conversation with a couple of the crew, and came back on. " _Stand by._ "

 **Nocturnal Diversions Studio**

Standing to the left of the judges table, Parker shuffled slowly through the cards he held, pausing long enough to read the notations from the judges. With a suitably unreadable expression, he looked into the camera as Amalie counted down, and pointed at him.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. The final results are in, and the judges have made their decision. We've heard their observations regarding the dishes prepared here tonight." Grinning, he rubbed his stomach. "I'll need to work out an extra hour to burn all the calories I've consumed. Couldn't help it. Everything looked and tasted marvelous. I'm glad it wasn't _my_ job to pick the winner."

The audience chuckled politely, and Joi could feel the tension in the air as if it were a physical manifestation. She kept her features relaxed. Whether she won or lost, at least she knew she'd done her best, and that's what counted, right?

 _Hell, no_ , her shoulder devil whispered in her ear. _You wanted to win, and not just for the money and the fame, or to make your family proud. You want to win because you're the best_.

"… And the winner of this year's _Chef vs. Chef_ challenge receiving a cash prize of fifty thousand dollars, and an audition to host their own cooking show is… Oh, it was _so_ close! Dominic Hyde!"

The dark haired man came forward to accept the enormous check, and shake hands with Parker, and the judges. He returned to his place next to Elyse, looking proud and full of himself.

"In second place… Ladies and gentlemen, we have a tie! Joi Lockwood and Frank Vitale! Each will receive a cash prize of twenty thousand dollars." Two medium sized checks were brought out, Joi and Frank smiling, and pretending that it was just what they wanted, and everyone knowing that was a crock.

"And in third place, Elyse DeWitt. Your cash prize is ten thousand dollars." Elyse wasn't above showing her disappointment, and Joi didn't blame her. She wanted to hug the woman who'd become a good friend over the course of the show, but Parker, the man who loved the sound of his own voice, wasn't done talking. "Our thanks go out to the judges, the studio audience, to all the viewers at home, and especially to the contestants. And remember, _life_ is the real challenge. Meet it head-on. Good night!"

Confetti and balloons rained down as the music swelled, and the credits rolled. Over the next couple of hours, the four winners had official photos taken with each other, the judges, Parker, members of the audience, and the press. There were interviews with local affiliates, bloggers, and a few radio stations. Though he posed for pictures with the others, Dominic kept to himself the rest of the time, dominating the interviewers as much as possible while simultaneously promoting his restaurant, Venue, housed on the top floor of one of the most exclusive addresses in D.C., which coincidentally, was just a block from a government building called The Triskelion.

Joi had eaten dinner at Venue with her ex-boyfriend on her birthday several years ago. It had been her opinion that either Dominic had taken the night off or he was having a bad night. Though the view, ambiance, and service were top-shelf, to her trained palate, the food had been good, but not as spectacular as prices and location suggested.

When the noise, and glad-handing became too much, Joi excused herself, and rushed backstage to hide in the area that was off limits to the public. On the way, she grabbed the bottles of cognac that had been one of the night's secret ingredients. To her delight, they were still mostly full.

Too tired and stressed to look for the correct vessel, she found a paper cup, poured approximately twenty-five milliliters, and held it in her hand to warm it. With a proper glass, this step would normally take about ten minutes. Joi waited approximately fifteen seconds.

She performed the see, sniff, swirl, and sniff steps in rapid succession, drinking the auburn hued liquid down in one gulp instead of sipping. Her culinary instructor would be horrified, but she didn't care.

At times like this, her genetic inheritance was a nuisance. She wanted to get drunk, and quickly. But that wouldn't happen. Not tonight, not ever.

Propping her feet on the edge of the desk in the back of the wardrobe room, Joi systematically laid waste to the first bottle of cognac. As she was about to start on the second bottle, she heard the door creak open, and softly close.

Elyse and Frank had found her hiding place. Without a word, she grabbed two more cups, and poured them each a generous amount. They tapped their glasses together, and drank, not stopping until the bottles were empty, and her companions were tipsy enough that getting behind the wheel would be a very bad idea.

Joi generously offered them both a ride, laughing when her much taller companions squeezed into her Prius. Frank was the same height as Steve, though not as heavily muscled. He moved around trying to get comfortable in the back seat, hitting the back of Joi's and Elyse's seats. "Could you move your seat up, Elyse? I feel like a friggin' pretzel."

"Can't. Next time, we'll take my car."

"We're in _my_ car 'cause I'm the only one sober enough to drive," Joi pointed out. In spite of the lack of comfort, she didn't take them straight home. The trio stopped at a liquor store to buy the ingredients for several mixed drinks that they made up on the spot, and went back to her apartment, where they spent the rest of the night drinking, and binge-watching movies from her DVD collection.

 **Tunnel Vision Night Club**

 **Justin's Office**

On the wall above the coffee maker hung a framed quote but Wilson Mizner.

 _Be nice to people on your way up because you'll meet them on your way down_. 

Whenever Justin had to deal with a difficult client or vendor, he would remember that quote. Tonight, he chose to hang up rather than screaming profanities at the vendor on the phone. He'd gone with this particular service on the recommendation of a friend in the industry, however, their personalities didn't just clash. Every time they spoke, no matter the reason, it was all out war.

Justin did his best to treat everyone with respect, unless they had shown themselves to be unworthy of same. The owner of the company had obviously been brought up just the opposite because he was a total a*****e. Their contract was up in a few months, and Justin had already made inquiries with other companies in the area. He was just waiting to hear back from his attorney regarding the proposals.

Thankfully, that was the last fire he had to put out for the day. His manager, Alex Casmir, could handle the business for the rest of the night, leaving Justin with not much to do but worry about Gramps, and call Rey for the date he promised Clint he'd take her on.

He picked up his cell, scrolled the contact list for her name, and pressed dial. "Hi, Rey."

" _Hey. I'm glad you called, Justin_."

At the sound of her voice, his butterflies in his stomach came in for a landing. "Yeah? What's up?"

" _What're you doing Thursday night?_ "

"Um, going on a date with you?"

She chuckled. " _Good answer. How do you feel about Shakespeare in the Park?_ "

Justin opened and closed his mouth, wondering how she knew of his guilty pleasure. He hadn't even told Chase of his fondness for The Bard. "Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day."

" _Macbeth_ _. Act 1, Scene 3. This week, they're doing_ _Hamlet_ _. The curtain goes up just after dark._ "

"Sounds like a plan. Do they allow food brought in? We could have a picnic."

Rey's bare feet pattered on wood floors telling him she was walking around her apartment while talking. Then he heard water come on as she prepared to take a bath. " _Sounds great. Want to meet there around half past eight?_ "

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I'll bring the food, and see you there."

" _Great. How's your grandfather feeling? He still in the hospital?_ "

Rubbing his forehead, Justin sighed loud enough for her to hear. "Yes. He's better though, I think. My sister took him the stuffed animal, and he seemed to like it. His girlfriend is keeping us updated on his condition."

There was a pause as she turned off the water in the tub. " _Girlfriend? How old_ _is_ _your grandfather?_ "

The veil of humor came back. Rey would flip when she met Gramps, Justin was sure. "A young ninety-five. They've been together for over a year. She's a little younger than him."

" _Really? That's cool. Let's hope she doesn't give him a heart attack._ "

Rustling told him that she was getting undressed, and he felt like a voyeur for listening in. "She won't." A knock on the door came just before Alex stuck his head in, and motioned for Justin to join him. "Gotta go. My presence has been requested out on the floor."

" _Go. And have a good night_."

"All days are nights to see till I see thee/And nights bright days when dreams do show me thee."

Rey laughed. " _Silly!_ "

Justin thumbed the end key, and sat there for a few seconds thinking. He told Clint he would take Rey out for a romantic dinner. A picnic and Shakespeare in the Park qualified, didn't it?

He stood, shoved the phone in his back pocket and made his way out to the floor. At this time on a week night, the club was less than half full. Alex could handle a jam packed Saturday night. Why would he…

Then Justin saw his twin talking to a tall, dark-haired man in an expensive suit. He'd completely forgotten that Chase was bringing his friend around to meet him. Ducking into the men's room, he checked his look. The clothes were casual, a nearly new t-shirt that declared "I love rock-n-roll", faded jeans, and white Nikes. And for once, his hair looked great. He washed his hands, and ran them through the longer strands in the front to give them a lift, dried off, and put on a smile as he joined his brother at the bar. "Chase. Forgot you were coming tonight."

Chase slid off the barstool and motioned to the other man. "No problem, bro. Justin, this is my friend, Daniel. Daniel, Justin."

The other man looked him up and down before extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, Justin."

"You too." Justin had a knack for knowing within seconds of meeting someone if that person had a hidden agenda or wasn't to be trusted. He was genuinely pleased to meet a friend of his twin, and though he smiled, that feeling of misgiving came off of Daniel in waves as he checked himself out in the mirror for the third time in less than two minutes. _What is it about this guy? Nat works for the government. I'll see if she can do a background check for me._

The three men moved to a table in the corner away from the customers. Justin made up his mind to make pleasant conversation, ask questions that were only slightly personal-the kind you asked when getting to know a potential romantic partner-and politely decline any offers of coffee, drinks or dinner. Chase would be ticked off that his first attempt at matchmaking was a bust, but Justin couldn't see himself with someone he knew couldn't be trusted.

Justin went to the bar for three beers, a lite one for Daniel, and returned. He passed out the bottles, took a swig from his own, and set it on the coaster bearing Tunnel Vision's logo. "So, Daniel, Chase has told me almost nothing about you. What do you do?"

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Crew members in the corridors scrambled to get out of Steve's way as he raced toward the deck, the shield clutched in his left hand.

Out on deck, he immediately saw Clint headed for an open quinjet with Bucky in pursuit. The hatch closed, and before his friend could start ripping the craft apart with his bare hands, Steve change the shield over to his right hand, and threw it just hard enough to knock Bucky off his feet.

Bucky landed on his back, rolling into a back flip that brought him onto one knee. The shield curved around and came back. Steve caught it in both hands and readied himself for an attack. When Bucky got close, Steve made a jumping spin, catching him in the stomach, sending him flying.

Getting to his feet again, Bucky turned away from Steve to attack the quinjet. To stop him, Steve threw the shield, and in a move he hadn't thought his friend capable of, Bucky turned, and caught the shield in his right hand.

Instead of using the shield to engage Steve or throwing it back, Bucky jammed it repeatedly against the engine. With one swipe, he took out one of the landing gears. Sparks shot from the underside of the quinjet, getting in Bucky's hair and on his clothing.

Steve rushed to stop Bucky, just missing when he jumped onto the top of the quinjet. With a few well-placed hits, he damaged the flaps to the point that the quinjet wouldn't fly.

Meanwhile, the cabin filled with smoke. The fire suppression system didn't work, forcing Clint to open the hatch or die of smoke inhalation.

The moment the hatch touched the ground, Bucky stood at the bottom waiting, and a moment later, Clint came out, coughing, and holding on to keep from losing his balance in the smoke.

Once again, Bucky drew his arm back, ready to throw the shield. An action that was not completed due to Natasha slipping past Steve to jab the stunner into Bucky's lower back.

Bucky's stiffened as bright bolts of electricity danced over his form. His arms contracted, and the shield fell to the ground. When the power was spent, Bucky was still conscious, his chest heaving as his lungs took in great gulps of air. Then slowly he turned, apparently having forgotten about Clint and his reason for chasing him. "Locate and terminate secondary target."

Inching close, Steve picked up the shield. Natasha appeared in his peripheral vision. She lifted her chin, telling him to ask the question.

"Identify the secondary target."

Bucky turned his head just a little, looking over Steve's shoulder as if he didn't know who he was. "SHIELD director Nick Fury must be terminated."

 **TBC**

William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 (baptized) – 23 April 1616) was an English poet, playwright, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist.

 _Macbeth_ (full title _The Tragedy of Macbeth_ ) is a tragedy written by William Shakespeare. Set mainly in Scotland, the play dramatizes the damaging physical and psychological effects of political ambition on those who seek power for its own sake. The play is believed to have been written between 1599 and 1606.

 _All days are nights to see till I see thee/And nights bright days when dreams do show me thee._

William Shakespeare's Sonnet 43 employs antithesis and paradox to highlight the speaker's yearning for his beloved and sadness in (most likely) their absence, and confusion about the situation described in the previous three sonnets.

 _The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_ , often shortened to _Hamlet_ , is a tragedy written by William Shakespeare at an uncertain date between 1599 and 1602. Set in the Kingdom of Denmark, the play dramatizes the revenge Prince Hamlet is called to wreak upon his uncle, Claudius, by the ghost of Hamlet's father, King Hamlet.

Shakespeare in the Park is a theatrical program that stages productions of Shakespearean plays at an open theater.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Reminder: When the deaf characters are in a scene, assume that the others are signing for their benefit, unless it states otherwise.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 32**

 **Joi's Apartment**

Joi awoke on the sofa to someone knocking on her door. She wasn't expecting anyone, and didn't really want to answer it anyway, but they were persistent. Kicking the sheet off, she yawned as she crossed to the door, stopping to check the mirror. Not bad for having just gotten up. One part of her still sleeping brain wondered why she hadn't slept in her room while the other took in the clothes lying haphazardly on the floor and furniture reminding her that Elyse and Frank had stayed the night.

Shrugging, she peeked out the peephole. Two people, a man and a woman, stood there waiting not so patiently. They were stylishly dressed to impress, and they did. The man raised his hand to knock just as she jerked the door open, hope it would scare them. It didn't. "Yes?"

The woman smiled. "Good morning, Ms. Lockwood. My name is Bella Quinn, and this is my partner, Laz Ravi. Do you mind if we come in?"

Suspicious, Joi was about to slam the door in their faces and call the police when the man held up his hand.

"I apologize, Ms. Lockwood. We should've explained our presence." He reached into an inside pocket and passed her a business card. "Bella and I saw you on the _Chef vs. Chef Challenge_. We're producing a new cooking show for the Culinary Channel, and we would like to speak to you about hosting."

Stunned, Joi was just able to produce a pleasant smile of welcome. "Please come in." She ran around gathering up the clothes. "Sorry it's a mess. Have a seat." Opening the bedroom door, she threw the clothes in and closed it again, doing a double take. She cracked the door, verifying she'd seen what she thought she saw, and she was right. Frank and Elyse were spooned under the covers in her bed. The door was closed again, and she passed through the living room to the kitchen. "I'll make us some coffee."

While the coffee brewed, Joi took three cups and saucers down then went back for two more. She filled three of the cups, placed them on a tray with milk, sweetener, and a small tin of homemade cookies. Bella and Laz prepared their coffee, took one cookie each, and waited for Joi to do the same before sipping.

"You want _me_ to host a cooking show?"

Bella replaced the cup in its saucer, balanced the cookie on the edge, and clasped her hands together over her crossed knees. "Indeed we do, my dear. In fact, I felt, and Laz agreed with me, that you had wonderful camaraderie with all of the contestants, particularly Frank Vitale."

Shifting in his seat as if the sofa were lumpy and uncomfortable, Laz gestured with his cookie. "There was another as well, Bella, darling. What was her name?"

"Hmm…Elizabeth? Eliza?"

"Elyse?" Joi prompted.

Her guests smiled hugely, Bella continuing. "Yes! I knew it was an E name. Now, what we were thinking…"

 _OMG!_ Joi thought. _They should be in on this too_. She pointed a finger in the air. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

Startled, Bella frowned. "Of course."

Joi went into the bedroom, closed the door and did a silent victory dance, but just for a moment. Standing over the bed, she grasped the edge of the thin blanket. Dreading what she might see, she yanked the cover off her friends, surprised to find that each was wrapped in a separate sheet, and that Frank had one hand between his knees, and the other under the pillow. Both were dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts that Steve had left behind at one time or another.

Grabbing one of the shams, Joi hit first Frank then Elyse. Both came awake with a start, muttering "What the ****?"

Elyse rolled over until she was face to face with Frank. His eyes opened, they both screamed and fell off opposite sides of the bed.

Waving her hands, Joi hissed at them to be quiet. "Get your butts up and out to the living room. We have guests."

"What d'you mean 'we'?" Elyse asked, rubbing her eyes.

"We. As in you, me, and Frank, doofus!" She pointed at the door. "At this moment, sitting in _my_ living room, drinking _my_ coffee, and eating _my_ cookies are two people who want to offer _us_ our own show!"

~~O~~

Bella took a small bite of her cookie and washed it down with the coffee. Both she and Laz jerked around at the muffled screams, and dual thumps on the floor. They could hear voices speaking, but not what was being said. She glanced at her watch, and Laz knew what she was thinking. They'd give Joi another thirty seconds to reappear then they would go and find someone else to make into a star.

At twenty-two seconds, the bedroom door opened, and Joi returned, followed by a tall, lanky man and a tall, stunning woman. Frank pulled a dining room chair over and straddled the seat with his arms resting on the back. The woman, Elyse, perched on the ottoman, her knees coming up to her chest.

"Frank and Elyse, this Bella and Laz." Joi resumed her seat in the armchair, smiling sweetly. "You were saying?"

Laz ignored Bella's "accidental" elbow jab, a signal that they should go. "What Bella and I would like to do is audition the three of you as hosts of a new cooking show we're producing. We'll do several fifteen- to thirty-minute segments consisting of one with the three of you working together, one of each of you alone, and follow that with pairing you up."

Bella picked up the thread. "They will be done in front of a small studio audience then each segment will be shown to a focus group who will give their opinions. From there, we'll make a decision as to who will be the host, or hosts, as the case may be. Once the choice is made, we'll begin pre-production by auditioning stage bands." The three young people stared at Bella and her partner without speaking or blinking. "What do you say?"

The three friends shared a glance, faced Bella and Laz again, and smiled, speaking together, "We accept."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

With a humorless grin, Steve told his entranced friend, "Can't let you do that."

As expected, Steve's comment was ignored. Rawlins' team had joined Rumlow's, all aiming their weapons at Bucky. With such concentrated firepower, whether tranquilizers or actual bullets, Bucky wouldn't have a chance.

Hit with an idea that only had a slim chance of working, Steve motioned for the strike teams to back off, and reluctantly, they did. "Nick Fury is dead. Your mission is over, Bucky. Return to base."

"My name's not Bucky."

"Then who are you?"

Confused for a moment, Bucky blinked slowly, as if his thought processes were slowed down. "The Asset. There must be visual confirmation of the death of Nick Fury." His eyes fell on the shield in Steve's hand, his expression hardening. "Primary target Captain Steve Rogers not terminated."

Steve met Bucky head on. He swung the shield, knocking Bucky against the side of the conning tower. He fell into a pile of crates and equipment, and the crew scattered as Bucky got to his feet, a metal bar in his right hand. He looked at his left then at both hands, turning them over, a small crease of confusion appearing between his eyes. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, comparing them to his right. And though it seemed that his attention was diverted, he was still able to mount a defense when Steve came at him.

~~O~~

Bruce watched the monitor in his office. Bucky grabbed the shield as Steve swung, using the momentum to throw him out onto the helicarrier's runway. Thankfully, no quinjets were landing. Steve pushed to his feet as Natasha moved in with the stun rod. She hit Bucky in the back again, but nothing happened. Tossing the useless weapon aside, she used a crate to launch herself onto his shoulders. But before she could use her Widow's Bites, Bucky grabbed her around the waist and threw her toward the advancing strike team who managed to catch her before she hit the deck.

Frustrated that he couldn't help, Bruce pushed away from the desk, pacing to disperse the excess adrenaline. On the second lap, his eyes caught sight of the wolf, giving him what had to be the most brilliant plan B anyone had ever come up with in the history of plan Bs. He grabbed the stuffed animal, shed his lab coat, and made his way out on deck.

By now, the men were near the side of the boat, Bucky trying to wrap his fingers around Steve's throat, and the shield too far away for the super-soldier to reach. Natasha grabbed his arm as he started in their direction. "I don't think a Code Green's gonna help, Bruce."

Bruce held up the wolf, shaking it, "What about a Code _Grey_?"

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up in a half smile. She motioned for the strike teams to stand down, Rumlow and Rawlins sharing a look that said both Avengers had to be nuts. Bruce conceded the point, but sometimes nuts was the only thing that worked.

Circling around on Bucky's right, Bruce held the toy behind his back. Steve broke the hold on his throat, nearly losing his balance when Bucky advanced so quickly he'd been back up to the edge. Wind from the turbines blew Bucky's hair away from his face. Gone was the anger that had come with the activation of the post-hypnotic suggestions with regards to Steve and Fury. Bruce wondered what else could be lurking inside his head just waiting for the right combination of words or sounds to bring it out.

Steve saw Bruce approaching. "Do it!"

Bucky turned his head when Bruce came into his field of vision. The heart monitor on Bruce's wrist gave a warning beep telling him that his pulse rate had begun to climb. He held the wolf out where Bucky could see it. "James, do you want to see the wolf?"

Bucky released Steve so abruptly, he stumbled, just managing not to fall over the side. Bruce let Bucky take the toy, again clutching it to his chest like a child. He backed up a few steps, giving Steve a little more room to breathe.

Keeping his voice calm and even, Bruce took Bucky through the ritual. "Breathe deeply, James. Fill your lungs with oxygen, and slowly let the air out, completely emptying your lungs." His charge did as ordered. "Another deep breath. In… and out. Good. You're feeling calm and content." Bruce pointed his chin. Natasha nodded, motioning for everyone to stand down, and back away, to show no aggression. "James, we're going inside now."

Strangely, Bucky held out his hand, his manner that of a child with a parent. Without hesitating, or even caring how it would look, Bruce took his hand. He led him into the boat, down to the detention level, and into a cell. The Hulk chamber would need repair before it could be used again. Not that it had done any good this time. If Bucky was able to break out so easily, the Hulk would've turned it to scrap within moments.

"Sit down, James." He sat on the side of the bed. Bruce pulled his hand free, and sat on the chair. "I'm going to ask you some questions. You must answer all of them in full detail. Don't leave anything out. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Glancing up at the camera, Bruce knew that Natasha, Clint and Steve were watching. "James, tell me the names of all future targets, beginning with the primary, and your orders regarding them."

In a voice devoid of inflection, James recited what turned out to be a shorter list than Bruce had feared. "Primary target: Captain Steve Rogers. Sanction, and eliminate witnesses. Secondary target: SHIELD director Nick Fury. Sanction, and eliminate witnesses. Tertiary target: SHIELD helicarrier. Destroy. Quaternary target: SHIELD headquarters, Washington D.C. Destroy…"

Bruce let James talk without really listening. Not until he heard names he hadn't expected.

"…Nonary target: Dr. Stephen Strange. Sanction, and eliminate witnesses. Denary target: Dr. Bruce Banner. Sanction, and eliminate witnesses…"

"That's enough. You've performed well, James." Without changing his expression, Bucky somehow gave the sense of being pleased with himself. "Your assignments have all been completed, with verifiable proof. Your services will no longer be required. Do you understand?"

He held the wolf fractionally tighter. "Yes, I understand."

This time, when Bruce attempted to take the toy, Bucky refused to let go. "James, the wolf has to go away for a while, but he'll be back. Until then, you won't think about the wolf, or what his purpose is." Finally, he released his hold. Bruce handed it to a guard just outside the door. "I'm going to count from five down to one. When the count reaches one, you will feel wide awake, fully alert, completely refreshed, and remember nothing about your fight with Clint Barton and Steve Rogers."

This time, Bucky nodded.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One."

~~O~~

Blinking in the dim light, Bucky looked around, his eyes landing on Bruce. "Hey. What happened?" At Bruce's expression, Bucky's good feeling vanished. "Not again. What did I do this time?"

Bruce patted him on the knee. "We'll talk about it later, James."

"Wait. Where am I?"

"My colleagues and I agreed that you're ready for an upgrade in your accommodations." He gestured at the room. Unlike the glass-walled cell, here Bucky had a bed, a small table, a chair, and a lamp. The walls on three sides were bare, no windows, and there was a single step down that led to a reinforced door through which Bucky could see heavily armed guards. "I'll come check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, and let the guards know if you need anything."

Light flashed, filling the space floor to ceiling, and wall to wall. Bruce walked to the door, and the light flashed again. Getting up, Bucky went to the edge of the step, and as he neared the area where he'd seen the light, he felt the hairs on his arms stand up. Reaching out with his right hand, he pressed against the force field holding him in. It sparked and snapped at the contact. "Thanks, I guess. At least in the other cell I could look out. Can't complain too much though. Got a bed now."

Bruce turned to go, and Bucky reached out to stop him, coming up against the force field. "Ow! Dammit! Bruce? Ask Natasha to come see me, please."

The smile Bruce produced seemed strained. "If I see her, I will."

The heavy door slammed, and locked. Huffing, Bucky went back to sit on the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between them, not needing to be told he'd had another episode. The last thing he remembered was giving Bruce permission to try an experiment that had to do with music. And now he was here. He doubted this room was more secure. The walls didn't look like anything special. With his strength, he could break out at any time. But it wouldn't get him answers. He could demand an explanation, and Bruce, Steve and Natasha would probably give it to him, but did he really want to know what happened during his blackout? Yes, and no. It was all so frustrating, and for some reason, Bucky also felt remorse, and not a little shame mixed with thirst, and intense hunger.

"Hello-o!" he addressed the unseen camera. "I need something to drink please."

" _What would you like, General Barnes?_ "

Bucky snorted out a humorless sound. "Alcohol, and lots of it, except I can't get drunk. Water, I guess. Cold. And food. Enough to feed a family of four. I feel like I haven't eaten in _days_. Something to read, and a deck of cards."

" _Coming up, sir._ "

Under his breath, Bucky muttered, "Oh, joy."

~~O~~

Arms crossed, and feet shoulder width apart, Clint glared at the monitor showing Bucky shoveling massive amounts of food into his mouth. The man hadn't known what was going on when he accused him of sleeping with Natasha, and Clint wanted to tell him why it wasn't possible, but that would mean making his most precious secret basically public knowledge, endangering his wife and kids. Naturally, he would tell Laura about it, and they'd have a laugh together. He hadn't been lying to Bucky when he said he found Natasha attractive. He'd have to be dead not to. There was also no way he'd jeopardize his marriage and family by cheating. Laura knew it, Natasha knew it, and some day, he hoped Bucky would know it too.

Another truth he'd told was the part about not cheating with a woman who was sort of engaged to another man. Even if he were single, Clint had a poor opinion of people who stepped-out on their significant others.

Why would Bucky think they were sleeping together anyway? Clint had never formally met the man, yet he seemed to think there was more to their relationship than being friends and partners. Perhaps it was time to set the record straight once and for all.

Clint left the security room, and made his way down to detention. Natasha joined him just before the last turn. "Why are you here, Clint?"

"You heard what I heard. He thinks we're doubling up. Thought if we met face to face, he'd know there's nothing going on between us."

They stopped outside Bucky's cell. "Bruce thinks it's all part of what Heath did to him. That seeing you and me together put it in his head."

Footsteps echoed in the hall a moment before Bruce came into sight. "What's this?"

Natasha nodded at the door. "Introducing Clint to James. It's time he met my best friend."

"That might not be a good idea just yet." He gestured with tablet in his left hand. "I'm not a psychotherapist, so I contacted a friend of mine, a professor of psychology at John's Hopkins. While he was in private practice, he specialized in hypnosis and hypnotherapy. We did a video conference, and he gave me some observations and advice about James and his condition."

Rubbing the back of his head, Clint huffed. "If Barnes could rip the door off the Hulk chamber like it was taffy, why did he let us keep him locked up all this time?"

Bruce looked at Clint over the top of his wire-frame glasses. "Because he wants to know what's going on more than we do. I'm sure you remember what it was like having someone else in control of your actions, and not being able to do a damn thing about it." He saw that Clint got the message. "It was only a few days for you. Imagine if it had been going on for years."

"Point taken. How're we going to get him over this, doc? Nat's my best friend. It would be weird not to have her over just because her BF wants to rip my head off. Unjustifiably, I might add."

Natasha peeked in the window. Bucky was lying in bed reading, the empty dishes stacked on the table. Clint looked too, but couldn't see the title of the book. He touched Natasha on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Nat. Right, doc?"

"We're doing everything we can. From what my friend told me, there could be all sorts of hidden dangers lurking inside his head. Without Heath's records, there's no way to know what other 'suggestions' were made."

She smiled sadly, and nodded. "We'll watch from Security."

Bruce shrugged. "I don't recommend it, but it's up to you." He nodded to the guard, the door clicked open, and the guard shut it behind him.

~~O~~

"How're you doing, James? Mind if we talk?"

Bucky set the book aside, and sat up. Someone had brought in a chair for Bruce. He positioned it near the force field, sat down, and crossed one leg over the other.

"Please."

The ubiquitous tablet came out, Bruce holding it in one hand, but not looking at it. "I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of your actions-which you had no control over. However, we need to talk about a few things."

"Go ahead. I'm an open book. Literally."

"We want you to know that you're not as alone as you think. Clint, Natasha, me, we all know how you're feeling. That sense of helplessness, of not being in control of your actions, of someone else pulling your strings, and all the emotions that come with it."

Bucky rubbed his hands together, waiting for Bruce to continue, and when he did, Bucky wanted to cover his ears and hum to keep from hearing the rest.

"We discovered your therapist, Dr. Heath, has been hypnotizing you for years."

Stunned, Bucky bit out, "What the hell?! He came highly recommended by my previous therapist, Dr. Bentley."

Bruce tapped at the tablet. "What happened to Dr. Bentley?"

Shrugging, Bucky sighed. "Retired. That was, mmm, six, no seven years ago in February, I think."

The tablet beeped, and as he read the display, his expression changed from curious to a deep concern. "The body of a man by the name of Reginald Bentley washed up on Williams Wharf on the Pata-Paxta-…"

"Patuxent."

"Thank you. Patuxent River the first week of March of that year. Six foot-one, two-thirty, balding, African-American." Bruce held up a photo.

"That's him. Said he was moving to Florida to play golf, and enjoy the year-round sunshine."

More tapping and more beeping. "The COD is listed as a single gunshot to the base of the skull. He died instantly." More tapping, and another sigh. "And he wasn't a psychologist. There are no records that anyone by that name ever attended an accredited-or unaccredited-university. There is, however, a Reginald Bentley who once made a marginal living as a psychic reader."

Slapping his thighs with his hands, Bucky got up and went to lean on the wall near the force field. "If I don't look surprised, it's because I'm not. After everything that's happened…"

Bucky covered a yawn with his fist, and Bruce used it as an excuse to take some time to himself, to decompress. "Of course. Get some sleep, and we'll pick this up in the morning."

After Bruce was gone, Bucky lay down on the bed. At some point, he'd been given clean scrubs, though he didn't remember changing. _Whatever_. _I am so done with all of this s***_. With a sigh, he laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Natasha let herself in the front door, and tossed her wallet and keys on the table by the stairs. "Clint? Kids?"

The only answer was the pattering of what sounded like hundreds of feet a split second before the cats came running from several directions at once, all clamoring for her attention. They danced around, crying and twining themselves around her legs. She crouched down to give them each a head scratch in greeting. "Hello, _moya lyubov'_. I've missed you too. What would you like for dinner tonight?"

Priscilla, the spokescat, jumped on the counter to paw at the cabinet where the canned food was kept. "Tuna it is."

She took down three cans of tuna, drained the water into two dishes, and set them on the floor to hold them until the other was ready. Setting out five plates, she portioned the tuna, and slid it across to the other side of the counter so she could set it on the floor.

Ryder had made progress since he'd been with them, and often interacted with the other cats though he still held himself somewhat aloof, as if their antics were beneath him. He finished his share of the tuna, and did a quick face and whisker grooming, after which, he followed Natasha into the living room. Sitting at her feet with his long black tail curled around, Ryder stared a hole between her eyes.

"What's wrong, Ryder?" The cat walked toward the stairs, stopping halfway, waiting for her to follow. He led her up to the master bedroom, and jumped on Bucky's side of the bed, sniffing at his pillow. She picked him up, something he seldom allowed, and rubbed his neck and chin. "I miss Daddy too. But don't worry. He'll be home soon."

Back downstairs, Natasha admired the repairs Clint had done on the damaged wall and windows. To her, it looked just as it did before. Even the curtains looked like they needed to be taken down and cleaned. Something she'd planned on doing last week.

Not for the first time, she felt pride in her best friend, and his ability to get a job done with minimal fuss. Most of the time. This time, he had help from Bucky's grandchildren, and knowing Clint, he had treated them like his own kids.

Speaking of which…

A motorcycle, followed closely by Bucky's SUV, pulled into the driveway, and soon, the front door opened amid laughter, the babble of voices, and excited signing, Clint in the middle soaking it all in. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Ryder darted into the den, closely followed by his siblings. Natasha softly closed the door, listening to Clint and his enraptured audience.

He made the sign for silence, arms crossed, left in front of right, moving away from the body, and everyone got quiet. Signing, and speaking through his smug grin, Clint asked, "What lesson did you take away from tonight's outing, kids?"

Collin waved his hand. _Never try to hustle a hustler?_

"Exactly. I've been doing this most of my life. I read faces, and body language like a children's book." He took a wad of bills from his pocket. "Just remember, it's the fool who thinks he can't be fooled."

Chase pushed his way to the front. "What about you? Ever been fooled, conned, hustled, hoodwinked, bamboozled, or hornswoggled?"

The cash went back into his pocket. "Not since I was thirteen." The kids laughed, and they finally noticed Natasha. They swarmed around her demanding to know how Bucky was doing. Their cacophony of voice came to a screeching halt when Clint put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Don't crowd. Put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and give us a couple of minutes."

Grumbling, they did as he said, staying in the kitchen for the moment. He watched them go, smiling affectionately when he faced her again.

Natasha crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. "What did you do?"

"Nothing special. We went to Lefty's Sports Bar for dinner, and the game. Some jerk and his pals tried to take advantage of Collin at the pool table, and the kindhearted man that I am, I showed them the error of their ways."

"You took 'em to church."

"Pool, darts, air hockey, foosball." Clint pulled out the cash again. "When I got done with them, they repented their sins, _and_ left a sizable donation in the collection plate." At her hard stare, he huffed. "I'm not _keeping_ it, Nat. It's going to the Wounded Warriors Project."

She snatched the cash from him, flipping through the bills. "I make almost a grand."

"About that."

Natasha reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a good man, Hawkeye."

Clint shoved the money in his pocket, and rubbed the end of his nose in embarrassment. "Yeah, well, I couldn't let the kid get taken."

All talk from the kitchen had stopped, and when the Avengers turned around, they were being watched by six pairs of eyes. Natasha waved them in, gave them a quick rundown on Bucky while everyone found seats. Afterward, they settled in to watch a movie.

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

 **The Next Morning**

"Good morning, James. How did you sleep?"

Bucky downed the last of his coffee, stacked the dishes together, and went to stand near the force field, waggling his hand. "So-so. I miss my family, Natasha, and the cats." Bruce looked at him over the top of his glasses. "They like to sleep with us. We've tried closing the door, but then they sit outside and cry until we let them in."

Chuckling, Bruce held up the tablet. "We're going to get you home as soon as possible. Now that you're rested, I'm going to show you a video."

"Of?"

Bruce moved closer to the force field, dragging the chair behind him. "You."

He paused, and that set Bucky's senses tingling, and not in a good way. Not that they hadn't been for a while. This just made it worse. "I'm in a trance or something, right? Please tell me I'm not clucking like a chicken."

"No." Again, Bruce hesitated, a long breath huffing out. "In this video you're trying to kill Steve… And Clint Barton."

 **TBC**

OCs:

Bella Quinn and Laz Ravi are producing a cooking show for the Culinary Channel

Wounded Warrior Project (WWP) is a charity and veterans service organization that offers a variety of programs, service and events for wounded veterans of the military actions following the events of September 11, 2001. It operates as a nonprofit organization.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 33**

Instead of going to security, Clint and Natasha watched Bruce and Bucky from Bruce's office, leaving Steve in security. That way the partners and friends could talk without being overheard. Well, once Clint deactivated the cameras and audio, bypassed security on the computer, set up a data dump to an off-site storage where they could retrieve the videos later, and brought in an extra chair, snacks, and drinks.

The partners settled in to watch, neither saying a word, preferring to listen, not only to what Bucky was saying, but to the tone of his voice, and his body language.

~~O~~

"I'm going to show you a video, James. Then we'll talk."

Bruce tapped the screen, and held it so Bucky could see it. The longer he watched, the more ashamed he became. No, humiliated was word. He covered his faced with both hands, not wanting to see himself going all caveman on a man he'd never met over Natasha. Down inside, did he really feel like she was his property? He must, or else why would he behave as he did even under the influence of that quack Heath's hypnosis?

When he went back to fighting with Steve, Bucky looked up, unable to meet Bruce's eyes. If he could erase the recording, and the memory from the minds of all who'd been involved, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But that wasn't a possibility. All he could do was deal with the consequences of his actions, whether he was in control or not. "Natasha and Clint must hate me."

"She doesn't hate you, James. And Clint doesn't know you."

"Are you sure? About Nat, I mean. Because… Wait. Is she watching? I can't talk about this if she's here."

Bruce peered over the top of his glasses, and back to the tablet. "She, uh, received a call from one of your grandkids, and went home to check on them. Should be back in a couple of hours."

Bucky paced to the opposite wall and back. "Look, I _know_ she's not being faithful. I just wish she'd tell me the truth instead of lying to me all the time, and pretending it's one of her missions when she's really seeing him."

"Him who? Clint?" Somehow, without saying a word, or changing his expression, Bruce gave the impression of making an eye roll. "They're _friends_ , James. They partner up for missions, on occasion. Nothing more. I know the crew and staff talk, but that's all it is. Talk, brought on by envy, and lack of known facts. Trust me, with Natasha, there's always more _and_ less to the situation than anyone knows, or may ever know."

~~O~~

Leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, Clint kept his gaze averted from Natasha's. He didn't want to see her pain, and especially not her anger. Having been the recipient of both, he felt bad for Bucky. Natasha could only hold her temper for so long before she snapped.

He caught sight of the time, and jumped up. "I have to get back to the house." She didn't respond, and Clint touched her on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm _always_ okay."

"If you're sure, 'cause I can call and tell them I'll be late."

She looked up at him with a sad smile. "Go. I got this."

"Well, you know who to call if you need anything."

Absently, she patted his hand, her attention back on the situation in the detention cell.

 **Alma J. Finkelstein Memorial Park**

 **Washington D.C.**

The empty picnic basket swung from Justin's right hand as he and Rey walked back to their cars. Rey had her hand around his bicep just above the elbow. Their steps were slow, and measured, as if both were reluctant to end the night. Rey knew she was, but couldn't get a read on Justin.

He had been a highly entertaining, and charming dinner date partner. So much so, that she began to wonder if he was purposely laying it on thick to lull her into a false sense of security. Later, she came to the conclusion that what she saw is what she was getting. At no time during their evening did she get the sense that he was less or more than what he presented himself as. He treated everyone the same, as if they mattered, and that the world was richer for having them in it.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"That had to be the _weirdest_ showing of _Hamlet_ I've ever seen."

Rey agreed. "In my wildest dreams, I would never have expected the actors to appear in cutoffs and t-shirts with their character's name across the front and back."

"Not to mention the gravedigger carrying a chainsaw instead of a shovel."

"I know, right? How do you dig a _grave_ with a chainsaw?"

Another chuckle. "And what was up with Hamlet's hair?" Using the hand holding the basket to make a grand gesture, Justin pompously intoned, "O, there has been much throwing about of brains." He looked down at her with a wry smile. "Unfortunately, it wasn't in the minds of the set or costume designers."

"Maybe they're minimalists. They want the focus to be on Shakespeare's words, the meanings, and emotions behind them instead of their surroundings." They both contemplated that in silence, until Rey added, "Or they're just idiots."

"There you go." They stopped beside Rey's two-door hybrid. Justin set the basket on the hood of his car, and they faced each other. Now that they weren't touching, Rey felt a small amount of guilt for her deception.

"I had a good time tonight."

"Me too." She looked down at their feet. Both wore sneakers, shorts, and t-shirts. The hair on his legs was dark to match the rest. She especially liked that little bit peeking out over the collar of his shirt. "Justin, there's something I should tell you."

His hands went into his pockets. "Aren't confessions more of a fourth date thing?"

"Not a confession, exactly. It's more a sin of omission than an out and out lie."

"Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies." Rey's mouth dropped open. Was he being serious or just playing around? Justin used a finger to close her mouth. "Kidding. How big is this secret? Earth shattering, like you're an alien come to enslave the human population by making them dependent upon coffee and donuts? If so, then mission accomplished. Or more like 'I have a tattoo of Darth Vader on my ass'?"

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

Bucky halted his pacing, and swung around to glare at Bruce with suspicion. "And why should I trust _you_? We only met a couple of weeks ago. Are _you_ sleeping with her too? Is that it? Or is it you, and not this Clint guy?"

Annoyed, and more than a little upset that Bucky had somehow brought him into his delusion, Bruce countered his question with one of his own. "Has Natasha ever given you reason to think she wasn't faithful?"

"You mean besides keeping secrets, not telling me where's she's going or where she's been, even if it was only to the grocery store? Getting phone calls at all hours of the day and night, mysterious texts that she deletes and says they're nothing?"

"That's how it is, James. Secrets are what keeps her, and others like her, alive, because trusting the wrong person can get you killed. It's a difficult habit to break, even with the people you love."

Bucky got up close to the force field, pressing his hands against it, making it spark and crackle. If he didn't stop, he'd be repelled.

Getting to his feet, Bruce put out a conciliatory hand. "Calm down, James. And step away from the force field before you get hurt."

He snorted without humor, but didn't back off. "We've already established that stunning, tranquilizers, and being bashed over the head doesn't work for the long-term. How do you plan on stopping me?" His hands slapped the field hard, his voice loud in the confined space. " _How?_ "

"If the field reacts, it's true it won't last for long, but it'll hurt."

~~O~~

The anger that had nearly reached a boiling point suddenly cooled, and Natasha could now see the situation with clarity. The suspicions Bucky was voicing to Bruce were unfounded, naturally. Someone who'd been betrayed by people who purported to love her made trusting others difficult, if not impossible. She had given her trust to James their first night together. Giving her heart took a little longer, but she'd done it, and it had been freeing, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And to have him throw it back in her face like this, well, it just wasn't something the Bucky she knew and loved would do.

Her eyes fell on the wolf crouched on the shelf above the monitor. She grabbed it by that ridiculous snout, and made her way down to the detention level. Taking out her phone, she sent a text to Bruce's tablet, and received a lengthy reply, adding to her idea. A moment later, she tapped at the door. The guard opened it just far enough for her to pass Bruce the wolf, then she went into the security office to watch.

~~O~~

Holding the wolf behind his back, Bruce came to stand close to the field. Bucky had given up pushing against the field, and went to sit on the bed again, with no abatement of his agitation. The heel of one foot tapped the floor in a rapid rhythm while he rubbed his hands together.

When he saw Bruce approaching, he came to confront him again, slamming his hands against the field once more. "Ready to confess, Dr. Banner?"

"There's nothing to confess, James." He nodded as a signal, and several things happened in rapid succession.

The next time Bucky hit the field, security shut it off. He stumbled forward, catching himself before he could fall.

The heart monitor on Bruce's wrist gave a warning beep to let him know his heart rate was nearing the danger zone. He brought the wolf from behind his back, holding up so Bucky could see it. "James, do you want to see the wolf?"

In less than a second, Bucky had gone into his trance. Bruce handed him the toy, he hugged it close, and his features went slack. No trace of animosity remained.

Bruce glanced at his heart monitor, relieved to see the numbers falling. "Go sit on the bed, James." He waited while Bucky complied, and against orders, joined him in the enclosure. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. Thirsty. Tired."

"We'll get you something soon. No headache then?" Bucky shook his head, and tightened his hold on the wolf, at the same time Bruce received a message from Fury via Hill. The director had been monitoring the proceedings, and wanted to weigh in. Pleased with Fury's assessment of Bucky's situation, and with his solution, his shoulders sagged. Dragging the chair over, Bruce sat close to Bucky. "James, we're going to talk about a few things that might be upsetting, but it has to be done. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. James, tell me about Natasha. Who is she? What does she look like?"

Bucky's slack features brightened fractionally, and a small smile was on his face. "My girlfriend. Petite, curvy, wavy auburn hair." He brushed his tongue over his upper lip as if trying to recall a particular flavor. "Her lips are full, a dusky pink color, and the taste varies. Mint, cinnamon, coffee, merlot."

Ignoring the sensations that Bucky's images invoked, Bruce continued. "What color are her eyes?"

That smile was back. "Green, cat-like, with warm honey in a star pattern around the pupils. When she's aroused, they turn the shade of green when you're deep in the forest, under a canopy of mid-summer leaves."

"Do you…"

But Bucky wasn't done.

" _Green eyes  
Smiling there for me  
As lovely as can be  
For all the world to see_

 _Green eyes  
Oh, how they sparkle and shine  
I look at her and wish  
That her love was mine_

 _I love her green eyes  
Like cat eyes in the night  
No matter where she goes  
They always catch the light_

 _Green eyes in the morning  
Awaken from a sleep  
Holding her next to me  
That is all I seek_

 _Green eyes please tell me  
This is where you want to stay  
Green eyes please tell me  
You'll wake up here every day_."

The poem sounded familiar, but Bruce didn't know the name of the author. "James, do you love her?"

He nodded, a slow up and down. "Loved her since the moment I saw her at the museum."

Bruce had suspected, and nodded at the confirmation. "She loves you too."

The smile faded, turned to sorrow. "No. She's being unfaithful."

"How do you know?" Bucky's expression changed to confusion. He turned his head, as if trying to remember. "Who told you Natasha was being unfaithful?"

More confusion. "I can't see his face. All I can hear is his voice."

The door opened, and Natasha joined him, taking the other chair.

"James, listen to me. The voice is lying. Nothing the voice said was true. Natasha has never cheated on you, and never will. You trust her with your life. You want to marry Natasha."

"Yes, I do. And have children with her, but she can't. That's why we have the cats. They will be our children."

Resisting a glance over his shoulder to verify the one piece of information that wasn't relevant, Bruce went onto the next subject. "We're going to do something different this time, James." Again, Bucky squeezed the wolf tighter, as if he thought it would be taken from him. "You can keep the wolf, but I need you to put it down." He waited while Bucky complied, setting it close to his side. "There's a book on the bed. Each page represents one year of your life. Pick it up." Bucky did as he was told. "Open it to the first page, the day you were born. What is the date?"

"March 10, 1917."

In response to Natasha's silent question, he showed her first the advice from his friend at John's Hopkins then Fury's orders. The director stated that due to the nature of how the alleged assassinations were carried out, Bucky could not be held responsible. And because all were attributed to natural causes or accidents, and there was no evidence pointing specifically to Bucky as the culprit, prosecution would prove futile.

Satisfied with how the procedure was going, Bruce relaxed. "Now, James, turn to the page that shows the first time you were hypnotized." He waited while Bucky complied, a bit surprised when he stopped after fewer turns than expected. "Where are you?"

"Europe. Strapped to a table in a lab."

"What's the date?"

Bucky's forehead crinkled in thought. "1944. Summer, I think. Don't know the exact date. Can't see the sky, and we're not fed on a regular schedule."

"How did you get there?"

"My squad was captured by Schmidt's men."

Though it was all a part of public record, Bruce still had to lead Bucky through the steps to get to the information he wanted. "Is anyone with you? What's the room like?"

"Men in white coats. It's cold, and dark."

"How do you feel?"

He swayed, his head lolling back. "Woozy. They gave me something. Injections all over my body."

Natasha's hand on his shoulder squeezed to the point of pain. Bruce reached up to give it a comforting pat, and peel the fingers from his flesh. She flashed him an apologetic smile. "What happened next?"

"They're talking." He chuckled. "Don't know I speak German."

"What are they saying?"

" _Das Thema ist viel versprechend. Er hat dauerte schon länger als jeder der anderen_."

 **Alma J. Finkelstein Memorial Park**

 **Washington D.C.**

Rey laughed as Justin hoped she would. This relationship was so new, there were bound to be more confessions, revelations, and secrets revealed as it progressed. He had a few of his own to tell someday. He was also taken aback by the assumption that they would continue seeing each other beyond a few dates, coffee, or drinks meetings.

One side of Rey's mouth curved upward. "Closer to the last one."

To cover his stray thoughts, he shrugged his shoulders up around his ears. "You can tell me if you want. Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. To me at least." Rey leaned against the side of her car, hands pushed into the pockets of her shorts, pulling the waistband down so that her navel peeked out when she breathed deeply. "I know your brother, Chase. He wanted to introduce us. Showed me all these pictures of the two of you together. But, blind dates are so…"

"Awkward? Uncomfortable? Feel like a job interview? Fraught with expectations that somehow never turns out the way it was meant to?" Justin flexed his biceps. "Says he looks like The Rock, but ends up looking like, well, me?"

She smiled shyly. "And more. That's why when I saw you in Discount Mart, totally by accident, I introduced myself. To see if there was anything there."

Thinking back over the last few months, Justin recalled that his twin had talked about a woman he wanted him to meet. "Don't remember Chase mentioning your name."

"Oh, I know he did. He told me, and I can tell when he's lying." From her back pocket, Rey pulled out her wallet, and handed him her license. "My full name is Reya Celeste Medina. Chase calls me Celeste because that's how my mother introduced us. He works on the computers at her job."

Relieved that the secret wasn't bigger, or weirder, Justin pointed at her, exclaiming, " _You're_ Celeste? Oh, man. Chase has been bugging me for _months_ to meet you. I've been so busy with the night club, my grandfather not well, and a bunch of other crap too boring to mention that I kept putting it off."

"Yeah. I know. Been busy myself. Trying to save up to buy the studio where I work. The owner is retiring next year, and she's giving me first crack at buying it." He opened his mouth, and shut it again when she held up her hand. "And please don't offer to lend me the money. We don't know each other well enough yet."

No, Justin hadn't been about to offer her money. That would've been weird and stupid. Instead, he powered up his phone, and scrolled his contact list. "I _can_ give you the name of my loan officer at the bank. It can't hurt to talk to him."

"He's not an ex-boyfriend, is he?"

"Strictly business." Pleased that Rey had at least taken the number, Justin pocketed his phone after checking the time. "Sorry to cut this short. I have to be at the club early tomorrow."

Rey pulled a set of keys from her pocket, using the fob to unlock the doors. "You don't have to make excuses, Justin. If you're ready to end the date, just say so."

"One, it's not an excuse. We have a reception in the private dining room tomorrow night. One hundred people, all vegans, if you can believe that. Have to remove all the animal products. I'm just lucky I didn't go with the leather seats." She smiled again, and for a nanosecond, Justin wanted to go against Clint's advice and ask if she would spend the night with him. Then, his common sense, and the look of disappointment he'd get from Natasha's friend stopped him, because somehow, Clint would know.

"And two?"

Truth was always best, according to Grams. "I don't _want_ it to end. Not yet."

"How about a compromise?"

She didn't wait for him to take the initiative. Rey moved into his personal space, pressed her body against his, wrapped her small hands around his neck, and tilted her head back. Justin accepted the offer, and kissed her. Again, he heard Clint's voice in his head about the good night kiss. _No tonsil hockey_. He mentally told the voice to shut the hell up, and went for it. Rey's firm, womanly curves fit against his almost perfectly. Her hands delved into his hair, grown out some since the exhibit dedication, making his scalp tingle. His hands slid up and down her back, bringing her even closer. And when he felt himself losing control, he backed off, separating their mouths, and touching his forehead to hers.

They shared a sheepish laugh. Justin gave her one last brief kiss, and let her go. She got in her car, and he waited until she'd driven off to do the same. He started the engine, shifted into gear, and pulled out into traffic, coming to a stop at the light, and smacking his hand against the steering wheel. "****! Now I need a cold shower."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

A small snort of humor came before Natasha whispered the translation in Bruce's ear, German accent and all.

 _The subject is showing great promise. He has already lasted longer than any of the others_.

Bruce nodded. "Continue in English, James."

His voice changed, indicating a different speaker, and included an accent. "Yes. He is tolerating the injections quite well. Let him sleep, and we'll continue the procedure in four hours."

"What do they look like?"

Again, his forehead creased. "One is tall, dark hair, skinny. The other is short, paunchy, glasses, chrome-dome. Acts like the Big Cheese."

Again Natasha touched Bruce's shoulder, mouthing _Zola_. He agreed. "How do you feel now, James?"

"Like I've been on a three-day bender." Bucky snickered. "Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557421." He trailed off, and closed his eyes. "They're coming back. I'm pretendin' to be asleep."

"What about the hypnosis?"

Bucky twitched his shoulders, and frowned. "Guy in a suit comes in every time that chrome-dome leaves. Says we're gonna talk, but I never 'member what we talked about."

An impatient nudge on his arm told him Natasha wanted this to all be over. "We're almost done, James. Close the book, set it aside, and pick up the notebook. Now open it. On the first few pages you will see a list of names, places and dates. These are people the voice told you to… sanction." Bucky began to get agitated, and Bruce rushed to calm him. "Also in front of you is an eraser. Pick it up." His charge did so. "Erase everything on those pages, James. Make sure that not a speck remains. As you do this, you will also be erasing from your memory anything to do with these events. If you remember anything, it will be as a news report. When you're done, throw the book away."

Bruce looked up when Natasha touched him on the shoulder, and smiled comfortingly.

The "notebook" hit the imaginary trashcan as though Bucky were sinking a basket, and waited patiently for Bruce to speak again.

They were almost done. All Bruce had left to remove was the song, and the wolf triggers. Then Natasha whispered in his ear. He nodded, and went back to work. "James, there's a song that acts as a trigger to activate you as a secret assassin. What's the name?"

" _Is You Is, Or Is You Ain't My Baby_. Nat "King" Cole and Ida James."

The door opened again, and Steve came to stand on Bruce's other side. He leaned down to whisper in Bruce's ear, an idea for how to mark the song in his mind. "From now on, James, the only emotion this song will evoke is nostalgia. It was your favorite song the year it came out because it reminds you of a girl from high school, a redhead by the name of Delores. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"And going forward, whenever you see the wolf, you'll remember only that it was a gift from your family while you were in the hospital." Bruce glanced at Natasha, and Steve, holding up his right hand, fingers crossed. "James, are there any other items the voice implanted in your mind? That it told you to do?"

"Yes."

"What did the voice say?"

Bucky shifted in his seat, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth, his blue eyes saddened. "To go to the cabin with the family instead of staying home with Connie like I'd planned."

Stunned, the three friends looked at each other. "Do you know why?"

Bucky's mouth opened, and his breathing sped up. "So the Asset-in-training could sanction her."

 **TBC**

The Alma J. Finkelstein Memorial Park in Washington D.C. is a figment of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to another park in the area is coincidental.

 _Green Eye Poem_ was written by Ray Hansell.

If the German isn't grammatically correct, blame Google Translate.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 34**

Steve had been standing with his arms crossed. He inhaled hard, turned and looked at the camera. Hill was watching, and would already have Klein, or one of the other techs, working on it. He knew the people who had manipulated Bucky all these years were cruel on a level equal to that of HYDRA, but having his friend's wife killed was an all-time low, even for them.

HYDRA had died with Schmidt, and yet, somehow, another enemy had taken their place. What did they call themselves? What were their goals? And why would they use _Bucky_ to do their dirty work? He said there was a new Asset, telling Steve there never was just one. How many Assets were there?

All good questions, and the only way to get answers was to find out who they were. Touching Bruce on the shoulder, Steve pointed his chin at Bucky.

Bruce nodded understanding. "James, why would they have your wife killed?"

"She was in the way."

Bruce pushed his glasses back up his nose from where they slid down. "Of what, James?"

Again, he seemed hesitant to answer. He picked up the wolf, and hugged it. "Their plans."

"Do you know what their ultimate goals are?"

"No."

Over Bruce's head, Steve watched for Natasha's reaction. And just like while they were discussing how to stop Loki, she stared straight ahead, arms crossed, only her eyes and chest moving. Both men knew her well enough by now to understand her body language. Bruce asked the question on all their minds. "Who are they? What do they call themselves?"

Bucky inhaled deeply, exhaled, and inhaled again. "I don't know."

"They never told you?"

"No." Unlike in the past, and earlier, Bucky initiated speech without being prompted. Unless he was simply continuing with the previous request. "Steve Rogers is a HYDRA agent. Recruited before his first attempt to enlist in 1941." Obviously agitated at the thought, Bucky squeezed the wolf tighter. "His mother, Sarah was physically abused by her husband, Joseph, while pregnant with Steve. In our senior year of high school, Steve cheated on his final exams. In 1941, he went to jail for assault."

Bruce shot him a questioning look. Stunned, Steve barely noticed when Natasha gripped his arm. Slowly, he looked down at her holding the tablet.

* _?_ *

He typed a response. ** _No! Never heard of HYDRA until the day Dr. Erskine died_.**

* _Mom?_ *

** _Dad shipped out four months before I was born. He was killed in Europe. Exposure to mustard gas. Mom only ever talked about how loving and kind he was. Never said a word against him. Always said he was her one true love. That's why she never remarried. No other man could ever live up to Dad's memory. None of it's true. Nothing._ ** A brief moment of guilt flashed in his eyes. Natasha was right. He was a terrible liar. Taking a deep breath, Steve confessed, ** _Okay. The jail part is true. I spent three days in the Bronx lock-up for starting a bar fight.**_

Bruce reclaimed the tablet just as it beeped, and he held it up for Steve and Natasha to read. According to the ME, and verified by SHIELD's doctors, Connie had died from a stroke just as they'd been told. However, one piece of information that hadn't been revealed was that there had been mottling in the postmortem lividity that suggested she hadn't died in her sleep as was stated in the official record. According to Dr. Toledano, she died while lying on carpeting, most likely the living room, if Steve had to guess. This new Asset had to have arrived after the fact, and placed her where she'd been found. Such an act showed an emotional connection, or remorse. Two reactions he didn't associate with this new threat.

Giving Bucky his full attention again, Bruce saw that he hadn't moved in the interim. "James, do you remember what I told you earlier about the voice? Repeat it."

Bucky made a slow nod. "Everything the voice said was a lie."

"Yes. Connie died of natural causes. Steve has never been a HYDRA agent, nor was his mother abused by his father. Steve didn't cheat on his exams. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Steve looked over Bruce's shoulder at the tablet, reading the info on Connie's death. "I'm going to count down from five to one. When the count reaches one, you will be wide awake, fully alert, and completely refreshed. You will _not_ remember being the Asset, or the crimes committed during that time. You will remember you were brought to the helicarrier for testing due to headaches, sleepwalking, and memory lapses. You will also remember the events that have transpired since then; your fights with Steve and Clint Barton, and the reason behind them. Most importantly, remember that you and Natasha love one another. You want to make a life together, and she would _never_ betray you. Five… Four… Three…Two… One…"

 **3s & 8s Productions**

 **Falls Church, Virginia**

Due to the overwhelming response from the test audiences, Bella and Laz made the unusual decision to use Frank, Joi and Elyse in a variety of ways on the show, with one, two or all three hosting. It was understood that each had a business to run, and that should come first.

After they'd gotten to know each other better, Joi and her friends discovered that Bella and Laz weren't as stuck up and stuffy as their first impression implied. On the other hand, they were ruthless in business, having built their empire from the ground up, starting with producing various genres of shows for local cable stations. From there, they moved to local affiliates, and syndication, until they found their niche with the Culinary Channel.

The couple wanted their stars in on all aspects of the show, including hiring the stage band. And that's how Joi found herself sitting behind a table with her co-stars and the producers, smiling, and nodding in time to the music. Certain that she would soon start bleeding from the ears, Joi sat on her hands to keep from doing something that would insult their guests.

The band, if you could call it that, was made up of four older men playing the ukulele, and one woman the same age playing a variety of percussion instruments, including a cowbell. Every time she hit it with the drumstick, Joi mentally cringed.

She felt a tap on her thigh, and looked down. Frank held his phone so she could see the display. _I am losing the will to live._

 _*Ditto_. _Please say it'll be over soon.*_

 _It'll be over soon_.

Joi brightened. * _Really?_ *

Frank shrugged an apology. _Nope_.

Elyse leaned into their conversation, whispering, "Either of you have a pencil? The sharper the better."

Frank handed her the extra one from the end of the table, spying one in her hand. "You already have one."

"Need a fresh one. I'm writing a death poem."

Taken aback, Joi barely kept from shouting, "What?! Why?"

"Because, if this doesn't end soon, I'm committing _hara-kiri_." She waved a finger between Joi and Frank. "I need a _kaishakunin_. Any volunteers?"

"God, no! Get back in your seat." To Frank, she said, "Keep her away from anything sharp."

Thankfully, the band cut their final song short. As their spokesman, Laz smiled genially, and on him, it looked genuine. "Thank you so much. That was an unusual rendition of _American Pie_. We have a few more groups to audition, and will be making a decision in the next couple of weeks."

The band members gathered their equipment, and exited stage left. Moments later, Bella stuck her head through the curtains at stage right. "Are they gone?" Laz waved her in. "Thank _God_." She took her place next to her husband, turning her left wrist over to check the time. "That was the last one for the day. What say we change, and meet at the Buena Noche Grill on Main Street in an hour for fajitas and margaritas?"

As if they'd practiced it, Joi, Elyse, and Frank said, "I'm in."

 **SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **Quantico**

"Stop," Bucky whispered, and the monitor went black. He turned his back, too embarrassed to even look at Natasha, Steve, or Bruce.

"We understand how you feel, James," Natasha whispered.

He whipped around, angry at what he perceived as Natasha's attempt to minimize his humiliation, to make it seem less important than someone else's feelings. "Do you? Really? That quack Heath and the one before him spent _years_ manipulating me. Implanted false memories, and who knows what else. And for what?" He spread his arms out to the side and let them fall to slap against his thighs as he paced the confines of his cell. "We have no idea why they were doing it, or what they hoped to accomplish. My mind was _raped_ by these people, and there's no way to make them pay for what they've done."

Steve glanced at Natasha, and moved closer to the force field. "They're dead, Bucky. I'd say they paid with their lives."

Again, Bucky turned around, one hand on his hip and the other emphasizing his words. "No-no-no. They got off _way_ too easy. A fitting punishment would've been for them to experience what I went through, and be fully cognizant of the fact without being able to stop it." He shook his head. "Or I could've just beaten them senseless."

He faced the wall again, and Natasha took a moment to exchange pained glances with Bruce and Steve.

Laughing humorlessly, Bucky dropped wearily on the side of the bed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "And the worst part is now I really do need therapy, but there's no ******* way in _hell_ I'm letting another shrink anywhere near my psyche."

Bruce crossed his arms, the tablet held against his chest. "I know you don't want to hear this, James, but we need to perform a couple of experiments, just to be certain that the triggers were removed."

Bucky covered his face with both hands, exhaled loudly, and pushed them through his hair. " _Fine_. But don't tell me what they are. Just _do_ it."

~~O~~

Resigned, Bucky stood up, roaming around the enclosure in a random pattern. From the look on his face, fear, mixed with determination, he was certain he'd have another incident, and maybe this time he wouldn't come back from it. Or maybe he didn't _want_ to come back, if he had to live with the memory of the things that had been done to him. Then he thought about his family, friends, and Natasha, and knew he had to find a way to go on.

Natasha put her hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Wait a moment, Bruce, please." She moved to within a few inches of the force field. After a moment's thought, Bucky reluctantly joined her. As they'd done while he was in the Hulk chamber, she placed her hand against the field, pressing until the tingle edged against pain. One side of her mouth turned up in an affectionate smile she knew he couldn't resist. "Looking forward to you asking that question again, _lyubimaya moy_."

Bucky turned both hands over, staring at the palms. Then he took one more step closer, mirroring her. Both sides of the field crackled and sparked. He returned her smile. "And I'm ready to ask it again. I think."

Behind her, Bruce cleared his throat to remind them they weren't alone. Natasha went to stand next to Steve.

~~O~~

The music flowed out of the speakers, and Bucky tilted his head to the side, the smile of affection changed to one of wistfulness at the sound of Nat "King" Cole's husky tenor. Then Ida James added her soprano, and he sang along.

 _Is you is or is you ain't my baby?  
The way you're acting lately makes me doubt  
You'se is still my baby, baby  
Or has my flame in your heart done gone out_

Bucky chuckled, and turned to Steve. "This song reminds me of that redhead from Miss Gillett's literature class. Her name was…" He snapped his fingers.

"Delores."

"Right. Man, I had a crush on her for most of the school year, till she moved away."

Crossing his arms, Steve shared Bucky's good humor. "I remember. You called her Dot. Never knew why."

Bucky's blue eyes flicked to Natasha and back. Lowering his voice, he touched a spot behind his right ear. "Because she had a little circle of freckles right here."

"And you know this how?"

With a sheepish grin, Bucky winked, and shrugged.

Bruce stepped into their space, one hand behind his back. "Moving on, guys. This is the real test, James. It will tell us if I was able to remove the main triggers."

"Hit me, Bruce. Tired of waiting. I gotta be out of here in time for Gracie's birthday party in two weeks. Can't disappoint a four-year-old."

When Bruce's hand appeared, it was holding a stuffed animal. Looking closer, Bucky saw that it was a ridiculous looking wolf. "Where'd you get _that_ thing? It's hideous."

Taking a few steps closer to the field, Bruce held it out. "James, do you want to see the wolf?"

"Not especially. Where'd it come from?"

"A get well gift from your grandchildren. Joi asked me to give it to you." Bruce looked into the camera hidden in the corner, and nodded.

The force field came down, disappearing with a _zzzt_. Not certain he believed he was truly free, Bucky reached out with one hand as he stepped down to their level. "Is that it?"

"Looks like it. We'll make a few tests just to be sure. Blood work, et cetera. But we can do that later."

Closing his eyes briefly, he basked in the knowledge that the nightmare was all over. He clenched his fists in triumph. "Sonofa****! It worked! Bruce, you're a miracle worker."

Before Bruce could take steps to avoid it, Bucky had him in a bear hug. Bucky then turned his attention to Steve, the two friends giving each other a back-slapping hug.

A small hand touched his cheek, and suddenly, Natasha was in his arms. He hugged her tight, thrilled to be able to touch her again. She framed his face with her palms, and leaned in to kiss him.

~~O~~

Steve and Bruce shared pleased expressions. Bucky and Natasha were kissing as if they'd never stop. Bruce turned to the camera and made a slashing motion across his throat. The little red light went out, and he and Steve quietly left the couple alone.

In the hall, Steve held out his fist, and Bruce tapped it with his.

~~O~~

"You should get dressed."

Natasha's voice was slightly muffled due to Bucky holding her against him, resting his cheek on the top of her head. In response to her comment, he tightened his arms. "I was thinking we should get _undressed_."

Tilting her head back, Natasha smiled up at him. "I just want to go home, James. Get away from this place, and not have to think about all the horrible things that were done to you. For a while, at least."

"Me too. I'll probably have nightmares for months." Bucky leaned back, his hands on her arms near the shoulders, lightly rubbing up and down.

Natasha rubbed her palms over his chest up to his shoulders. "You'll need lots of TLC, of course."

"Naturally."

They were about to kiss again, when someone knocked on the door. Natasha went to open it, and accepted a bag from the guard. She tossed it to Bucky, and he caught it in one hand. "Your clothes, _lyubimaya_. There's a quinjet waiting to take us to the mainland. I have your SUV, if you want to drive."

He pulled the scrub top off over his head and tossed it on the bed, speaking as he shoved his head and arms into his t-shirt. "Not really. I've been meaning to ask. How did I get here? Don't remember a thing from that night."

"Long story. And part of it should be told by Mia."

" _Mia_? How is _she_ involved?" Bucky turned his back to the camera to put on his boxers and pants.

Natasha grinned wryly, and handed him his socks and shoes. He sat on the side of the bed to put them on, handing her the stuffed wolf.

"As I said, long story. One that's not known to the entire family, by the way. It's best if we tell it all at once so it makes sense." Soon, he joined her in the hall, and she led the way to the deck. "I went home to check on the repairs."

"Your friend Clint did the work?"

"Mm-hm. The kids pitched in. Chase wasn't there when it happened, but you know Justin doesn't keep secrets from his twin. He worked from the den in between helping. I insisted that Mia continue with her studies. Collin and Serenity took a short leave from work, and Joi came around when she could."

They entered the quinjet, the ramp closed, and they sat in the jump seats as it took off. Because they weren't alone, they didn't talk. At the private airport where the pilot dropped them off, Bucky buckled himself into the front passenger seat while Natasha drove. "How much do I owe Clint for the work?"

"He did it as a favor, and would be insulted if you offered him money. Make a donation in your own name to a charitable organization like the Wounded Warrior Project, Alzheimer's research, or The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, and he'll be _your_ BFF too."

In the past, when Natasha mentioned Clint as her best friend, Bucky always had a pang of jealousy, especially when they went on a mission together, or she recounted some humorous incident in which they'd both been involved. But now… something had changed, and he looked forward to meeting him.

Bucky closed his eyes, and let his head fall against the headrest. He jerked awake when the SUV's engine cut off, not even realizing he'd fallen asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he unbuckled and got out. Natasha waited for him at the edge of the driveway, taking his hand. That's when he noticed all the cars parked in the driveway, in front of the house, and across the street. "What's going on?"

Natasha looked him as if he were seeing things. "Nothing. Why?"

As they approached the front door, Bucky heard music, laughter, and voices, all mingling together. Normally, the sound energized him because it meant he would have his friends and family around him to stave off the loneliness. But that hadn't been a problem since Natasha had come into his life. Now, all he wanted to do was take a hot shower, and get into bed with the woman he loved.

As soon as the door opened, Gracie came running. "Papa!"

He picked her up and hugged her close, taking in her little girl smell. "How's my girl?"

"I'm glad you're home so's you can come to my birfday party."

"I wouldn't miss it, baby girl." Casting an eye over the room, he saw his kids, most of their kids, a few friends, and at least two strangers. To Natasha, he whispered, "What is all this?"

She took Gracie from him, and put her on the floor. The child ran down the hall to the living room calling out that Papa was home. Soon, he was being dragged to the living room decorated with two signs. One said, "Congratulations!" and the other declared, "Welcome home!"

All kinds of food filled the dining room table, and in the center sat a beautifully made cake.

 _Congratulations Joi, Elyse, and Frank_ was written on the right side, with _Welcome home, Gramps_ on the left.

To Natasha, he said, "If Joi won, who are Frank and Elyse?"

Just then, Joi came into the dining room, and grabbed him in a tight hug. "Oh, you're home! I have so much to tell you." Over her head, Bucky saw the two strangers lingering in the doorway. Joi motioned them over. "Gramps, this is Elyse DeWitt, and you remember Frank Vitale. Guys, this is my grandfather, James Barnes."

Bucky smiled as he shook hands with the woman, turning it into a scowl for the man. "I remember he was extremely _rude_. Why is he _here_?"

"After the show ended, we were approached by producers for the Culinary Channel. They want us to host a sort of anthology cooking show."

Frank had the good grace to show remorse. "I hope you'll give me a chance to change your poor first impression of me, Mr. Barnes."

Exchanging glances with Joi, and Natasha, Bucky grudgingly gave in. "We'll see. And call me James."

Carolyn swept through the room, casting a critical eye over everything in her path until she saw her father, and her face lit up. "Dad! I didn't hear you come in." They hugged. "How was the tour?"

"Exhausting, but I'm glad to be home." _So true_ , he thought.

"Gramps!" a pair of young male voices called out just before Justin and Chase were pulled into Bucky's embrace.

The young men kissed him on opposite cheeks, and he released them. "What've you been up to?"

Justin opened his mouth, and closed it again, rolling his eyes when Chase blurted out, "He's seeing someone."

"It's about time. What's his name?"

Again, Carolyn overrode everyone. "It's not a guy, Dad. Justin's dating a _girl_."

Confused, Bucky pointed at him. "But I thought you were…"

Justin shoved his hands in his pockets with a sheepish grin. "So did I."

"He won't talk about her," Carolyn put in. "Says he doesn't want to jinx it."

Chase poked Justin with an elbow. "She's probably a trans."

His twin rolled his eyes. "She's _not_ a trans, little brother."

"Oh? And how do you know?"

Justin's usual confidence came back. He gave them all a cheeky grin, one eyebrow arched.

The brothers got into a friendly shoving match, with Justin eventually trapping Chase in a headlock, and giving him noogies. Carolyn stepped in, lightly slapping them on the shoulders. "We have _guests_. Honestly, you act like you're twelve years old."

~~O~~

It took a couple hours, but eventually, Natasha and Bucky had the house to themselves. Well, them and the cats. After a long hot shower, Bucky put on his pajamas, and without waiting for Natasha, he climbed into bed.

He was about to doze off when he felt a single cat jump on the foot of the bed, and walk up the side. A fuzzy paw tentatively touched his cheek. Bucky opened his eyes, surprised to see Ryder. "Hey, boy. You miss me?"

The cat head-booped his chin, adding a meow on the end. Bucky rubbed his ears, and for the first time since he'd come to live with them, Ryder purred.

~~O~~

Man and cat were sound asleep when Natasha joined them hours later. She watched him sleeping while changing into her pajamas. Bucky had fallen asleep on the ride home, but the moment he was swept into the loving embrace of his family, that tiredness disappeared. Hopefully, one day all the members of Bucky's family would treat her with the same love and affection they showed him.

She barely remembered what it was like to have family aside from Clint, Laura, and the kids. The love she had for the Bartons was as real as it gets. It just wasn't the same as having one that was yours alone.

Natasha lifted the covers, and slid in next to Bucky. And like a morning glory turns toward the sun, he snuggled close, wrapping her in his arms, and sighing against her neck. She touched his cheek. "James? Bucky?"

His voice warm and sleep filled, he mumbled, "Hmm?"

"Marry me."

Bucky pulled her closer, and heaved a deep sigh. "Mm-hmm. We'll go to Las Vegas."

Ryder poked his head up from where he was curled next to Bucky's pillow, meowed, and went back to sleep just as the rest of the cats joined them.

 **TBC**

 _Hara-kiri_ = Seppuku ("stomach- or abdomen-cutting") or hara-kiri ("cutting the belly", sometimes metathesized in English as "hari-kari") is a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment. It was originally reserved for samurai. Part of the samurai bushido honor code, seppuku was used either voluntarily by samurai to die with honor rather than fall into the hands of their enemies (and likely suffer torture) or as a form of capital punishment for samurai who had committed serious offenses, or performed because they had brought shame to themselves. The ceremonial disembowelment, which is usually part of a more elaborate ritual and performed in front of spectators, consists of plunging a short blade, traditionally a tantō, into the abdomen and drawing the blade from left to right, slicing the abdomen open.

During the Edo Period (1600–1867), carrying out seppuku came to involve a detailed ritual. This was usually performed in front of spectators, if it was a planned seppuku, not one performed on a battlefield. A samurai was bathed, dressed in white robes, and served his favorite foods for a last meal. When he had finished, the knife and cloth was placed on another sanbo and given to the warrior. Dressed ceremonially, with his sword placed in front of him and sometimes seated on special clothes, the warrior would prepare for death by writing a death poem.

 _Kaishakunin_ = A _kaishakunin_ is an appointed second whose duty is to behead one who has committed seppuku, Japanese ritual suicide, at the moment of agony. The role played by the _kaishakunin_ is called _kaishaku_ ( _nin_ means person).

Tantō = A tantō ("short blade") is one of the traditionally made Japanese swords ( _nihonto_ ) that were worn by the samurai class of feudal Japan.

 _American Pie_ is a song by American folk rock singer and songwriter Don McLean. It was recorded and released November 1971.

The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC) is a private, non-profit organization established in 1984 by the United States Congress. The NCMEC was spurred by notable child abductions, such as the 1979 abduction of six-year-old Etan Patz from New York City, and the 1981 abduction and murder of six-year-old Adam Walsh from a shopping mall in Hollywood, Florida. Because police had the ability to record and track information about stolen cars, stolen guns, and even stolen horses with the FBI's national crime computer, it was believed that the same should be done with children. In 1984, the U.S. Congress passed the Missing Children's Assistance Act, which established a National Resource Center and Clearinghouse on Missing & Exploited Children. On June 13, 1984, the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children was formed by President Ronald Reagan in a White House ceremony to maintain those resources. The national 24-hour toll-free missing children's hotline 1-800-THE-LOST was also established.

3s and 8s is CB slang for Love and Kisses.

FYI - The author plays the ukulele. Not well, but she plays.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 35**

 **Ten Days Later**

Annoyed, and not above letting everyone know, Steve held a piece of clothing up in front of him while Bucky looked it over, shaking his head. "Not a good color for you. Try that one."

Bucky pointed, and turned back to the mirror, switching head gear. He tilted it back and forth, huffed and exchanged it for another.

Steve exhaled loudly as he examined the clothing his friend suggested, still not happy with the situation. "How did I let you talk me into this, Buck?"

" _I_ didn't. _Gracie_ did." Bucky adjusted the headgear, turning his head side to side. Huffing, he went onto the next one, holding it out. "What about this?" Rolling his eyes, Steve sorted through the offerings until he found one he thought would work, and handed it to Bucky, who put it on. "Perfect! You have a good eye, Steve. Face it, pal. That little girl has us both wrapped around her finger."

What could Steve say? Bucky was right. Steve sorted through the headgear, pulling out two he found acceptable. He tried on one then the other, settling on the second one, and adding it to the pile of clothing and other items they'd chosen.

A forty-ish Asian woman dressed in Goth-style clothing, sporting several piercings, and tattoos, appeared in the mirror behind them. "How's it goin', guys? Make a decision yet?"

The first time he saw her, Steve couldn't help staring. She didn't seem to be insulted. Just smiled and led them to the section of the store that carried the items they needed.

"We did." He passed over his credit card, along with a business card, gracing her with one of his most charming smiles that Steve had seen him use on women of all ages. "Could you have it delivered to this address by Friday at the latest?"

"No problemo, fellas. Leave it to moi." She patted each on the cheek as she passed between them. "Amethyst will take good care of you."

On the way to the parking lot, Steve broached a sensitive subject. "When are you and Nat getting married?"

Bucky used the fob to open the doors before answering. "We've decided to wait a bit. We were going to fly to Vegas, but she wants the family to be there. Something small, in the back yard."

They got in, buckled up, the engine revved, and Bucky pulled into traffic, Steve watching him from the corner of his eye. "Finally wore her down, huh?"

A snort came from his friend as he made a right turn and got onto the highway. " _She_ asked _me_. Unfortunately, I was asleep at the time so she asked again after breakfast."

Steve nodded. "I asked Joi to marry me." He held up a hand to stop his friend's words of congratulations. "What is it with women these days? Don't they _want_ to get married?"

"Not like in our day, Stevie. Women aren't as dependent on men as they used to be. Personally, I find it refreshing. Women get into a relationship with you because they care about _you_ , not because they want a family, or are looking for security." Bucky exited the freeway, and turned onto the street that would take them back to his house. "Any ideas for the bachelor party?"

"Not really. Do you want strippers, and, um…"

Bucky snorted. "Lap dances? I'd rather go see a baseball game, or play paintball, something like that."

"The point is moot anyway since you haven't settled on a date."

"We can't do that until Nat knows when her 'maid' of honor can be there."

Steve looked over at Bucky, searching for any trace of his former jealousy regarding the archer, and saw none. "Fair warning. Clint is an acquired taste. I think you'll like him though."

"I already do. Those repairs he made were perfect. No one could tell there'd been a problem."

"He's also one of the best people to have your back in a fight."

Bucky pulled into the driveway, and parked next to Natasha's car just as Justin came out the front door. "Where you headed, pal?"

Justin ran his fingers through the sides of his hair, now down to his shoulders, and grinned. "Got a date." He kissed Bucky on the cheek. "Don't wait up."

"I'm beginning to think this Rey person is a figment of your imagination."

The young man tossed his keys in the air and caught them. "Oh, she's very real, Gramps. She's just not ready for," he waved a hand indicating the entire family, "this. Don't want to scare her off."

"Maybe by the time Natasha and I get married, she'll be ready."

Shaking his head, Justin headed for his SUV. "Don't want her to get ideas either. See ya!" He got in, started the engine, and waved as he drove away.

Crossing his arms, Bucky sighed. "Three down, one to go. Well, three. Chase, Mia, and Nicole."

"I've been wondering… Where's Gracie's dad?"

"In a test tube." Bucky headed for the house with Steve on his six. "Nicole was artificially inseminated."

Momentarily at a loss, Steve closed the front door behind him, and followed Bucky into the den. "I didn't know they could do that."

"Yeah. Used to be the thing was having sex without making babies. Now it's making babies without having sex. Not an improvement, in my opinion."

And Steve didn't disagree with him. He just didn't say so out loud.

 **The Following Saturday Afternoon**

 **Gracie's Birthday Party**

"Turn around." Steve did as Bucky commanded, finally resigned to the inevitable. His friend pulled up the zipper, and waited for Steve to do the same for him. They stood side by side in front of the full length mirror in the corner of Bucky's bedroom. Though he thought he looked ridiculous, Steve came to the conclusion that his friend had been right all along. Gracie had all the men in the family wrapped around her tiny little pinky finger. And what's more, they knew it and didn't care. It would be the same with his own child, especially a daughter, if he was lucky enough to have one.

"Here." Bucky handed him a circle of silver with pink and white stones to match the shocking pink floor length gown edged in white around the neckline. The solid pink alternated with panels of a lighter shade with star shapes all over it.

Steve put the tiara on, adjusted how it sat on his head, and put on a pair of clip-on earrings while Bucky fastened a necklace around his neck. The heavy pendant hit him barely three inches below his Adam's apple. He moved it around, but couldn't find a comfortable place for it to lie. "How do women _do_ this every day?"

"I was married for over sixty years, have two daughters, grand- and great granddaughters, Natasha, and any number of female friends, and I _still_ have no idea how women do half the things they do on a daily basis." Bucky fiddled with his dangly silver and white earrings that matched the silver necklace, and tiara. "Not just hair, make-up, clothes, what have you. There's all that stuff they do in the bath."

"I'm just beginning to find out. Once, I was at Joi's. Said she was going to take a bath. Didn't come out for over an hour. When _I_ take a bath, it's a shower. In and out, under ten minutes, unless I shave. So, twenty minutes, tops. What did she _do_ in there all that time?"

Shaking his head, Bucky sat down to put on his sneakers. "Made the mistake of asking once." He shuddered. "Trust me, Stevie. You do _not_ want to know."

Bucky got to his feet, and faced the mirror again, adjusting the way his ice blue gown set on his hips, and straightening the material over his flat chest. "I wanted that strapless blue-green gown-the first one you tried on-because it matched my eyes, but I've got nothing to hold it up." Reaching behind, he pulled the sheer star-studded train loose from where it had caught on the chair arm. "Ready?"

Huffing, Steve twitched his shoulders. " _How_ did you talk me into this again?"

"Does it matter?" Bucky stuck a silver with white rhinestones crown on his head. "Let's go. We're already late."

"Once more into the breach, dear friend?" With a grin, Bucky opened the door, and followed Steve out. At the top of the stairs, Steve turned to him. "You know, blue really brings out that bit of grey in your eyes, Barnes."

Resisting the urge to shove his best friend over the railing, Bucky headed down the stairs. "And _I_ never realized how hairy your legs were, Rogers. You should've waxed."

"Waxed?"

"Yeah. It's a method of hair removal. What they do is warm this wax especially made for use on human skin, spread it over the area to be waxed, the legs usually, press a waxing strip over it, and rip it off. Saw it done in person once. Never again."

Steve winced. "Sounds painful."

"It _is_. What I don't get is some women not only do their legs, but their eyebrows, upper lip, and chin." Looking around, Bucky leaned close, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Some even have it done…" He nodded, and Steve winced again.

Shuddering, Steve waved the hand holding a short scepter with a silver star on the end. "And they do this all the time?"

"Every few weeks."

As they approached the back door, they could hear the squeal of little girl voices outside. Gracie ran by with a dozen girls her approximate age, all dressed like princesses, waving their wands, and twirling until they fell down.

"Women are _insane_. Why would they do that more than once?"

"Because they think we _want_ them too." Bucky adjusted the set of his tiara, squinting at Steve. "Are you growing a beard, Rogers, or did you forget to wash your face? And how long has it been since you cut your hair?"

Steve huffed at him, and brushed a hand through his hair. He'd let it grow out, and it was now down below his ears, wore in a sixties style. "Trying something new. Is that a crime?"

"Nope. So, you ready for this?"

"No. Let's just _do_ it."

Bucky opened the back door, and stepped out. Steve followed, relieved to see that he and his friend weren't the only men dressed as princesses. In his opinion, he and Bucky carried off the look better than the others.

"Steve!"

Gracie ran to him, and he scooped her into his arms. "How's my best girl? Having fun?"

"Uh-huh." She poked his chest and held out the skirt of her dress. "Look. We match." Her arms went around his neck, squeezing tight. "I wuv you, Steve."

At this moment, Steve's misgivings about the day vanished, and all because of a four-year-old girl. "I love you too, Gracie."

She reached out, and Steve handed her over to Bucky. His attention was diverted when Joi came into sight, one hand holding up the hem of her dress as she easily avoided the girls, and toys strewn in the grass. As she came near, her smile widened. "We should've coordinated our outfits."

Steve looked down at his hot pink gown. "We do kind of clash. You look lovely, by the way."

A twinkle of humor made her green eyes sparkle. "So do you."

Extending his arm, Joi tucked her gloved hand around it. He escorted her to one of the adult picnic tables, marveling at the ease with which she moved in the strange clothing. Her dress was the color of a sunflower, bright yellow, with gathers all the way around. The sleeves were off the shoulder, and she wore matching elbow length gloves.

Carolyn came by with glasses of lemonade. They saluted each other, and drank.

~~O~~

Bucky watched Natasha and Carolyn together, amazed that his oldest child had finally accepted their relationship, and had even gotten to know the woman he was going to marry. Mia joined them, Natasha and Carolyn spreading the tablecloth, and holding it down while Mia attached clips to keep the wind from blowing it away.

He watched Natasha moving with a grace and elegance that left him as breathless now as it had the day they met. Today, she'd come dressed as Princess Merida from the animated movie _Brave_. The long turquoise gown played off her red hair making both seem brighter and more vibrant. She had a small plastic bow and a quiver of nerf arrows on her back, the bands crossing her chest.

As he approached, Natasha looked up and smiled. Not as if she were trying not to laugh, but in that sweet, affectionate way she had. The one she would send him from across the room when they were spending time with friends and family. "You look great, James."

"So do you."

Mia came to kiss him on the cheek. She was in a bright green strapless dress that stopped at mid-thigh, the uneven hem flirting with the freckles on her fair skin. Her short blonde hair was left down, and a pair of sparkling white wings sprouted from her back. "Glad you're here, Gramps. Ready to have some fun?"

"Absolutely, Tinker Bell. Where're your cousins?"

"Chase has to work. Personally, I think he just didn't want to get dressed up."

Mia's eyes danced with humor as she pointed over Bucky's shoulder. "Here comes Chase's other half."

Bucky turned around just as Justin came through the side gate. He was dressed in a turquoise "genie" outfit. The sleeves of the midriff top were a lighter shade, and sheer, as was the skirt-like layer that covered his hips and backside. The ankles were gathered, and his feet were bare. He'd donned a long dark wig, and headband with a purple stone on the forehead. Bucky recognized it as the character Jasmine from the animated movie _Aladdin_. But Justin went Jasmine one better by sticking a purple gem in his navel. Bucky pointed his wand at his grandson. "Look at you, rockin' the _I Dream of Jeannie_ threads."

"Couldn't miss the munchkin's birthday party. She gave me a _personal_ invite."

"She invited _everyone_ personally. Including the guy behind the deli counter at Discount Mart."

The trio chuckled, and glanced over to where Natasha and Carolyn were talking and laughing together like old friends, just as Serenity joined the guys. She saw where they were looking, and smiled. _Mom sure has changed her tune since the two of you got engaged, Gramps_.

Sighing, Bucky shrugged. _Natasha only agreed to marry me if your mom approved_.

Turning his back so no one else would see, Justin signed _As long as you_ _do_ _get married_.

Serenity's lips pursed with humor. _Speaking of… What about you and Rey? When do we get to meet her?_

 _If you promise to behave, in a month or so,_ _maybe_ _. She just bought the studio she worked for, so she's been busy_.

Mia stopped Justin by grabbing his hands. _You've never even shown us a picture, J. I don't think she's real_.

Bucky held in a grin when his grandson reached inside his top and pulled out his cell phone. He scrolled the photos until he found the one he wanted, and held it up.

His family stared at the photo of Justin cuddled on the sofa with a beautiful brunette, and a long haired pitch black cat with black whispers. Serenity was the first to speak. _Photoshop_. Justin shrugged a question. _Because she is_ _way_ _out of your league, big brother. The cat too_.

 _Hmph! Now you see why I don't want her to meet you guys. She's already thinks_ _I'm_ _a little weird_.

Before anyone could make a smarta$$ retort, Nicole, dressed in a floaty pink gown, called out, "Time for games! Everyone gather 'round."

 **Rey's Condo**

 **Later That Night**

Waiting beside his SUV, Justin waved good-bye to Rey, only heading home once she'd gone inside her condo and closed the door. Shaking his head in wonder that they hit it off so well, he turned on the radio, and tuned it to a classic radio station that played a variety of music from the 1920's to present. Tapping on the steering wheel in time to the music, he mentally went down the list of items he wanted to take on his business trip to Vancouver.

He was on the highway when the radio cut out, and a text popped up in the middle of Peggy Lee's signature song, _Fever_. Growling in frustration, Justin tapped the screen. The sender's name showed as _Unknown_. He was about to delete the text when he received another. It was followed by another, and another. More. Each text only contained one word. When the texts stopped, Justin cruised down the highway, missed his exit, and kept going.

 **Four Days Later**

Rey pulled a baggy t-shirt over her workout clothes on her way to answer the door. Tip-toeing to look through the peephole, she saw a man and a woman patiently waiting. Their manner screamed _cop_. And not just any cop. These people gave off major detective vibes. Though she'd never been in trouble with the police aside from a few moving violations, she felt nervous. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. "Yes?"

The pair held up their police IDs, giving their names as Foley and Juarez. The man, Foley, returned his ID to the inside pocket of his jacket, and Rey got a brief glimpse of a handgun. "Are you Reya Medina?"

Wary, she answered, "Yes."

"We have a few questions for you. May we come in?"

Rey knew the law well enough. She didn't have to let them in without just cause, or a warrant or something. She hadn't done anything worth having detectives come to her home, so… "Of course." She held the screen door, closing it and the inside door behind them. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Water, iced tea? Or I can make coffee."

The detectives sat side by side on the sofa, Juarez speaking for both of them. "No, thank you. Ms. Medina, do you know a man by the name of Justin Lockwood?"

Taken aback, Rey was momentarily at a loss for words. She sat in the armchair, and cleared her throat. "If you're here asking that question then you already know the answer. We've been dating for a little more than a month. Why?"

Foley spoke next. "Mr. Lockwood was reported missing just over twenty-four hours ago by the manager of his night club when he hadn't heard from him for more that seventy-two hours."

"That's impossible. Justin left a few days ago on a business trip to Vancouver. He's thinking of opening another night club there. He goes at least once a month, and is almost obsessive about keeping in contact with Alex when he's out of town."

The detectives looked at each other, and back to her. "We've checked with the airlines, trains, buses, and car rental agencies. He's never been to Vancouver that we can find. His passport was in his apartment. It hasn't been used since 2010 when he and a group of friends took a backpacking trip to the UK."

"I don't understand. His brother Chase has been a friend of mine for years. He showed me the souvenirs Justin's brought back for the family. T-shirts, snow globes, shot glasses, stuffed animals." Rey gripped the arms of the chair. "Why would he lie? Not only to me, but to his family? They're very close."

Juarez took out a small tablet. "According to our investigation, you were the last person to see Mr. Lockwood before he vanished."

"We went to dinner a few night ago. And no, he didn't stay the night; didn't even come inside. We said good-bye at the door, he got in his SUV, and drove off. That's the last time I saw or heard from him. He hasn't answered any of my texts, but that's not unusual when he's working." Seeing the situation with angry clarity, Reya stood up to let the detectives know the interview was at an end. "Check the security cams. They're all over the complex. You'll see that I didn't go out again until the next morning when I went to the bank to finalize the loan to buy the studio."

Juarez and Foley exchanged another glance, and that angered Reya.

She crossed her arms, her voice dripping ice. "I know what you're thinking. Justin didn't lend me the money. He gave me the name of his loan officer at the bank. I got the loan on my own merits." She stomped to the front door, and jerked it open. "I know my rights. I don't have to answer any more of your questions without an attorney present. I'd like for you to go now."

Foley handed her a business card on the way to the door. "If you think of anything else, give me or Detective Juarez a call."

Rey took the card, but didn't look at it. "And don't leave town? Not a problem. I just bought the studio. Don't have time for trips."

When they'd gone, Rey slammed the door, locked it, and stalked around the living room looking for something to throw. She picked up one of the sofa pillows and hit the arm over and over, until her cat came in, meowing a question. Rey flopped on the sofa, holding the pillow in her arms. The cat crossed the room and jumped up beside her, pawing at her hand. Rey obediently rubbed her ears with one hand while dialing the phone with the other. "Chase? Two detectives were just here… They said Justin's disappeared. Implied _I_ had something to do with it… All those trips to Vancouver… That's what they told me too… I got the usual routine from them… You'll call if you hear anything? … Thanks."

 **Appalachian Trail**

 **Forty-eight Hours Later**

Foley and Juarez watched as the fire department dragged the grey SUV from the ravine onto the narrow road that ran alongside the creek. It wasn't especially deep. Just enough to hide the vehicle from being seen by aircraft flying over. In fact, they only found it because of an anomaly on a satellite photo taken by the ISS making a routine scan of the area.

The driver's door was open, the airbags had deployed, and the front end had sustained considerable damage. Foley pulled on latex gloves, and leaned in to better examine the front seat, shining a flashlight over the interior with special attention to the red spots and smears that looked like blood.

Juarez opened the rear passenger door on the opposite side, using her flashlight to peer into the hatch and the back seat.

The CSU team had already cleared the SUV, and were examining the surrounding area, taking photos, collecting samples, specimens, and taking measurements.

The park ranger came to Foley's side. "We had some hikers come through here about a week ago, and it wasn't here. Same with the scans the ISS made."

"You work closely with their team, I take it."

"Yes. Never know when some armchair hiker will want to take on the trail just to prove his manhood. They also help us keep watch for unlawful fires, and such."

"Adam!" Foley and the ranger turned at Juarez's call. She was holding a black leather wallet by the corner. "Look what I found. Belongs to the owner of the vehicle, and our missing person."

Just as in the past, Foley had held out a sliver of hope that this would be one of the few times they found the person alive and well, and wanting to be left alone for a while. "Justin Lockwood."

 **TBC**

 _Brave_ is a 2012 American computer-animated fantasy film produced by Pixar Animation Studios and released by Walt Disney Pictures.

Set in the Scottish Highlands, the film tells the story of a princess named Merida who defies an age-old custom, causing chaos in the kingdom by expressing the desire to not be betrothed. After consulting a witch for help, Merida uses a spell which accidentally transforms her mother into a bear. Merida must act to undo the spell before its effects become permanent.

 _Aladdin_ is a 1992 American animated musical fantasy film produced by Walt Disney Feature Animation, and released by Walt Disney Pictures.

A peddler sets up shop in the fictional sultanate of Agrabah, offering to tell the audience about the story of an oil lamp in his possession. Jafar, the Grand Vizier of the Sultan, and his parrot Iago, seek the lamp hidden within the Cave of Wonders, but is told that only a "diamond in the rough" may enter. Jafar identifies a street urchin named Aladdin as worthy. Aladdin and his pet monkey Abu cross paths with Princess Jasmine, who has run away from the palace, unwilling to be married off to another snobbish suitor.

 _I Dream of Jeannie_ is an American fantasy sitcom starring Barbara Eden as a 2,000-year-old genie and Larry Hagman as an astronaut who becomes her master, with whom she falls in love.

Tinker Bell (Tink for short), is a fictional character from J. M. Barrie's 1904 play _Peter Pan_ and its 1911 novelization _Peter and Wendy_. Barrie described Tinker Bell, the fairy who mended pots and kettles, an actual tinker of the fairy folk. Her speech consists of the sounds of a tinkling bell, which is understandable only to those familiar with the language of the fairies.

 _Fever_ is a song written by Eddie Cooley and Otis Blackwell, who used the pseudonym John Davenport. It has been covered by numerous artists from various musical genres, most notably by Peggy Lee whose rendition is the most widely known version of _Fever_ and became the singer's signature song. Lee's version contained rewritten lyrics different from the original and an altered music arrangement.

The International Space Station (ISS) is a space station, or a habitable artificial satellite, in low Earth orbit. Its first component launched into orbit in 1998, and the ISS is now the largest artificial body in orbit and can often be seen with the naked eye from Earth. The ISS consists of pressurized modules, external trusses, solar arrays, and other components. ISS components have been launched by Russian Proton and Soyuz rockets, and American Space Shuttles.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 36**

 **Unknown Location**

Justin came to suddenly, jerking upright in his seat. He moaned at the sensation of pain all over his body, and slowly opened his eyes. White filled his vision, and for a frightening moment, he thought he'd gone blind. Then sounds made themselves known. Birds, and other creatures flitting and scampering through the trees, and the trickle of a stream that could've been a trick of his battered mind.

 _Trees? What the ****? Where the hell am I?_

He leaned to the left as far as the locked seat belt would allow, careful to avoid the broken glass, and looked up at the sky. It was still dark, though no stars could be seen. That meant he couldn't have been here long. His right hand found the seat belt released, and the band across his chest and lap was removed.

Touching his throbbing forehead, Justin felt sticky wetness, and when he looked at his hand, it was covered in blood. He opened the center console, and took out a box cutter he kept there, using it to cut away the airbag so he had room to check for other injuries. Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed his gym bag, fumbling the zipper as he opened it. He used the towel to wipe the blood first from his hands then from his forehead, face and hair.

He also needed to find his cell phone before he got out and started roaming around. Turning his head gave him a twinge in his neck and shoulders. In spite of the airbag, he probably had whiplash, a concussion, or both. He flicked on the interior light, and it glinted off the face of his phone on the passenger floor. Stretching and groaning, his hand clamped around it. The screen was cracked, though it still worked.

Justin tried to dial 911, but kept getting the "no service" message. Same when he accessed the GPS. "****! Gotta find out where I am."

The driver's door was jammed. He twisted around in his seat, using his feet to kick the door open. One hand on the wheel, and the other on the jamb, he levered himself out, stumbling on the sloped ground. Holding onto the tree that he narrowly missed hitting, Justin took a few deep breaths, slammed the door, and began the climb up to what he assumed was the road. A few inches to the left, and the side bags would've deployed too.

As he crested the hill, Justin's hopes dropped. This path could only be called a road by the loosest of interpretations. It was unpaved, and barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other.

When communing with nature, Justin preferred a cabin on a lake that was within easy driving distance of civilization, no more than thirty minutes. This was way beyond that. He would never have come here voluntarily.

Holding his phone up to check for a signal, Justin picked a direction, and started walking. Less than five minutes later, he saw headlights flitting through the trees coming toward him. Relieved, he turned on the phone light, and waved to get their attention. As the vehicle came around the curve, his sixth sense started tingling, alerting him to danger. He shut the phone off, shoved it in his pocket, and ran down the hillside in the dark, dodging trees, and bushes, and jumping over rocks, and dead trees.

Roughly fifty yards in, he leaned against a tree to catch his breath, facing downhill, away from the road. And now that he was still, and his breathing had slowed, he could hear the distinctive footsteps of at least three men moving through the trees and underbrush.

His eyes had quickly become accustomed to the dark, and he could see more of his surroundings. The stream he heard before was up ahead, maybe ten yards or so. If he could make it to the other side, he might be able to find a place to hide until they gave up, or daylight came.

Or maybe his best bet was circling around behind them, and back to their vehicle. If luck was with him, they would've left the keys inside, and he could get away. He would then seek protection from the local police, and worry about who they were when he wasn't running for his life. And he had no doubt that he was, because rescuers would be calling out, not stalking him with weapons.

The snap of a branch to his left alerted him to the fact that he'd been in one place too long, and they'd nearly caught up to him. As they passed on his left, Justin inched around the tree to his right until he was facing uphill again. He was about to take off when he heard them speaking in a language that sounded like Russian. But why would Russians be after _him_? Did it have something to do with what happened to Gramps? That Natasha might be involved flitted through his mind, but didn't stay. She would never purposely do anything to hurt a member of the family.

When the footsteps faded, Justin cautiously made the climb back to the road. Moving as quietly as possible, he crept up to the driver's door, and peeked in the window. To his dismay, there were no keys.

Standing in the middle of the road, he was working out his next strategy when he felt the presence of danger. And while he wasn't one to panic in unfamiliar places or situations, his fight-or-flight response was triggered, dumping a massive amount of adrenaline into his system. In this instance, primitive survival instincts took over and Justin reacted accordingly.

He ran like hell.

Justin had always been a fast runner, but the additional incentive of danger increased his body's ability to perform. Rounding a curve, he chanced a glance over his shoulder, spying a dark form following. Ducking his head, Justin increased his speed until he'd gained a hefty lead.

Deciding that Shakespeare was right when he said that discretion was the better part of valor, he veered into the trees on the right instead of taking on the hill again. Once he was away from whoever they were, he would head for civilization again, provided they had that here. Wherever _here_ was.

Not five minutes later, he stopped to listen for his pursuers, hearing only the usual sounds of the forest. Or what he thought of as usual. He spent as little time as possible away from the city.

He wanted to check his phone for service again, but didn't for fear the light would give away his location. Creeping slowly through the trees, he kept an eye out for a place to hide, like a cave. Provided there wasn't a bear living in it, of course.

His hand shot out to grab onto any handhold, grabbing onto a small tree when the ground in front of him disappeared, and he nearly fell over a cliff. As cliffs went, it wasn't all that high, but he'd likely be injured, maybe even break a bone, if he fell. And if that happened, he'd either be caught, or die of shock or exposure before he was found.

As Justin took a step back, the ground beneath his feet crumbled, and he found himself sliding down the slight slope, rolling over and over, and sailing through the air. He turned as he fell, but not enough, landing hard on his left side. The big bone in his arm broke with a sickening crunch, and the sharp stab of incredible pain force a cry from his mouth.

He rolled over several times, coming to a stop on his stomach. Blood ran into his eyes from the reopening of the head wound, and down his chin from a broken nose. Turning onto his back, Justin gently probed the arm hanging at an odd angle, feeling bone, blood, and exposed muscle below the sleeve of his shirt.

With an effort, Justin got to his knees, then to his feet. He stood swaying through a dizzy spell in the small amount of moonlight that reached the clearing where he'd landed. Holding his left arm still with his right, he looked around trying to get his bearings, while he worked out a strategy for staying alive, and away from those men.

As he drew near to the opposite side of the clearing, he again felt his danger sense, only it wasn't just tingling this time. It was _screaming_. Panting, Justin turned in a circle in an attempt to locate the direction from which it was coming. Problem was he'd never been able to focus on the feeling well enough locate the source unless it was close by, usually within fifteen feet.

Then, heavy footfalls drew near, and when he turned to run, he was confronted by three men dressed all in black, their faces hidden, and each carrying an AR-15. How he knew what the weapon was called, he couldn't say.

Three red dots appeared in the center of his chest, and Justin knew he was beat. He wanted to know who they were, what they wanted, and why they were doing this. But most of all, he just wanted to go _home_. Briefly, he thought of begging for his life, but that wasn't his MO. He was a Barnes. He would meet his fate looking them in the eye, and without flinching. Hell, he might even smirk, just like Gramps.

More footsteps came from behind, crunching on the rocks, the sound symbolic of the crushing of that last tiny sliver of hope hidden inside his mind that told him this was all a bad dream. That he would soon wake up and find himself in his own bed, and that everything he'd experienced had been caused by the spetzofai he and Rey had for dinner.

Then, the man began to speak, and with each word, something inside Justin changed. The pain started to fade, and piece by piece, his mind slowly went blank.

~~O~~

The fourth man was unarmed, carrying only a faded red cloth-covered journal with a black star on the front. He flipped it open as he moved closer to the subject. Speaking in Russian, he walked around, pausing in between words. " _Otzyv… potoki… gordyy… nevnyatnyy…_ _pyat…_ _nablyudeniye…_ _dyes-yat…_ _svyatynya… prizrak_."

The subject stopped fidgeting, and stood still, staring straight ahead, blinking and breathing slowly.

" _Soldat?_ "

Still holding onto the shattered arm, the subject breathed in, and out. " _Ya gotov otvechat'_."

 **3s & 8s Productions**

 **Falls Church, Virginia**

Joi looked into the camera, and smiled. "…we'll be right back after we pay a few bills."

"And… cut!" The director, a man who went by Paxton or Pax, no last name, pushed out of his chair, meeting Joi at the edge of the set. "That was perfect, Joi." To the room, he said, "Take lunch, everyone. Be back in two hours, and not _one minute_ after."

She took off her chef's jacket on her way to the combination dressing room and office she shared with her co-stars, glad for this time alone. Her dreams lately had been filled with surreal, sometimes frightening images, often waking her long before her alarm. Those hours would be spent watching Steve sleep, if he was there, working on recipes for the café and the show, or playing funny animal videos until she could go back to sleep.

Last night had been rough. The images in the dream were like snapshots of her life, but not the life she remembered. They appeared to be bits and pieces of a previous life Joi had lived. Which was ludicrous. She didn't believe in past lives or reincarnation. To tell the truth, she wasn't sure what she believed, but it wasn't that.

She toed off her shoes, reached up under her top to unhook the front of her bra, and lay down on the sofa for a nap. Just as she dozed off, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID, seeing her grandfather's smiling face. Her thumb sent the call to voice mail, and turned the device completely off. The PA would make sure she was up in time to get back to the set. Right now, all she wanted was get a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

Rolling over to face the back, Joi hugged one of the sofa pillows, and like a light switch had been flipped, she was out.

An unknown amount of time later, Joi awoke to Amalie shaking her. "Joi? Wake up! Joi!"

Pushing herself upright, she scooted around until she was sitting with her feet on the floor. She yawned, and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm up. Man, it feels like I was only asleep for a few minutes."

"That's 'cause it's only _been_ a few minutes." Amalie handed her an iced soy latte that had have been laced with espresso for the jolt it gave her. "You need to _wake up_ , hun. Now!"

"Ungh."

When Joi tried to lie down again, Amalie wouldn't let her. "No-no-no. You have to get up! Your family's been trying to get in touch with you. When you didn't answer your phone, they called Elyse who called me."

A little more awake now, Joi took another long sip of the coffee drink, and set it on the vanity to her left. "Why? What's going on?"

Amalie sat next to her, putting a shoe on one foot then the other. "Do up your bra, hun." The PA crossed to the desk, and came back with Joi's purse while she did as she was told.

"Amalie, what's going _on_?"

"Your grandfather said there's a family emergency, and they need you home ASAP. Everyone's meeting at his place." Shaking her head uncertainly, the PA came to a decision. "I heard your brother's gone missing."

"Chase? He's probably deep inside a computer communing with his own species, and ignoring the phone or people knocking on the door."

Taking Joi's hand, Amalie pulled her up, and dragged her into the hall, through the studio, and out to the parking lot. "Not _him_. The other one. I don't know the details. And my source isn't even sure that _his_ source is accurate. All I know is you should have a s***load of missed calls."

"What about Pax?"

" _I'll_ handle Pax. _Go_!"

Taking out her phone, Joi powered it up, and pulled out her car keys at the same time. As she got behind the wheel, she found that Amalie was right. It looked like everyone in her family _except_ Justin had called her repeatedly in the last thirty minutes.

She placed the phone in the hands-free holder on her dash, stuck the Bluetooth in her left ear, and told it to dial Natasha. She'd be the most level headed of them all, and the one most likely to be able to give her a coherent explanation. Unfortunately, the call went to voice mail.

Once she got on the highway, she took a chance, and bumped her speed up to fifteen over the limit.

 **The Barnes Residence**

 **Washington D.C.**

Twenty-three minutes after leaving the studio, Joi screeched to a stop behind her mother's sedan.

The front door opened before she got there, her mother hugging her and talking so fast she couldn't make heads or tails of what she was saying. Once inside, she urged Carolyn to sit on the sofa next to Dad, grabbed Gramps, and dragged him to the kitchen away from everyone else, though no one but her parents seemed to notice she'd arrived. Mom had to have been watching out for her.

"Gramps, what the hell's going on?"

Bucky looked down at the floor, and back up, their eyes meeting. He huffed, and pushed a hand through his hair. "It's Justin. You know how he is when he's working. Loses track of time. Family trait, I guess."

"And?"

"No one's heard from him since he left his girlfriend's condo the night of Gracie's party. Not even Alex. And you know how OCD Justin is about keeping in touch with the club."

Joi leaned against the counter, letting her breath out in a long stream. "There's more." Their gazes met again. "What is it?"

"His SUV was found in Maryland near the Appalachian Trail this morning. Totaled. His wallet, cash, cards, everything were intact. There was blood all over the front seat, and air bag, and a towel." Bucky touched her arm, needing comfort as well as giving it. "They're testing the blood now, but the detectives are fairly certain it's Justin's."

"How can that _be_? He's supposed to be in Vancouver."

She let Bucky enfold her in his warm, familiar, and comforting embrace. "You know how the police are. They're asking lots of questions, and giving ambiguous answers. By the time they were done interviewing your parents, your mom was almost hysterical."

Chase came in, and Joi went to her brother, hugging him tight. He released her, and opened the refrigerator, silently asking if she wanted a drink. She nodded, and got a glass from the cabinet, holding out for him to pour.

"Justin's fingerprints and DNA are on file from when he applied for Tunnel Vision's liquor license. We should be hearing something soon."

Holding her glass of lemonade in one hand, Joi sat down at the counter. "What about that girl he's dating? Rey?"

Chase took a long swallow of his drink, the look on his face telling Joi he wished it were something stronger even though, like her, he couldn't get drunk. He peered into the glass for a moment. "The cops cleared her. Security cameras at her condo show Justin leaving. Rey went inside, and didn't come out again until the next morning. According to what Detective Juarez told us, the accident happened between two and three in the morning."

"So why did it take Alex three days to report him missing?"

"He figured same as us. That he was working. That he finally found the right place for the club."

Her brother sounded as skeptical as Joi felt. "But you don't think so."

Shaking his head, Chase came to sit next to her, letting Bucky continue. "Natasha's contacts are working on getting us more details, but what she found out so far was that Justin's never set foot in Vancouver. Hasn't been to Canada _at all_." He paused to let it sink in. "Ever."

~~O~~

"Then where's he been going? And how does he get the stuff he brings back? Most of it says Vancouver, BC on it. Can't get that in the US," Joi pointed out.

Bucky shook his head. Something like that would be easy for anyone who knew the right people. It would a simple task for those who had been hypnotizing him for God only knew how long. What if _they_ were involved in his grandson's disappearance as retaliation for Bruce breaking him free of their machinations? If Justin or any other member of his family suffered because of what happened to him, Bucky truly wouldn't be able to live with himself. "Let's just wait for the police to call or come by. No sense in assuming the worst."

Chase and Joi wandered out to the living room to be with their parents. Serenity hadn't answered the text Bucky sent, and neither had Collin. If they didn't hear from them in another hour or so, he would go to their home to check on them just in case.

Natasha came in, wrapped her arms around his waist, and held on tight. "I've heard back from my contacts. Nothing. It's as if Justin disappeared off the face of the earth. Once he got on the highway, there's no trace of him until his SUV was found by the park ranger."

He released her, and stepped back. Too restless to stand still, he paced, but it didn't help much. What he really needed was to hit something.

"I also had someone checking on Collin and Serenity. Their car broke down in an area without cell service. They never got your text. My people are taking care of having the vehicle towed, and will see to it that they're brought here as soon as possible."

Bucky stopped pacing to lean on the counter, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could've gotten all that done, but not nearly as quickly. Thank you for that."

"We're family. It's all part of the service, James." She crossed her arms, feet shoulder width apart, as if preparing for battle. "You're thinking this has something to do with the people who had been hypnotizing you all these years."

"We have no idea why they were doing it, what their agenda is. Justin could've been a convenience for those monsters once their primary target, me, had been taken away."

The look in Natasha's eyes didn't bode well for whomever had taken his grandson once she caught up to them. And Bucky couldn't find one shred of sympathy to spare for their fate. In fact, whatever she had planned for them, he would gladly join her, as would the rest of the family.

"Tasha, what if these people plan on holding him for ransom in order to get me back?"

"I've been thinking about that. Once we know where Justin is, the Avengers will handle them, quietly, and discreetly. You can't exchange yourself for him. I won't let them have either of you."

To ease the urge to hit something, Bucky shoved his hands into his pants pockets. It didn't help. "If these are the same people who were messing with my mind, do you think they've been doing it to others?"

"Except for the Asset-in training? Possible, though I doubt it or we'd have heard."

Natasha's eyes got a faraway look in them, and suddenly, she rushed from the kitchen, and by the time Bucky reached the stairs, she'd gone into the bedroom and shut the door. He had one foot on the bottom step when he heard the door lock engage. It would be easy enough to break the door down, but it wouldn't get him anything aside from a bill to have the door and lock replaced.

For now, Bucky would sit with his family, and worry about his grandson. Whatever Natasha was up to would come out eventually. It always did.

~~O~~

With the door shut, and the lock engaged, Natasha sat in the armchair with her legs curled under. She activated the jamming device, and set it on the table next to her. Taking out her phone, she dialed Bruce, tapping her fingers on her knee impatiently.

" _Banner._ " Bruce's tone was distracted, as if she'd called in the middle of one of his infamous brainstorms.

"I need your help again, Big Guy."

" _Anything_."

Stretching her legs out, she rested her feet on the chair's matching ottoman. "Justin's disappeared. His SUV was found totaled, with blood in the front seat. His wallet was intact, and his cell was missing."

There was a pause while Bruce digested the info. " _I'm sorry to hear that. But you didn't call me just because Justin ran his car into a tree. What's really going on, Tasha?_ "

"That's what I was hoping you could help me figure out. I have a hunch it might be the same people who've been messing with James's head…"

" _And they've taken Justin as punishment for James getting away. You could have a point. But that's not the only reason you called._ "

He knew her so well. "Let's assume for the moment that we're spot on with our assessment. They've been planning this for some time."

" _How do you know?_ "

"Because Justin was seeing Heath professionally for almost a year. Traffic and security cams have him going into and out of Heath's office after hours, twice a week, and nearly always on the same day that James had an appointment. And that's not all. For months, he's told his employee, friends, and family he's been traveling to Vancouver, scouting places for a new night club. We found out this morning that he's never entered Canada in his life."

The squeak of an office chair told her Bruce had taken a seat in his office. " _Then where has he been going?_ "

"No idea." Natasha's restlessness became too much. She got up to pace. "What I need you to do is get ahold of Justin's and James's medical records, and do an in-depth comparison. See if there're any physical attributes they share, aside from DNA. There has to be a reason they chose Justin, and not one of the other kids, or even Gracie."

" _I'll get on it immediately, and call you when I have something worth sharing_."

Returning to her contact list, Natasha dialed Hill, but the call was routed to Ryan Kripke, her relief. " _What can I do you for, Agent Romanoff?_ "

"Background checks. Put Klein on it." She heard him calling Klein over, having correctly assumed that her request would be super-hush-hush. There was a moment of silence, then the sound of a computer powering up in a small room.

" _Um, Agent Romanoff?_ "

"I'm here. The family of James Buchanan Barnes. I need the works. Friend, acquaintances, co-workers, pet groomers, and so forth. Medical history, work history, family history, as far back as possible, with special attention to any large cash transfers, money in offshore accounts, anyone living above their means, new and expensive acquisitions. You know the drill."

There was a pause, during which she heard the keyboard clicking at an incredible speed. " _Yes, ma'am. I assume this is to be confidential, so I'll contact you when it's done._ "

"I want all the forensic evidence from the MPD. If they won't share…"

" _Go in and get it. Understood._ "

Natasha ended the call, shoved the phone into her back pocket, and went downstairs to make dinner. Someone had to be the strong one, the rock that kept everyone grounded, the glue that kept the Barnes family from falling apart, and that was _her_ job.

 **Appalachian Trail**

 **One Week Later**

Squad Leader Andi Rees crossed her arms, nodding as Commander Hill went over their instructions one more time, keeping her features neutral when what she really wanted to do was bash a few heads together. They'd been over this same material three times already. She and her people knew how to do an evidence search. Why couldn't they just bugger off and let them get to it?

Dr. Banner, standing next to Agent Romanoff, gave them all a nod. "We appreciate your help with this project. If you find anything you believe has significance, call me. I'll want to view it before we pack it up for forensics."

The four squads headed away from the base camp on the piss poor road they'd come in on. Her fanny had taken a beating on the hard bench seat in the back of the wagon. Going walk-about in these woods would do her good. Might even skip her work out tonight. It was worth it though, if it led them to whoever had taken Romanoff's bloke's grandson. Justin something.

Some of the men on her team resented that she'd been promoted over them, and spent more than a bit of time letting her know it. But she was made of sterner stuff than most, and didn't take s*** from no one. "Oy! You lot back there! Get your arses in gear. Don't wanna be fannyin' about in these woods all day and night. Spread out like the doc told ya."

The team did as she said, and they finally got down to business.

 **Two Hours Later**

Dragging her knife through a pile of leaves covered in what looked like dried blood, Andi reached into her pocket with the other hand, pulling out a pair of gloves so she could gather the leaves into an evidence bag, her head jerking up, and around at a shout.

" _Yo, Rees! Over here! Hurry!_ "

Rosado sounded gutted, which was odd. The man never panicked about anything. Not even during the invasion over New York. Her weapon came out, a Glock 1911, gripped tight in her right hand while her left clicked the radio. "Rees to Hill. Rosado's found something. He's on grid November-five-nine, on the other side of the stream. Meet us there, and bring the doc."

" _Roger, Rees. On our way._ "

She clicked back over. "Rosado, what's your exact location?"

" _At the caves. You won't believe what I found_."

"Almost there."

Three of her teammates joined her. They splashed across the stream and around to the right, coming up short at the sight of Rosado crouching over a pile of bloody leaves. They slowed to a walk, stopping in a semi-circle on either side of Rosado. Using the point of his knife, he moved the leaves out of the way so Andi could see.

She inhaled sharply, and a moment later, more searchers, Romanoff, Hill and Banner joined them, all staring at the lower two-thirds of a human arm. Male, if Andi had to guess, and still wearing a watch in spite of the fact that an animal, or animals, had been snacking on it.

Without being told, Rosado turned the arm over, and what they saw forced a gasp from everyone but Romanoff. Andi could only think of one thing to say. "Bloody _hell_."

 **TBC**

 _Otzyv_ = Recall

 _Potoki_ = Threads

 _Gordyy_ = Proud

 _Nevnyatnyy_ = Indistinct

 _Pyat_ = Five

 _Nablyudeniye_ = Watching

 _Dyes-yat_ = Ten

 _Postel'_ = Bed

 _Svyatynya_ = Shrine

 _Prizrak_ = Ghost

 _Soldat_ = Soldier

 _Ya gotov otvechat'_ = Ready to comply

I already had the idea to use code words as a trigger before CA: CW came out. I changed it up a bit to more closely resemble what transpired in the movie. Unlike the movie, these words mean nothing. As for the last two words/phrases, I got them from Google Translate, in case they're incorrect.

Spetzofai is a spicy Greek dish made with thick country sausages and peppers in a rich tomato sauce.


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 37**

"That's his watch," Natasha said flatly. "The tattoos are relatively new. He's only had them a couple of months. That's the Chinese character for heart, and on the right he has the character for soul." No one said a word. They knew about her relationship with Bucky, and were kind enough not to make the usual morbid jokes used to relieve the emotional turmoil they felt at the tragic loss of life, whether they knew the victim or not.

She often wondered how Justin had chosen to have those particular words tattooed on the inside of his wrists. His girlfriend couldn't have been an influence because he hadn't known her when he got them.

Bruce crouched beside the arm, hesitating a fraction of a second before beginning his examination. "It was broken recently. I'd say seven to nine days at the most. Bruising around the wound is inconsistent with injuries sustained in the accident. It was broken later, probably in a fall from a height of at no more than five meters, probably a little less." He pointed to the end of the bone. "It was an open compound fracture. See there? I'll need to get the arm to the lab to be certain of my findings, but I'm willing to venture that Justin was alive for at least a day," he gestured at the limb, "Just long enough for a massive infection to set in, which tells me he had no medical treatment for the injury after it happened. Not right away."

Natasha pounced on his description, hope flaring. "Does that mean he's still alive? That someone amputated the arm?"

"Yes, and no. He could've been taken down by the local wildlife. The, uh, arm wasn't amputated by someone with surgical knowledge. It was ripped off. The flesh has been chewed on. I understand black bears roam the woods all along the Appalachian Trail."

His friend and teammate digested the information as Hill stepped forward, speaking to the remaining squad members. "Get back to work. See if you can find the rest of the body."

The squads scattered back to their grids, leaving Natasha alone with Hill and Bruce. "I have to call Carolyn and Martin. We'll need them to formally identify Justin's property."

Bruce wrapped an arm around her shoulder, turning her into his embrace. "I'm sorry, Tasha. Would you like me to speak to them?"

"They're my family. It's my job."

"I'll have a private room set up at the Triskelion. Helen Cho will help with the autopsy."

Natasha pushed away from Bruce, gesturing at the surrounding. "Thank you. What can I do to help?"

"Don't. As you said they're your family. Sit this one out, Tasha. No one will think less of you."

She nodded, climbed back up the hill, and stood next to the vehicle staring at a large oil spot on the ground. Crouching, she ran a finger through it, rubbing the result between thumb and forefinger, and sniffed it. Fresh.

Getting to her feet, Natasha glance right and left, not sure what she was looking for until she found it. Someone had stepped in the oil, and tracked it to the west. She followed the trail consisting of only the toes of the right shoe. The owner had been running, and fast. Soon, the trail all but disappeared as it veered to the right. She located another footprint, this time in the dirt where the path ended.

Returning to the vehicle, she helped herself to one of Bruce's laptops to go over the analysis he'd done comparing Justin and Bucky's medical histories. Not only did the boy resemble Bucky more than any other male member of the family, their EEGs were almost identical. Not the only differences, but the most notable ones were when Bucky had reacted to her name, or photo. Which also explained the boy's reaction to the song that sent Bucky into a frenzy.

If she kept this information from the family for their peace of mind, when it came out-and it would, eventually, Natasha would have to the bear the pain of betrayal from everyone, including Bucky. She snorted to herself. _It happens more than you'd think_.

An idea popped into her head. She pulled up a map of their current location, and found another stream on the other side of the path. The original search had only gone fifty yards or so, and the stream was much farther in, at the bottom of a moderate cliff. That and the footprint spurred her to action.

Bruce had everything in the 4x4 needed to take samples. Natasha went to the back of the vehicle and opened the hatch. She loaded several pairs of gloves, evidence bags, vials, and all the tools she might need to gather evidence, slung a coil of rope with a grappling hook on the end over her shoulder, and closed the doors.

One of the guards seemed overly interested in what she was doing. She nodded as she passed him, and he followed her into the woods.

~~O~~

With Hill assisting, Bruce packed up the samples the teams had collected so far. They were just closing up the back of the vehicle when Natasha and one of the guards returned. "Where've _you_ been?"

"Had a hunch I wanted to work on." She shook a small vial of water in the air. "Found another stream through there," she nodded to the right. "Had to rappel down a cliff, and cross a field of clover to get to it. Found blood too."

Natasha and the guard loaded the evidence bags into the back of the 4x4, and moved out of the way so Hill and Bruce could close up. She smiled her appreciation to the guard. He tipped his hat, and rejoined the squads still searching. Bruce held the shotgun door for Natasha, and closed it after her. Hill got behind the wheel, and Bruce climbed into the back seat. "There are streams all over the area, Tasha. Why that particular one?"

"I told you, a hunch. Justin's intelligent. More so than he wants people to think." Natasha turned in her seat as much as possible with the seat belt buckled. "I read over the reports from the MPD. Their forensic team located oil on the path. The analysis wasn't much help because the brand was fairly common. It was fresh, meaning someone had parked on the path long enough to leave it behind. It couldn't have come from Justin's SUV because he uses a synthetic, eco-friendly brand. Not to mention the SUV was found down the hill, and not on the path. I'm sure whoever orchestrated these events didn't mean for him to survive the crash.

"One of the things the MPD missed was a partial footprint in the dirt about thirty meters east of where he went over the side. I recognize the unusual tread pattern. It's from a pair of sneakers Justin recently bought. The angle of the footprint indicates that he went into the woods at that point.

"What I think happened is when they realized he'd regained consciousness before they could take him into custody, they went after him. He tried getting away by going down the hill, but the clever boy that he is, Justin let them think he'd run off into the woods in a panic, and doubled back to the road, hoping they'd left their keys in the ignition. It's been done to death in the movies, I know, but that's because it happens in real life. Not this time.

"Justin ran along the path to where I found his footprint, and into the woods until he came to the cliff. At that point, he either fell or was pushed over the side. Probably where he broke his arm because I found blood on the rocks at the bottom, and in the clover. Good thing it hadn't rained, or I'd never have found it."

Bruce nodded. "I'll get on it right away."

Hill held up an evidence bag containing a smashed cell phone. "I had Klein trace the serial number. It's Lockwood's." She passed the bag to Bruce who stored it with the rest of the evidence in a locked case. "I'll see what Klein can do to restore its memory. Failing that, Klein could hack the cell company's site and get his call logs."

 **The Lockwood Home**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

"Isn't there something you can _do_ , Dad?" The pleading note in Carolyn's tone cut Bucky to the core. "It's been over a week, and they're no closer to finding Justin now than at the beginning."

Bucky held his daughter close, brushing his hand down the back of her hair the way he did when she was a child. "I've done all I can, honey. Let's just let the professionals do their job."

He let her go when she stepped back, and he was relieved to see she wasn't crying. "I heard that the first two days are the most important, that each day after that it gets less and less likely we'll find anything to tell us where he's gone, or was taken."

"Carolyn, we've discussed this. If he was kidnapped, they would've already sent a ransom demand. That's why the FBI moved out last night." Bucky sat on the sofa in his daughter's living room, the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. "You've taken a leave of absence from work?"

"Yes. I can't concentrate on my job, but being at home while Martin works is nerve wracking." She dropped down next to him. "I just don't know what to do." Taking his hand forced him to look at her. "Is this how you felt when they were looking for Steve after he ditched the plane?"

Bucky examined those old memories, taking them out one at a time, reminding himself of the waiting that made the days pass so slowly. Steve was the only family Bucky had after his parents passed away within a few months of each other the year he turned twenty-one. "It was different for me. We knew approximately where the plane had gone down, and were certain he'd died on impact, so it wasn't a search and rescue. It was treated as a recovery. The Army doesn't give an extended leave of absence during the war unless you're injured. As the months went by, the Army gave up, and Howard Stark continued searching on his own. Eventually, Howard gave up too.

"The Howling Commandoes were kept busy for a while, then they split us up. By that time, it was easier, mostly because Dugan and I were assigned to the SSR working with Peggy Carter."

"So keeping busy helped." Carolyn's features fell into that thoughtful expression she inherited from Connie. Coming to a decision, she picked up the phone on her way up the stairs. "Ahmed? Carolyn. Cancel my LOA. I'll be there in an hour… Yes, I'm sure… Have Jinny get the Spanowietz file ready, and put it on my desk… Absolutely… We'll talk when I get there."

Anything more she might've said was cut off when her bedroom door shut.

In spite of the situation, Bucky grinned smugly. Martin had called the night before asking for his help. All Carolyn had done since Justin went missing was mope around the house, cleaning over and over. When she started talking about repainting the living room, dining room, and kitchen, he knew it was time to call in reinforcements.

 _Mission accomplished_ , Bucky thought. _Connie would be proud._

 **The Triskelion**

 **Washington, D.C.**

 **Two Days Later**

Bruce returned from taking a break to find Natasha reading the instructions on how to use the mass spectrometer. The guard leaned his arm on the wall, watching over her shoulder. When she seemed uncertain, he pointed. Natasha nodded, and soon she had the device whirring through the process.

"What're you doing, Tasha?"

"Got tired of waiting for you to finish. Needed something to do so I thought I'd see if I could give you a hand."

The mass spec made a strange sound, and Bruce rushed to shut it off. "Please let _me_ handle the machinery from now on."

"What can I do to help?"

"Uh, you can…" he looked around for something that would fit her skill set. Not much to do in a lab that would benefit from the skills of an assassin. "Put on gloves, and hand me tools as I need them. I can keep up a running dialog so you know what's happening. When you get bored, and you will, I won't be insulted if you leave."

Natasha gave him that look. The one all the men she knew experienced at one time or another. The closest interpretation Bruce could come up with involved her calling each of them putz, or the equivalent in Russian, Italian, Latin, or any of the many other languages in which she was fluent.

"Thanks for all you're doing, Bruce. I should get home." She hung her head, and if she were any other woman, he might've expected to see tears when she looked at him again. Except for the fact that her eyes were shinier than normal, there was nothing. "Won't mention the arm for now."

"Good. No sense in worrying them." He looked down at his hands, and back to her. "Just a thought, but maybe we should think about not mentioning it. Here me out, please." Natasha pulled over a stool, and sat down, her feet perched on the higher bar bringing her knees up to her waist. "The moment they're told about the arm, they'll lose hope. They'll mourn, grieve, have a memorial service, a funeral, whatever, and go on with their lives."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up, but not with amusement. "That's how it works. Birth and death. What matters is the 'and', the living he did in between. Justin was kind, thoughtful, creative, intelligent, and fun-loving. Had a good head for business. But most of all, he was happy, and well-adjusted. And that's what counts. His family, _our_ family, should get to say good-bye. Not keep looking for him in every young man they see on the street. Hoping that one day, he'll walk through the door as if none of this had happened."

"We don't know that he's dead, Tasha. What if this whole scenario" Bruce waved his arms, "is being played out by the people who took him so that we _wouldn't_ look for him?" He took her hand, and drew her over to the main computer. A few taps on the keyboard, and the screen brought up a truckload of information. Most of it would mean nothing to her. He minimized what he didn't need, and enlarged one particular document. "This is the autopsy Helen and I performed. I know it looks like a bunch of random numbers, charts, and graphs, but it paints a very specific picture to anyone who can read it."

Natasha crossed her arms. "And what does the picture tell you, Bruce?"

He paused, though not for dramatic effect. "The limb was most definitely Justin's. The DNA comparison is conclusive. The tattoo, as you said, is approximately three months old. The watch came with a certificate of authenticity that gives the buyer's name as Justin P. Lockwood."

"And?"

Bruce turned around to lean on the edge of the table with his arms crossed. "As I said before, the skin on the underside of his arm," he used his arm as a model, indicating the underside of the bicep, "was torn, not cut. Whoever removed the arm," he mimed twisting and pulling, "wanted it to _appear_ that he'd died at the hands, uh, claws of a bear.

"What does it all _mean_?"

His friend and teammate was tiring of his long-winded description. "What I said at the site. It means that Justin was alive when the arm was removed." Natasha's eyes widened as she took in what he was saying. "I don't think he's dead. And if he's not, the family shouldn't stop looking for him."

~~O~~

Out in the hall, Natasha paced to the lift doors and back to the lab entrance, thinking over the conversation with Bruce, and her description of Justin. _…But most of all, he was happy, and well-adjusted._

She knew her assessment was correct. Why had Justin started seeing a therapist, and why Heath? He'd only gone to the office at night according to security footage from the traffic and security cameras in the vicinity. Heath and the people he worked for had their eye on Justin long before now. But where did their paths cross?

Before the thought was fully formed, Natasha had her phone in hand and hit speed dial. Bucky answered almost immediately. " _Tasha! What's going on? Where have you been all day?_ "

"Later. James, think back. Was there ever a time when you introduced Heath to Justin?"

" _No, never. At least not that I remember. With all the crap he put in my head, would I even know I'd done it?_ "

The next time she came to the lifts, she called for a car. "Maybe not, but then Justin's strong-willed, and hard-headed, like the rest of the family. If you suggested he see a therapist, he'd want to know why you thought he needed one. I'm good at reading people. That boy has carried very little emotional baggage. There was no reason for him to see Heath of his own free will." The lift doors opened, and Natasha got on. "My guess is they didn't meet by accident, and the incident was removed from his memory. Heath and his people didn't want anyone to know what was going on, that much is certain."

" _Too bad all of his records are gone. Do you think he was doing it to other members of my family too?_ "

"No. When we found out Justin had been seeing Heath, we checked the GPS records for every member of the family who carries a cell phone, as well as Heath's. Their paths came close a few times, but there was no interaction between them."

Bucky let out a relieved breath. " _Thank God. When are you coming home? Want me to make dinner?_ "

"I have a few errands to run, so seven-ish. And I'll pick something up on the way." Natasha disconnected, and dialed another number. "Joi? Nat. Can we talk?"

Bucky's granddaughter sounded harried, the way she did during a lunch rush. " _Sure. Say three-thirty?_ "

"Perfect. And could you make us something for dinner? Anything will do."

" _Absolutely. See you in a bit_."

Now all Natasha had to do is come up with a good reason for wanting to speak to Joi away from her family. _Easy-peasy_. She also needed to speak to Mia. _Even easy-peasier_.

The lift opened on the underground parking level. Natasha got into her car, the engine roared, and she pulled out into traffic, headed for Abraham Lincoln University. She was leaning on Mia's red Volkswagen Beetle convertible when the young woman got to the parking lot.

~~O~~

The young blonde brightened when she saw Natasha standing by her car. "Nat! What're you doing here? Did the cops find Justin?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Java Junction?"

A few minutes later, the women were sitting in a corner of the coffee house, away from the other patrons. Natasha brought them each a drink, and took a sip while toying with her keys. In anyone else, Mia would think it was a stalling technique, but Natasha wasn't like that. She was refreshingly straightforward when she had something on her mind. "Mia, do you know anything about Justin's sessions with Dr. Heath?"

Mia was taking a drink, and almost did a spit-take. She wiped her mouth, and took another sip before answering. " _Justin_? Seeing a _shrink_? Of everyone in the family he's the _least_ likely to need therapy. He's always been disgustingly well-adjusted. He's never had a car accident, been kidnapped, assaulted, abused, bullied, stalked, or been afraid of cats, dogs, spiders, snakes, clowns, small spaces, open spaces, or the dark."

"That was my take as well."

"Why do you ask?"

Natasha sipped her coffee, and set the cup on the table. "He was being seen by the same therapist who caused your grandfather's episode."

"And you think these people, whoever they are, took Justin. Why? Retribution? To replace Gramps? Meanness? Ransom?"

"Not sure, though I'd say ransom is off the table. If they wanted money, or to make an exchange, we'd have been contacted by now. It's been two weeks." The women sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, or so Mia assumed until Natasha asked a question out of left field. "Besides creating electricity, can you do anything else out of the ordinary?"

Mia snorted. That was not what she expected Natasha to ask. "I don't really create it. I pull it out of the air, and can channel it through my body, up to a point. Doing it for too long drains some of my own body's electricity, and I'll pass out. Only done that a couple of times while Louis was helping me learn to control it."

"And Louis is…"

"He's sort of a guru. Met him when I took off a few years back. This," she made a small spark between her thumb and forefinger, "was making me think I was going crazy. Dad was no help. He was busy working all the time, so I had to find my own way. As for your question, we should go somewhere private for the answer."

Natasha followed Mia outside. They got in Mia's car, and she drove back to the university, where they went into the Creating Arts building, and into one of the private practice rooms. Setting her purse on the seat of a grand piano, Mia face Natasha, arms hanging at her sides. "Pick a color."

~~O~~

Not completely sure where Mia was going with this, Natasha went along with the game. "Have you ever seen the state flower of Texas?"

Nodding, Mia closed her eyes, and soon, her blonde hair had changed to blue-purple color of a Texas bluebonnet, including the lighter shades of the younger blossoms.

As she moved closer to the young woman, Natasha could see variations in the coloring all over her head. "Nice work. Multicolor?" Starting at the roots, Mia's hair changed to resemble a rainbow. Holding in a grin, she made another request, more to gauge how fast and how often the changes could be made, "Brown, the same shade as James."

Again, Mia's short hair changed, now resembling the hair color most of the family sported, holding her hands out as if to say, "Ta-dah!"

"Can you change anything else? Length, or texture?"

"I've tried, but no." Her hair faded through the brown spectrum until it was her usual shade. "I prefer the blonde. Makes me stand out more."

Natasha crossed her arms, biting on her lower lip in thought. "How does this relate to the electrical discharges?"

"Huh! You're asking _me_? It's like driving a car, or using a computer. You can do both without any real idea of how they work." Mia's expression changed to doubt. "You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?"

"In the family? No. Though I'm thinking about consulting Dr. Banner, to get an idea not only _how_ it works, but why." Leading the way out, Natasha kept her voice low. "Just out of curiosity."

They got back in the Beetle, and Mia pulled away from the curb. "If he figures it out, share."

"He may want to do a DNA profile. You up for it?"

Mia leaned on her horn when another car pulled out in front of her, though her expression didn't change. "I'm up for anything."

 **Unknown Location**

A strange fuzziness permeated his brain, making him dizzy. Blinking rapidly in the bright light, he tried to sit up, but he couldn't move. His eyes roamed over his body. He was shirtless, with shiny silver shackles on his arms above the elbow, and around the wrists. Farther down, the same had been done to his legs, and another over his torso. Taking a deep breath, he looked into his memory for anything that would tell him how he came to be in this place.

" _Doctor, he's awake._ " The voice was accented, and harsh, the way you might speak if you were a hardened and jaded soldier. No, it was just an accent. The man spoke Russian. How could he understand him, and the others?

To his right, someone moved into the peripheral of his vision. He was dressed all in black, and held an enormous assault weapon the way most people would a newborn.

Two men and a woman in white coats crowded around him, shining a light in his eyes, their fingers probing his left arm and shoulder. Then he remembered. He'd broken that arm falling off a cliff running from… he couldn't remember. Had they done surgery? Would he be able to play the piano again, or even dress himself?

One of the men leaned over him, smiling in a way he didn't like. "It's good you're awake. Now we can admire our handiwork in action."

He tried to speak, but nothing would come out. The man patted his hand, and nodded. Another pair of hands, female this time, released the metal restraints on his arms.

But something wasn't right. He held both hands up, turning them over to examine the palms and backs. The right was pale, and soft, and when he moved the fingers, he could see the play of muscle and tendons under the skin. But the left was made of segmented metal pieces that fit perfectly. He flexed those fingers as well.

The first man came back, smiling, though not in a way that he liked.

"The surgery went better than expected. With your unique physiology, we do not anticipate that the biomechanical arm will be rejected." He leaned close, the smile taking on a sinister appearance. "We knew that it would only be a matter of time before the previous Asset broke free of his programming. Now _you_ will be the new fist of HYDRA. Hail HYDRA!"

 **TBC**

Electroencephalography (EEG) is an electrophysiological monitoring method to record electrical activity of the brain. It is typically noninvasive, with the electrodes placed along the scalp, although invasive electrodes are sometimes used in specific applications. EEG measures voltage fluctuations resulting from ionic current within the neurons of the brain. In clinical contexts, EEG refers to the recording of the brain's spontaneous electrical activity over a period of time, as recorded from multiple electrodes placed on the scalp. Diagnostic applications generally focus on the spectral content of EEG, that is, the type of neural oscillations (popularly called "brain waves") that can be observed in EEG signals.

Diatoms are algae with distinctive, transparent cell walls made of silicon dioxide hydrated with a small amount of water. Silica is the main component of glass and hydrated silica is very like the mineral opal, making these algae, often called "algae in glass houses".

Diatoms are also unique to each body of water.

Note: I didn't have to look that up. When you watch the Science channel, and the Discovery channel, like the geek I am, you learn stuff.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Warning: Tissue and fluff alert.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 38**

 **Unknown Location**

The tall man entered the room wearing an aura of confidence, and superiority around him, gratified when the others deferred to him. Most gave the impression of mentally groveling at his feet, while others held their heads proudly erect. Not as if they were equals, which they weren't and never would be, but in the manner of subjects paying respect to their king.

In a manner of speaking, yes, he was their supreme ruler, elevated to the position by those who'd gone before, the trailblazers. The men and women who had taken their fight underground, waiting, watching, and biding their time, growing stronger with each passing year. One day soon, they would rise up, and take their rightful place in the world, holding dominion over those who didn't know what was best for them. And he would be there to see it happen.

He leaned down to look into the face of the new Asset. "We'll need his talents in the near future. Society has nearly reached their tipping point."

"And you need him to push it over. Understood." The doctor drew the other man's attention to the plasma screen on the wall. Several videos played at once, showing the Asset performing various combat exercises and training, and in the middle of it all, he was seen performing his assigned tasks of removing several obstacles to HYDRA's plan.

To his left, the female doctor inhaled sharply, and looked away when the Asset knock a young girl unconscious, and put her back in the driver's seat of the vehicle. He then placed a gun in her hand, touched the muzzle to her temple, and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains spattered over the interior, some of it getting on the Asset, though he didn't notice or seem to care.

Across the bottom of the video scrolled the words, _Adele Cohen._ _Target sanctioned._

The female doctor turned and walked quickly to the exit, and was gone. He didn't know what was wrong with her, or care what her name was as long as she continued to perform as she had in the past.

The lead doctor shrugged one shoulder. "She has always had a weak stomach for the things we do. I only keep her around because she's a brilliant scientist, and researcher."

"Of course. When will the Asset be ready for his next assignment?"

"Not for a couple of weeks. His body must heal first. Then there is the training that must be completed. A month at the most."

The man nodded, and headed for the exit. "You've done well, doctor, and will be rewarded for your allegiance to HYDRA."

His "Thank you, Secretary Pierce" was cut off by the slamming of the door.

Alexander Pierce was met at the main entrance by one of his underlings. Jasper Sitwell held a high-ranking position within SHIELD that gave HYDRA access to the world. HYDRA was patient. Hadn't they been lurking in the shadows for seventy years, waiting for their moment to shine again? That time was at hand. Project Insight would be completed soon, and it would be time to make their move.

Sitwell opened the back door of the limo. Pierce got in, and Sitwell joined him. The limo pulled away from the curb, and into the afternoon traffic.

~~O~~

… _We knew that it would only be a matter of time before the previous Asset broke free of his programming. Now you will be the new fist of HYDRA. Hail HYDRA!_

He listened to the others in the room echo his last words, but what did they mean? Who or what was HYDRA, and why would they need a fist? He curled his fingers in toward the palms, again examining the differences between them. Why did he have one made of metal?

Using his right hand, he dragged it up over the forearm causing the plates to shift, feeling a surge of power. Not much, but enough. When he reached the bicep, for some reason he saw a man flexing both arms and grinning at a young woman.

His questing fingers reached his shoulder. The skin around the edges felt tender, as if he'd been injured recently. If so, why didn't he remem… His thoughts stuttered to a halt, and in his mind he saw himself being pursued through the woods. Why were they after him?

The woman came to his side again, and pressed a bottle of thick liquid into his right hand. "Drink."

"What is it?"

Her eyes widened in alarm, but only for a moment, as if she hadn't expected him to speak. Then her mouth turned up on the sides in a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Nourishment. It will help your body heal from the surgery."

Surgery. That explained the metal arm, but not how he came to be here, or why he couldn't remember his name. "How did I get hurt?"

She looked away. No, she was looking at someone standing behind him, seeking guidance. Again, that uncomfortable smile. "You were in an accident." She touched his hand. "Now drink. You'll feel better."

For some reason, he trusted her more than the others also wearing white coats, and most certainly more than the men in black. There was something about them that didn't invite confidence in their presence.

Because he wanted to please the woman, he drank from the bottle. It tasted horrible, but he finished it down to the last drop. She took the bottle, and moved out of sight.

The other man came back, the one who seemed to be in charge, talking about him to a tall man with white hair as if he couldn't understand. How insulting! He listened a while longer, hearing the white coated man brag about how he orchestrated a scenario so that his family and friends would think he was dead, calling himself brilliant, a genius beyond compare.

They talked a while longer then tall man the walked away.

He couldn't remember his family except for vague images that flashed in his mind if he concentrated really hard. And that angered him, because he sensed that he had been close to his family. Now they would mourn his death, not knowing he was still alive.

When the pompous ass came close again, he reached out with that metal arm and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing until he heard a sickening crunch. The prick of a needle going into his right bicep caused him to open his metal fingers. The man fell to the floor as the others scurried around frantically. Hands held him down while others replaced the metal restraints over his wrists and biceps.

Soon, he became sleepy. Sound and light collapsed in on themselves until the only thing left was a single point of illumination in the center of his vision. Then it too winked out.

 **The Triskelion**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Bucky drove around to the side entrance and parked. No one got out, and he understood why. It had been the same when Connie died, and when Mia's mom passed. The only difference was the venue. On previous occasions, they'd done this at the hospital. This time, it was so much different. No parent should ever have to identify their child's body.

Natasha was waiting for them at the door with Chase. Bless her, she didn't try to rush them as some might have done, wanting it to all be over.

The front passenger door opened, and Joi got out. Steve climbed out of the back, holding his hand out for Carolyn while Martin came around to take his wife's hand. Joi slipped her hand into Steve's, and waited for her parents to make the first move.

Carolyn took a deep breath, and walked toward Natasha. Bucky thought they would hug, but his daughter could barely contain her emotions at this point, and Natasha understood. She held the door, and followed the older couple in. Joi and Chase stuck close to their parents. Steve hung back, walking beside Bucky, both with their hands shoved in their pockets until they reached the lifts.

On the second floor, Natasha's friend, Bruce, met them outside a set of glass doors. Bucky didn't want to think what might be inside, but it was hard not to, considering the reason they were here.

The introductions were made, and Bruce escorted the Barnes/Lockwood family to a small private room. Standing in front of Carolyn and Martin, he paused before setting a box on the table. "We need you to identify a few items that were found in the woods near your son's SUV."

Over the course of the next half hour, Carolyn, Martin, Joi, Chase, and Bucky identified Justin's wallet, watch, sneakers, and several items of shredded and bloody clothing, as well as going over the events of the last time they'd seen or spoken to him. Through it all, Carolyn kept it together, making Bucky more proud of her than ever.

Bruce placed the bags back in the box and stood. "You don't have to do this next part, Ms. Lockwood. It's just a formality."

She gripped Martin's hand, glanced at Bucky, and sat up straighter in her seat. "No, I-I want to. Have to. He's my son."

He nodded, and took out a remote. The plasma screen on the table came on, showing a woman in scrubs and latex gloves standing next to a table covered by a sheet. "They're ready, Adira."

The woman took hold of the top corner of the sheet, and lifted it to reveal the arm that had been found in the ravine by Rosado. It lay palm up so that the tattoo on the wrist could be seen. Apparently, seeing the evidence with her own eyes was too much for Carolyn. She sniffed, and her silent sobs were heartbreaking. Martin, Chase, and Joi held her close, Joi looking at Bruce over her father's head. "Yes, that's him."

Kneeling beside his family, Bucky wrapped them in his arms. "Bruce, what happened to…" He couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't want to.

Reluctantly, Bruce glanced at the door where Natasha and Steve waited. Knowing her as he did, Bucky was certain she already had all this information, and chose to spare the family. While the act was compassionate, they all needed to know what had happened to Justin.

"The area where your grandson's personal items and the limb were found is home to black bears and other predators. He could've been carried off, or even…" Bruce stopped at the knock on the door. Bucky could see from his face that he hadn't wanted to do this at all, but he had for their sake. Bruce shut off the screen, and went to the door. "I'll leave you alone for a few minutes."

~~O~~

Leaning against the wall, Steve crossed his arms and ankles, wishing he could be in there for Joi and her family. He would get the chance soon, but this time was for them alone. Bruce came out, and went into the lab.

Natasha paced in front of Steve, turning sharply when the door opened, and Joi came out. She went into his arms, her head against his chest. "I'm dropping out of the show. I'll call Laz and Bella tonight."

"Why?"

"My parents need me, Steve. Someone has to tell the rest of the family, plan the memorial service, the funeral, close up his condo, find Frankenstein a home. Mom and Dad shouldn't have to do it alone. I'm the oldest. It's my responsibility."

Steve held her away from him so he could look into her eyes. "Just because Justin's gone, you shouldn't give up your life. He wouldn't want it, and no one expects you to."

"You think so?"

He smiled. "I _know_ so. Life has to go on, and your brother would be the first to say so."

The door opened, and the family filed out. Natasha hugged Bucky, they spoke softly for a while, then he, Steve and Joi left the building together.

"Where are Serenity and Collin?" Steve asked as he held the door to the parking lot open.

Chase answered, "They wanted to come, but Collin's been sick. Serenity stayed to take care of him. I'll stop on the way home, and talk to them." His hands went into his pockets. "Someone has to take over at Tunnel Vision. That's me. I know almost as much about his business as he does… did. Man, I'm never gonna get used to him being gone. Since the day of conception, the only time he and I didn't see each other or at least talk on the phone for more than a week or so was when we left for college. And even then we kept in touch by text and email."

"Did he have a will?" Joi asked, curious. "Any idea what kind of funeral he would want?"

Her brother shook his head. "Nothing about the funeral, but he did have documents drawn up giving me a sort of partnership in the club. That way, if he had to be gone for any length of time, I would be there to handle the hard decisions. Told me to trust his manager, Alex, if I had any questions."

Bucky honked to let Steve and Joi know they were ready to go. Chase glanced over his shoulder, and back. "I could give you a ride, if you want. Let the folks be alone for a bit."

"My car's at Gramps' house. He'll probably stay with Mom and Dad for the night. Steve?"

"Sure."

Chase tossed his keys and caught them, just like Justin always did. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Steve put Joi in the shotgun seat, and took the back for himself. "I'm sorry this was so hard on everyone, Chase. And I can understand you not wanting to hang around afterward. It was the same when my mother passed."

The younger man sighed, and pushed a hand through his hair. "That's only part of it. I don't want break down in front of witnesses."

"Understand that too. If it wasn't for Bucky, I'd've cried like a baby all the way home after the funeral."

Joi turned in her seat. "What did Gramps say that was so pithy?"

"When I told him I could get by on my own, he said, 'The thing is you don't have to, 'cause I'm with you till the end of the line.' Just remember that, Chase. We're all with you till the end of the line."

His eyes dropped to his lap, and both hands gripped the steering wheel. "Now I really _am_ gonna cry."

~~O~~

After dropping Steve and Joi off at his grandfather's house, Chase stopped at Java Junction to pick up a couple of coffees on his way to Rey's studio. A class was just letting out. He stood out of the way until only Rey and one of her instructors were left.

He watched her pat her face and neck with a soft towel, pick up her water bottle, and head for the office. Unless she was working on the books, or making calls, she left the door open. He tapped on the jamb to get her attention. "Chase. Come in."

The look on her face changed from curious to downcast when he closed the door, and handed her one of the coffees. "We identified Justin's body today. Or rather what's left of it."

She sat down, staring at the top of the desk as she brought the cup to her lips for a sip. The cup was set aside. "How did it happen?"

"They're still not sure. His SUV was found, of all places, in Maryland, near the Appalachian Trail."

Rey's features pinched in confusion. "He hated the woods, and even if he did like going, why there?"

He shrugged, and sipped his coffee. "The authorities are still investigating."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Chase."

"You and he were dating, Celeste." Chase came around to sit on the corner of the desk. "It's your loss too."

One shoulder went up and down. "We were only together a few weeks, Chase. It's not like we were in love."

"Really?" His tone said he thought otherwise.

"Heavily in _like_ , maybe. But not in love, even though he's the only guy I've ever brought home that Cleopatra liked."

Rey stood up, and drew Chase into her arms, squeezing tight. "Justin's always been good with animals and kids. Gracie thought he hung the moon _and_ the stars. Still does, even now that Steve's here. Our cousin's kids think he's tops."

She pushed out of his arms, and he was glad to see a smile on her face. "Charmed my staff too. Including Drago and he's not easily impressed by _anyone_ , male _or_ female."

"He not only got all the creative talent in the family, he was also blessed with more charisma in his little finger than most people have in their whole bodies." They fell into silence for a while, each wrapped up in their own memories of Justin. "I, uh, I'll be taking over the night club, which means I'll have to hire someone to help out with _my_ business."

"You'll go great." Rey gripped his hand where it lay on his thigh, and gave it a squeeze. "Let me know when the service is, and I'll be there."

They hugged again, and Chase left Rey to take in the fact that the man she'd been dating had died under mysterious circumstances. He felt sorrier for his friend than himself. He'd had Justin around from the beginning. Rey had only really known him a little more than a month. Not to mention that, until they met, his twin had declared himself happily gay as of their fifteenth birthday. Never mind that he occasionally slept with a woman. _Guess that made him bi instead of gay. Whatever_.

Chase got into his car, and headed for Tunnel Vision to break the news to his brother's employees.

By the time he got to his condo, the urge to cry had lessened somewhat. He didn't normally indulge in alcohol due to not being able to get drunk, but tonight, he needed it. Going to the stash he kept for guests, he pulled out the Jack Daniels, turned on the most recent _Fast and Furious_ movie, kicked back on the sofa, and drank the entire bottle.

 **March 1** **st**

 **The Following Year**

The warmth of the day lingered, settling over the D.C. area like a prickly blanket, causing frayed nerves, and giving the towing companies a big boost in business.

The Barnes family gathered up the toys, and games, and leftover food from Bucky's back yard. The food was covered, and put in the refrigerator. The toys and games were taken to storage in the garage for the next family get-together. They closed the doors, and Bucky turned on the A/C, bringing relief from the unseasonably warm winter weather.

Chase got up in front of the family seated all around the room. He didn't want to do this, but it was necessary. They all deserved to hear Justin's last words, despite the wounds it would reopen.

"For as long as I can remember, Justin always took the stage at this time for the sing-a-long, or whatever other form of entertainment he'd planned for our birthday. I know we all miss him, especially, me, the one who spent nine months with his legs wrapped around my neck." He waited out the laughs. "All the way up to just a week before he, uh, we would get into a wrestling match-which I always lost. Of the two of us, he'd always been stronger, faster, and had more stamina. Whatever happened to him, I know he didn't go down easy." Chase paused, this time for reflection. He took the DVD from where he'd stashed it, holding it for all to see. "When I packed up his belongings, I took them to my place. Couldn't make myself go through them until last week when I found this. It's dated less than a week before Gracie's birthday party. Let's watch it together."

Using the built-in DVD player on the plasma screen, Chase started the video, and picked up the remote, using it to fast forward through his twin's fumbling with the video camera. Finally, Justin's smiling face filled the screen. In the background, they could see Bucky's home. Glancing left and right, Justin put a finger to his lips, keeping his voice low.

" _As you all know our Gramps is getting his fondest wish. Natasha has finally agreed to marry him. Getting her to say_ _da_ _was no mean feat, and now that she's going to officially be a member of the Barnes family, I'm making a video for the happy couple._ " Justin stepped outside, and one by one, he went to each member of the family, giving them as much time as they wanted to express their happiness for the couple.

After Gracie and Nicole had their say, the video suddenly cut off. When it came on again, they could see the walls of an unfamiliar room. While the first part had been wobbly as Justin walked around the yard, this section was steady, the camera sitting on a stationary surface.

" _Just in case the opportunity hasn't arisen for everyone to meet them, I'm taking this time to introduce you to the two new women in my life._ " Justin reached out, and pulled a pretty young woman into the shot.

" _Justin! No! This is supposed to be about your grandfather and his fiancée, not us_."

He tightened his arms, pulling her onto his lap. " _As writer, producer, director, and star of this production, I'll do whatever I please._ " The young woman had dark hair, and big green eyes. Even though they could only see her from the waist up, they could tell she was incredibly fit. " _For those of you who thought she was imaginary, or that I photoshopped her into the pictures on my phone, this is Rey._ " He picked up an enormous long-haired black cat. " _And this is Cleopatra. Rey is her human._ " He rubbed the cat under the chin, and her loud purr came through the video. Still petting the cat, Justin smiled into the camera." _It was our one-month anniversary a few days ago, and I wanted to do something special_."

Rey rolled her eyes, and put the cat on the floor. " _Oh, it was special all right. Karaoke at a_ _sports bar_."

Justin's affronted expression was greatly overplayed. " _They loved our rendition of_ _Pontoon_."

She grudgingly agreed. " _You got me there. That guy in the purple cowboy hat even bought us drinks afterward._ " The group chuckled when Rey's hand went around Justin's neck to play with his long hair. " _Had our first fight that night._ "

His head bobbed back and forth. " _It wasn't a fight, per se. More of a difference of opinion. Though, in the end, I did admit you were right. Who knew you could make Margaritas with Jack Daniels, and they'd actually taste good?_ "

He reached out of frame, and came back holding a stuffed bear dressed in leggings, and a leotard. " _Don't forget your anniversary gift_."

" _Never. You went all the way to the Build-a-Bear store to get it. That means_ _I_ _won_."

Justin's expression changed, softened into something like affection. He leaned close, their lips almost touching. " _You always win_."

They kissed, and Justin leaned Rey back until they fell out of sight of the camera. The assembled group heard distinctly feminine giggling, and Justin's hand came up, feeling around until he shut off the camera.

The screen stayed dark for a short while then Justin came back on, smoothing the hair out of his eyes. " _Note to self: edit that last part out before showing it to the fam_." Rey came back into the frame, kissed Justin, waved good-bye to the camera, picked up Cleopatra, and went down the hall out of sight. " _Rey Medina and Cleopatra, everyone. Aren't they adorable? Okay, let's get back to the reason for this video: Nat and Gramps._

" _Nat, I could tell from the moment we met that you loved Gramps._ _You_ _may not've been aware of it yet, but_ _I_ _saw it. So did everyone else. Why do you think Mom was such a PITA about the two of you living together? You look at him the way a redneck looks at a new hunting rifle. The way Chase looks at new tech,_ _and_ _my bartender, Brittany. The way Gracie looks at Horatio. The way Joi looks at Steve, and vice versa._

" _You are destined to be together, for now and always. Audrey Hepburn said, 'The most important thing is to enjoy your life, to be happy, it's all that matters.' And she's right. So don't keep putting it off. Get 'forever' started as soon as possible, because you never know what'll happen. We're not guaranteed tomorrow, so live for today._ " He blew a double kiss at the camera. " _Love all of you lots, and lots. Now let's plan this wedding!_ "

 **TBC**

 _The Fast and the Furious_ (also known as _Fast & Furious_) is an American franchise including a series of action films, which center on illegal street racing and heists, and various other media portraying the characters and situations from the films.

 _Pontoon_ is a song recorded by American country music group Little Big Town, released in April 2012.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 39**

Chase pulled into the parking spot next to Rey's car, turned off the engine, and just sat there holding onto the steering wheel. In with the DVD he'd shown the family was one with his name on it, and another that simply said, "Rey". He thought about watching it, but that would've been an invasion of both their privacy, and he could never disrespect his friend or his dead brother that way. He also didn't want to give it to her, fearing what it might say. Though knowing Justin, it could be a break-up, except he'd never break up with someone via video, a confession of undying love, him singing a goofy song, or just him playing that longhair music he liked.

This wouldn't get any easier with him sitting in the car. Chase got out, tugged his jacket into place, and walked to the door. He knocked, and waited. A shadow passed over the peephole, and he knew Rey was surprised to see him.

She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder, and stepped out onto the stoop. "Chase. What's going on? You usually call before coming over."

"Sorry. I was close by, and didn't think you'd mind." Chase shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling the shape of the DVD case. "I was going through Justin's things I've had stored for almost a year, and found this." He handed her the case. "I have no idea why he made it or what it says. But I thought you should have it."

Celeste took the case, holding it by one corner as if it were contaminated. "Thanks. Do you want to come back later, and we can look at it together?"

"I have to get back to the club. Big birthday bash for some entitled rich kid just turning twenty-one. And as much as they're paying us, they can have almost anything they want." As always, Chase leaned down to kiss his friend on the cheek, and for some reason, this time it felt awkward. Probably the subject matter.

"Have fun. We'll do lunch next week."

He smiled with a touch of sadness for both of them. "Looking forward to it."

~~O~~

Rey closed the door, and stood holding the DVD Chase had given her. Though he still held a special place in her heart, she'd let Justin go months ago. Did she really want to dig up those memories again?

The bathroom light flicked off, and the door opened. Rey quickly shoved the flat plastic case out of sight behind the cushion of the armchair, and pasted on a smile for her guest.

"Who was at the door, Cellie?"

She resisted rolling her eyes at the awful nickname Delmar had given her. They'd only been dating a couple of weeks, hadn't even slept together, and for good reason. He'd seemed charming at first. But the better she got to know him, less and less she found his quirks endearing. It had been just the opposite with Justin. _He_ had such a delightful personality that Rey could never be sad around him.

Putting on a smile, and ignoring the part of her brain that continuously made comparisons between Delmar and Justin, with Del coming up short, Rey lied to his face. "Wrong door. Sorry to do this, Del, but I'm not feeling well. Let's reschedule for next week."

Under his calm exterior, she could see he was angry, and it showed in his voice. "Reschedule? What the _hell_? You led me to believe we'd be having sex tonight, and now you want me to _leave_?"

He reached out to hit her, and instinct took over. Rey grabbed his wrist with her right hand, and turned to face away from him, coming around and up to get him in the nose with her elbow. There was a sickening crunch.

Delmar screamed, and fell to his knees, one hand holding his nose, and the other on the floor, keeping him from falling on his face.

Rey faced him, both hands in the fighting stance she'd learned in self-defense class. "Get _out_. And if I ever see you again, you'll get more of the same. Don't know why I thought you were a good guy. You're nothing but a jerk."

Glaring at her over the hand on his face, Delmar stood, pointing a finger at her. "You're out of your ******* _mind_ if you think I'd ever have anything more to do with a crazy-a$$ b**** like you! No wonder you're almost thirty and still single, Cellie."

The door slammed behind Delmar, and Rey rushed to open it again. "And don't call me Cellie!"

She slammed the door, and engaged the locks, all three of them. Justin insisted she have more installed when her condo had been broken into while they were taking a three-day road trip to South Carolina. Thank goodness Cleopatra had been with them.

Going to the refrigerator, Rey took out a beer, twisted the top off, and drank half in one shot. Cleopatra meowed softly from the kitchen doorway, asking if it was safe to come out. "Don't worry, Cleo. He's gone, and won't be coming back." She picked the cat up, and carried her to the sofa. "Guess it's just you and me, girl. We don't need no stinkin' boys around anyway, 'cause boys have cooties." The cat pawed her on the arm. "You're right. We need a vacation. What say we take a road trip when Margo comes back from vacation?"

Cleopatra lay down beside her, rolled onto her back, and purred. Rey took that as agreement. She fished the DVD from behind the cushion, dropped it into the player, picked up the remote, flopped on the sofa, and pressed play.

 **The Barnes Family**

The happy couples did their best to proceed with Justin's request to find a date that worked for everyone. However, just a month after seeing the video, Joi got word that the cooking show, Rare Tastes, would be taken on the road, not just in the US and Canada, but also to Europe and Asia. They weren't due to leave until August, with plans to be gone for most of the next six months. The intervening months would be filled with planning and preparation. Not to mention immunizations, passports, clothes, sets, permits, and so forth. To Joi, the list seemed endless.

Joi asked Nicole, Mia, and Serenity to look after the café while she was gone, arranging to keep in touch by phone, email, text, and video chatting when necessary.

Steve, Natasha, Bucky, and Joi had talked it over several times, and agreed that there would be a double wedding in Bucky's back yard. Clint agreed to be Natasha's "maid" of honor, and had even planned the bachelorette party. Life continued to interfere, and they didn't want to rush the planning, so the date kept changing. In the end, they put it off for at least until Joi was on hiatus from the show. For Bucky and Natasha, it wasn't a big deal. They were already living together. The wedding would just make their relationship formal. But for Steve, who refused to move in with Joi until they were married, the waiting was torture.

Chase started dating the head bartender from Tunnel Vision, Brittany, and there was talk of moving in together. Brittany had just signed a new lease on her apartment, which wasn't up until the following March. Chase wanted to buy her out of her lease so they could find a place together _now_. They were still going back and forth on the issue months later.

All in all, life went forward for the families, with no major problems aside from being accosted by the paparazzi on the anniversary of Justin's disappearance.

Gracie's birthday came around again, and to the relief of the male members of the family, she chose a Star Wars themed party for her grand number five. Bucky and Steve went as Han Solo and Luke Skywalker respectively, with Natasha dressing as Chewbacca. Mia chose to come as the Emperor, and naturally, Gracie played the star as Leia. Chase wore his Obi-Wan Kenobi robes, exuding an aura of wisdom, while a life-size cardboard cut-out of Justin stood in the corner, dressed as Darth Vader. Joi sent a video Rome of Elyse, Frank, Laz, Bella, and herself in a lightsaber battle that delighted the girl to no end, and became a viral sensation.

Social media sites dedicated to conspiracy theories, and amateur detectives continued to contact the family requiring each and every one to have their number changed and made private more than once. That didn't stop some from getting the information, and when the harassing phone calls didn't stop, Natasha sent someone around to offer "discouragement" to stop them from asking questions that upset Carolyn, Martin, and Chase more than the rest. Joi was out of the state, and Serenity and Collin merely pretended not to understand when questioned by annoying reporters, especially the ones who used sign language.

A few hearty souls stuck it out, but eventually, they soon discovered that they were up against one of the most stubborn, and intractable families in D.C. Likewise, their attempts to find out where everyone lived proved futile as they'd taken care of that aspect many years ago. And if someone suspected they were being followed, they again called Natasha, and it was taken care of, quietly, and with all due haste.

Eventually, Steve and Joi, and Bucky and Natasha settled on May 2014 for their double wedding, while the show was on its summer hiatus. The couples relaxed and let Carolyn, Serenity, and Mia do all the planning, with occasional input from their "clients".

 **The Triskelion**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Late Summer 2013**

Cameron Klein repeated the analysis again, and found no change from the first ten times he'd done it. There was no mistaking the identity of the man holding a rifle in the background of the film he'd taken from the archives. He folded his hands, tapping the index fingers against his lips in thought.

If the information were made public, all history books currently in print would have to be recalled, corrected and reprinted costing the publishing companies _billions_. Websites-historical and conspiracy-based-would crash from the sheer volume of traffic. It would throw the US into turmoil, and a highly respected and decorated war hero would spend the rest of his life in a federal prison for committing one of America's most devastating crimes in the last century. Did he really want to be responsible for causing that much chaos?

The answer was not just no, but _hell_ no! He stared for a long time at the image on the screen, contemplating the ramifications of his decision.

Maybe he'd call Sharon, just for a second opinion. He dismissed the idea immediately. His cousin would insist he pass the information up the ladder, and let Hill and Fury deal with the fallout.

"Damn, Cam! You just _had_ to give in to your curiosity, didn't you?"

Cameron dragged the info he'd gathered into an encrypted folder on his laptop, leaving the video for last. Taking a deep breath, he decided to sleep on his decision. He closed the video, dragged it into the file, and added an additional few layers of encryption before shutting down.

Rubbing his hands over his face, and into his curly hair, Cameron let out a long breath, and went to get ready for bed.

In the morning, he remembered something he once heard, and it seemed to apply in this situation. The best way to keep a secret was to keep it to yourself. Second best was to tell one other person, _if you must_. There was no third best option. If he told another person, that person might be compelled to tell another, and so forth. Who knows what could happen if it got into the wrong hands?

Cameron put on his tie while waiting for the laptop to boot up. Once he made it through all the layers of encryption just to log on, he saved the file to a thumb drive then dragged it to the trash. But that wouldn't remove it from his computer. Just make it inaccessible by the average citizen. Good thing he was above average. Using a program he designed himself, he scrubbed the file from his computer, and shut down. Now what to do with the thumb drive?

He picked up his keys and jacket on the way to the door. As he set the alarm, and locked the front door, he got a brilliant idea: hide it in plain sight, so that's just what he did.

At the helicarrier, Cameron went through the security checks, and arrived at his workstation with minutes to spare, knowing that the info would be secure at least until he died. And now that he thought about it, he realized that there were more than a few people out there who would pay to have him killed rather than allow his revelation become public knowledge. As the day progressed, the weight of knowledge seemed to settle on his shoulders, making them ache. Perhaps hiding the evidence in plain sight wasn't such a good idea after all.

There was only one place he could think of that no one would look for the information.

On the way home, Cameron put the evidence in a yellow envelope, and scrawled instructions on the outside. He shoved the envelope into an overnight Fed-Ex envelope, sealed it, and left it at the only night drop in D.C. he knew didn't have a camera. Only then did he breathe easy.

 **Columbia, Washington**

 **The Barton Home**

"Mom! Mr. Finkle brought a package for Dad!"

Laura Barton came out of what used to be the formal dining room. Clint and his friends had remodeled it into a work/laundry area while she and the kids had been out of town visiting her half-brother. "Stop _shouting_ , Cooper. What've I told you about that?"

The boy handed over the package, shrugged and ran out the back door.

She and Clint often bought items over the Internet and had them delivered in lieu of driving to the next county, but Clint hadn't ordered anything recently. Certainly nothing he'd pay overnight delivery for. The senders handwriting wasn't familiar, and the name had to be fake: A. Nonymous.

Using a pair of scissors, Laura sliced open the end of the envelope, and dumped the contents on the counter. She picked up the smaller envelope, puzzled by the note scrawled on the outside.

 _To be opened_ _only_ _in the event of my death._

 _Cameron Klein_

Who was Cameron Klein, and why would he have reason to fear for his life? Clint was due home in a few days, and would probably have the answer. Whether he could or would share with her was another matter entirely. But she'd gotten used to it over the years.

Laura checked where the kids were before opening the floor safe in the laundry room. She dropped the envelope inside, closed the door, and locked it again. They had no worries that anyone would be able to break into it, as it was DNA, and fingerprint coded to her, Clint, and her half-brother only.

Getting to her feet, Laura returned to the work room and her current children's book based on Clint's "avenging". Her publisher wanted the manuscript within two weeks in order to get it on book store shelves, and online by Christmas.

 **Two Days Later**

Clint closed the rear hatch of the quinjet, hitched his bag on his shoulder and headed for the house. He aimed the remote over his shoulder, and the ship disappeared.

Man, it was good to be home after the long, and boring mission he'd just come off of.

He trudged down the path, over the cattle guard, past the pond, and through the yard, stopping to look up at the home he shared with his wife and kids. Funny how just standing there in the quiet of an August evening just melted the stress away.

Stomping his feet on the mat to remove the mud and dirt, Clint opened the front door, and stepped inside. "Honey? I'm home."

Laura came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. He dropped his bags on the sofa, and drew his wife into his embrace, planting a long kiss on her lips. She pulled back and touched his face with her fingertips. "Missed you. So did the kids."

"I missed all of you too. You're going to get tired of having me underfoot. Taking a month's leave." Clint skimmed his hands up and down her back, his voice going soft and affectionate. "We can get started on baby number three." He followed her into the kitchen, taking a bottle of root beer from the 'fridge. "Anything earth shattering happen while I was gone?"

"Lila lost another tooth, and the Tooth Fairy gave her a dollar for it, which she put in her piggy back with the rest." Laura set a plate on the counter while Clint got out sandwich ingredients. "Oh, and you got a package. I put it in the safe."

Puzzled, Clint glanced over his shoulder as Laura took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. "Package? I didn't order anything. And why's it in the safe?"

She leaned against the counter next to him with her arms crossed. "From the writing on the envelope, I figured it was important." Clint left his food, and went out to the laundry room. He came back in less than a minute, holding the yellow envelope. Laura looked over his shoulder. "You know him?"

He tapped the package against his palm. "Yeah. I do."

 **Unknown Location**

 **Late Summer 2013**

In an effort to shore up Dr. Zeya Utkin's confidence without having to worry about incompetence from someone less skilled, Secretary Pierce ordered that she be given the position recently vacated when Dr. Popov was killed. The Asset seemed calmer around her than any of the male doctors, and Zeya wasn't sure why. She was in her late fifties, grey haired, and plain. Had been, even in her youth. Absolutely not the kind of woman men of any kind fell for. Perhaps he saw her as a sort of mother figure, or sensed that she had chosen the wrong side in this war that would literally bring the world to its knees.

Colonel Rybakova made her nervous, but she refused to let him see. Instead, she concentrated on the program that would be fed into the Asset's brain, a stronger, and more permanent form of post-hypnotic suggestion using torture to ensure compliance. "It's done, Colonel. Ready when you are."

He came to her side, hands behind his back. Without waiting for him to give her the go-ahead, Zeya turned on the immersion chair, tapped a command, and watched as the gear lowered into place on either side of Asset's head. It closed with a snap, clamping itself against his temples, and over his forehead. Closing her eyes, she entered the last command as Rybakova brought a red cloth-covered book from behind his back. The tome had a faded black star on the front, and the edges were worn, and fraying. He flipped the pages until he came to the one marked with a torn piece of paper.

Zeya chanced a glance at the book. The ink was new, and not faded like on the opposite page. Naturally, the old trigger words would only work for the one for whom they were meant. Rybakova shifted his feet. "Begin the indoctrination procedure."

 _You mean torture_ , Zeya whispered in her head. There had to be something she could do to stop her superiors from inflicting agony the young man in her charge. From what she'd read in his file, he had been loving and kind, seldom lost his temper, and had been quite close to his family. To take that away from him…

"Doctor?"

"Sorry, Colonel." Her finger hovered over the key that would activate the sequence. She said a silent prayer for forgiveness, and pressed the key. Electricity surged through the Asset's body, causing him to scream in pain as Rybakova walked around him, reciting the list of words over and over.

" _Boynya_ … _Udary_ … _Syem_ … _Dyshat'_ … _Derevnya_ … _Peshchera_ … _Solnechno_ … _Ekho_ … _Dvoynik_ … _Dusha…_ "

Rybakova paused when the Asset's eyes rolled back in his head, and his body convulsed as if he were having a seizure. Zeya checked his vital signs, relieved to see they were within normal parameters for his unique physiology.

Again, the military man recited the trigger words. " _Boynya_ … _Udary_ … _Syem_ … _Dyshat'_ … _Derevnya_ … _Peshchera_ … _Solnechno_ … _Ekho_ … _Dvoynik_ … _Dusha…_ "

Each time he paused, Zeya got the feeling he was waiting for some reaction other than screaming, showing no reaction to the torment. For her, it was a sound she would hear in her sleep for a long, long time.

" _Soldat?_ " There was no response other than the clenching of his fists, and the muscles in his arms and legs contracting with each jolt of electricity. Rybakova shook his head, and began again. " _Boynya_ … _Udary_ … _Syem_ … _Dyshat'_ … _Derevnya_ … _Peshchera_ … _Solnechno_ … _Ekho_ … _Dvoynik_ … _Dusha…_ "

This went on so long, that Zeya was close to the point where she would rather have the colonel put a bullet in her brain than continue to listen to the Asset's torment.

Then it happened.

" _Boynya_ … _Udary_ … _Syem_ … _Dyshat'_ … _Derevnya_ … _Peshchera_ …" Rybakova stopped in front of the Asset as he recited the final words. " _Solnechno_ … _Ekho_ … _Dvoynik_ … _Dusha…_ "

This time, the Asset's eyes became devoid of emotion making him appear empty. He looked from Rybakova to Zeya and back, staying focused on Rybakova when the colonel said, " _Soldat_?"

At the colonel's nod, Zeya and her assistant, Dr. Burian Volkov, released the restraints, and moved the gear out of the way. The Asset's chest rose and fell quickly. If he didn't calm down soon, he could hyperventilate.

Slowly, the Asset pushed to his feet, arms hanging at his sides.

" _Soldat_?"

The Asset took a deep breath, and let it out. " _Ya gotov otvechat'_."

 **TBC**

Brittany - Head Bartender at Tunnel Vision (No description as yet. Suggestions?)

Margo - The manager at Rey's Pilates studio

Dr. Zeya Utkin - Replaced Dr. Popov as head of the Winter Soldier program

Dr. Burian Volkov - Dr. Utkin's assistant

Polkovnik (Colonel) Rybakova - Russian Army, military head of the Winter Soldier program, the Asset's handler

Senior Technician Cameron Klein - You _know_ who he is. ;-)

The previous list was for recalling the Asset. This is the list of trigger words.

 _Boynya_ = Shambles

 _Udary_ = Pounding

 _Syem_ = Seven

 _Dyshat'_ = Breathe

 _Derevnya_ = Village

 _Peshchera_ = Cave

 _Solnechno_ = Sunny

 _Ekho_ = Echo

 _Dvoynik_ = Doppelganger

 _Dusha_ = Soul

 _Soldat_ = Soldier

 _Ya gotov otvechat'_ = Ready to comply


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Note:** I realized that the time table was all out of whack, so I've taken steps to fix it. Please go back and re-read chapter 39 (the second half), or chapter 40 won't make any sense.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 40**

 **Unknown Location**

 **Late Summer 2013**

Rybakova and the Asset were of a similar height, and body type, though the Asset had been designed to be faster, stronger, and to heal at a greatly accelerated rate. He'd been trained on a large variety of weapons, and in hand-to-hand. They taught him to blend in with his surroundings, and had conditioned him not to speak unless it was necessary.

Though Rybakova was fluent in a number of languages, to assert his dominance, he would speak only Russian within the Asset's hearing. To do so could lead to unwanted complications with the indoctrination. He had been difficult to brainwash and condition, even more so than the original Asset. Their mistake had been allowing James Barnes to remain in his original persona while still providing services to the cause. With the level of technology they'd reached in cryogenics, it would be a simple matter to place the Asset in a cryochamber in between missions, removing the need for reinforcement of the brainwashing with post-hypnotic suggestions.

The Asset's physicality had been enhanced in the past several months due to a serendipitous leap forward in what the Americans called the super-soldier formula. It was now closer to what the traitor Erskine had used to create Captain America. Zola had been close at the time of his death in the seventies, and had died before his research was complete. Because Zola kept most of his notes in his head, and encrypted the rest, no one had been able to pick up where he left off, until recently.

Rybakova picked up a file and handed it to the Asset. He stared into the distance for some time then at the folder before taking it.

"Confirmation of death within forty-eight hours." There was a long pause, and he thought the Asset might refuse. But he needn't have worried. "Sanction. No witnesses. Make it look like an accident. When the mission is complete, return to the drop-off point."

" _Budet sdelano_." The Asset opened the file, and on the first page was a dossier on the target, Michael Jabari, a field news anchor with TENA, The Egyptian News Agency. He had been digging into certain events, and was dangerously close to exposing HYDRA's operation. Rybakova's superiors could not allow interference in their master plan. They hadn't survived this long by being careless. Jabari had to go, and because he hadn't shared the names of his contacts with anyone, the story would die with him. When their local contractor called in an anonymous tip that Jabari was using illegal drugs, the cocaine and heroin stashed in his home would call his credibility into question, especially when the autopsy showed his death in a car accident was due to his clandestine affiliation with those who shipped the drugs into the country.

The Asset turned the pages so quickly Rybakova barely registered each one, though he knew all of the information would be committed to memory. Another reason this particular individual had been chosen was due to his ability to absorb and retain information quickly.

The file was returned, and the Asset awaited further instructions. Rybakova handed him clothing that would help him blend in with the locals. The Asset changed then and there, uncaring that he was being watched. Without being told, he picked up the weapons lying on the table, stashing each one out of sight. He put on the mask, and activated the mesh that would adhere to his features. Blue eyes changed to brown, and the tone of his skin darkened so that he now resembled a resident of Egypt.

Motioning to the STRIKE team, Rybakova told them to follow the Asset. The team leader sent the others to the plane. "Orders, sir?"

"Give him room to work. Keep watch, and record his actions. This is his first major sanctioning. One that will make news around the world. We have to prove to the Secretary that the new program is working perfectly, or he will authorize the activation of another Asset, and we will all likely be sanctioned."

 **Forty-Two Hours Later**

Team Leader Dedov brought up the rear stopping beside Rybakova. The Asset removed the mask, and all weapons, laying them neatly on the table, and waited as he'd been trained to do.

Dedov handed Rybakova an SD card with a smile. "He performed admirably, Colonel. Better than we could've hoped. The target was sanctioned with minimal disruption to the public, and the incriminating evidence has been planted in the subject's home and office. There were no witnesses. And the local police have already begun their investigation into his personal activities."

Rybakova inserted the card into a reader, and enabled the video playback, nodding with satisfaction. "Excellent. The Asset will be returned to the cryochamber to await his next mission. You've done well, Dedov."

" _Spasibo_ , Colonel." He hesitated then pushed ahead with his question. "There's talk about this newest Asset, sir."

Hands behind his back, Rybakova tilted his head down, staring at the man over the top of his glasses. "What kind of talk?"

To his credit, Dedov wasn't intimidated. "That he is descended from the original."

"In this case, talk is truth. He is third generation. Of all his progeny," he nodded toward the Asset patiently waiting to be told what to do, " _he_ is genetically closest to the original even more his children. It was as if the gods themselves had created him to help make HYDRA's goals a reality."

"So he is…"

"…the grandson of James Barnes. Yes."

The colonel handed the Asset the clothing he wore while in the cryochamber that would prevent damage to his exposed skin. The Asset changed clothes, dropping the discarded clothing on the table. Rybakova signaled to Dedov's team. To the Asset, he said, "You will go with these men."

The men surrounded him, and the Asset was escorted to the vast room holding several containment units. Only one was empty. As their preeminent Winter Soldier, the Asset was held in high esteem, and given only the most important, and sensitive issues to deal with. Replacing his flesh and blood arm with the metal proved to be the missing ingredient when increasing his strength. With the original, they used a metal sheath that fit over his own limb, and allowed him to deflect bullets, and some forms of electrical energy similar to the arc reactor in Iron Man's suit. Unfortunately, it could not withstand the full force of such a beam, not to their knowledge. However, no one was willing to lose the prototype in testing.

The Asset stood where the doctor indicated as she and her assistant fitted a protective mask over his face, and attached the tubes and wires that would monitor his condition while in the chamber.

The woman nodded, and her assistant stepped back. She activated the system, and the chamber came down to enclose the Asset inside. Only his head and shoulders could be seen through the window. The machine hissed, and a mist of cold air swirled around the figure, obscuring his features.

What they couldn't see, and wouldn't have cared if they had, was that just before the mist completely filled the chamber, the Asset reached out with his metal hand, silently imploring them to stop.

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The Triskelion**

His mind filled with the plans he'd made for the four-day weekend, Cameron Klein jiggled his keys as the waited for the lift to reach the parking garage. The door opened, and he exited, going straight to his car, an eco-friendly hybrid in a color of grey that didn't stand out from all the other vehicles just like it.

On the other side of the bridge, he stopped at the light, drumming lightly on the steering wheel to the beat of the song coming from the radio. He glanced in his rear view mirror, and for a moment thought he saw a familiar face. Certain he was seeing things, Cameron pulled through the light when it changed, and joined the traffic traveling southwest towards Annandale where he lived.

Cameron pulled into his assigned parking space, got out, used the fob to lock the doors, and whistled as he headed for the entrance. He'd only gone a few steps when the world suddenly went dark, and his hands and feet were tied. The world spun crazily as he was tossed over a shoulder, and a few moments later, he found himself in the trunk of a car.

It all happened so fast, he hadn't a chance to protest, or fight back. The trunk closed, boots thumped on the asphalt, a car door opened, and closed. The engine revved, and soon they were on the road.

With no reference for time, Cameron had no idea how long they'd been driving. All he knew was that the typical sounds of the city had given way to a quieter urban area. It eventually faded away, until there were hardly any sounds at all.

Eventually, the car stopped, and the trunk was opened. He was lifted out by a pair of strong hands and placed on his feet. The tie around his ankles was removed, and he was marched up a short flight of steps, and into an empty room. He knew it was empty because each footstep echoed. Then, he was forced to sit in a hard chair, and his wrists were released just long enough to be retied to the arms of the chair.

It was past time that he fought back. Unfortunately, his only weapon at the moment was his voice. "I don't know who you are, but…"

A foot was planted between his knees, and the chair tilted at a stomach churning angle. Cameron took the hint and shut up. The chair was dropped back onto all four legs, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Remembering what his cousin had taught him about turning anything into a weapon, Cameron bided his time, hoping he'd get a chance to put that advice to use. Not that he'd come out on top in a fight with experienced bad guys, or good guys for that matter, but he could at least try.

The hood was removed, and Cameron sat blinking in the light of a single lamp. A pair of booted feet walked around him slowly. Thump… thump… thump… They stopped in front of him, and the light was covered so he could now see his abductor.

"Agent Barton? What's going on? Where am I?"

" _I'll_ ask the questions, and if I don't like the answers…" Barton shrugged nonchalantly as he reached behind him, and dragged a straight-backed chair around in front. In his right hand he held the yellow envelope Cameron had mailed a couple of weeks ago. "How did you know about Laura, and the kids? Fury kept it all off the books when I came to work for SHIELD."

"Well, that's a, uh, long story."

"Cliff note it."

Cameron moved around trying to get comfortable, but with Barton's unblinking gaze on him, his skin felt prickly. "I guessed."

That obviously hadn't been the answer the senior agent was expecting. "Guessed?"

"Whenever you went on leave, your flightpath was always to the west." He paused to get a read on Barton's state of mind then kept going. "Once a month, you submitted travel expenses, and the one state that wasn't represented was Washington. I figured that had to mean something, so I did a little digging, uh, on my own time, of course. No one at SHIELD knows that I found out about, well, them."

Barton flicked the envelope with a finger. "What's in this that you would take the risk of exposing my family to SHIELD's enemies?"

Sensing an implied insult, Cameron frowned. "The Fed-Ex account I used belongs to a dummy corporation whose ownership is so obscured by holding companies, and falsified identities, that there are only a few people out there, besides me, who would be able to untangle the mess." His companion held up the envelope again, silently asking about the contents. "Open it."

Barton ripped the end off, and tipped it over, dumping a round object attached to a hook into his palm. He held it up. One side was silver, and the other was painted red, white and blue with a silver star in the middle. "A Cap keychain?"

"It's not _just_ a keychain, Agent Barton. Turn it over." The agent did so, using his thumb to push the slide bar, showing the keychain to be a flash drive. Cameron tried to stand, forgetting for the moment that he was still tied up. "Can we take these off now?"

The snick of a knife came a heartbeat before the ropes were removed. He rubbed his wrists to restore circulation. "When something catches my interest, it nags at me until I've solved the mystery. In this case, it was that photo of JFK's assassination. The one taken across from the grassy knoll? All these years, that photo, and the Zapruder film, have been studied by experts. What none of them noticed is that one of the shadows _isn't_ a shadow."

Cameron had Barton, and they both knew it. His confidence retuned with a snap.

"What was it?"

"Get me a laptop, or a tablet, and I'll show you."

 **Two Hours Later**

Clint pulled into Klein's apartment parking lot, stopped by the entrance, and removed the bag over his head. "I'm trusting you to keep all this to yourself, Klein. If I hear a whisper of a rumor of a rumor…"

"You'll kill me, and no one will ever find the body. I got that the first half dozen times you said it."

The specialist opened the door, but before set more than a foot out, Clint grabbed his shirt sleeve. "You know what sort of chaos this would cause in the world if it got out." Klein nodded. "Then why keep it? Why send it to me?"

Normally, in the presence of the senior staff, Klein was nervous, and often stuttered. This time, he spoke with confidence, and assurance. In himself, and his abilities. "Because, aside from Director Fury, Commander Hill, and Agent Coulson, I trust you and Agent Romanoff more than anyone. I know that if something were to happen to me, if I were to die in what appeared to be an accident, the two of you wouldn't stop until you knew the truth." Clint, nodded, and removed his hand. Klein got out, closed the door, and bent down to lean on the open window. "And you can trust me to keep your secret, Agent Barton."

Klein backed up, turned and went into the apartment building without looking back.

Clint had always known that Klein had a sharp mind, and his fumbling ways had often been a source of amusement for the field agents. Now he didn't know what to make of the man. He'd solved one of America's greatest crimes of the last century, and couldn't tell a soul. And neither would Clint. The two of them would probably go to their graves as the only two people in history to know who really killed President Kennedy… and it _wasn't_ Lee Harvey Oswald.

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Spring 2014**

The sun was just coming up over the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool when Steve and Bucky arrived for their morning run an hour earlier than usual due to commitments elsewhere later in the day. They started off at, for them, a slow pace.

Up ahead, Steve saw the African-American man he'd seen here on numerous occasions, but hadn't had a chance to meet. He nudged Bucky, pointing his chin. "Wanna have some fun?"

Bucky grinned, and sped up, Steve easily keeping pace. As they passed the other man, the friends separated to go around him, Steve murmuring, "On your left," while Bucky said, "On your right."

Within seconds, they'd outdistanced him, and kept going until they came around for their next lap, saying, "On your left," and "On your right" again.

Behind them, they heard the man huffing slightly, muttering under his breath, "On my left and right. Got it." When they came around a third time, he sped up, calling out, "Don't say it! Don't you say it!"

Again, the friends passed him, "On your left," and "On your right," and soon left him in the dust once more. As they came around for their final lap, they found the object of their teasing sitting on the ground under a tree, breathing hard. Steve kept from grinning, barely. "Need a medic?"

Bucky pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the Smithsonian. "My assistant knows mouth-to-mouth."

"I need a new set of lungs. Dudes, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.

Holding in a smirk, Steve said, "I guess we got a late start."

The man eyes widened in surprise at Steve's joke. "Oh, really? You should be ashamed of yourself. Both of you. You should take another lap." He hesitated a moment, saying sarcastically, "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

Bucky pointed out the Army insignia on his shirt. "What unit are you with?"

"Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue." He stuck out his hand. "Sam Wilson."

Steve gave Sam a hand to rise. "Steve Rogers."

Bucky extended his hand. "James Barnes. Call me Bucky."

Hands on his hips, Sam nodded while looking around, still getting his breathing under control. "I kind of put that together." To Steve, he said, "Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

Conceding the point, Steve shrugged. "It takes some getting used to. It's good to meet you, Sam."

"Likewise, Sam," Bucky added, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "It was amazing getting my best friend back."

"How long were you in?"

Sam looked at the ground, his smile fading. "Two tours. Now I work down at the VA. You miss the good old days?"

Steve thought of Joi, and smiled. "Well, things aren't so bad. Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio is good. And the Internet's been so helpful in getting me caught up."

Sam held up a hand. "Marvin Gaye, 1972…"

Bucky brightened. "Trouble Man soundtrack? Marvin is an _amazing_ artist. Was." At Steve's silent question, Bucky explained, "He died in 1984."

"I'll add it to the list." Steve took out a small brown notebook, and made a notation. His phone vibrated. He looked at the screen, and showed it to Bucky. _Mission alert. Extraction imminent. Meet at the curb. :)_ Pointing at the smiley, he raised an eyebrow at the fact that a super-spy assassin would use emoticons. Bucky shrugged. Behind them, they heard the roar of a high-performance engine coming closer. "Alright, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run."

The men shook hands, Bucky smirking. "If that's what you wanna call running."

"Oh, that's how it is?"

Together, Steve and Bucky said, "That's how it is."

"Hey, Steve. Any time you wanna stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."

Nodding, Steve responded, "I'll keep it in mind."

Just then, Natasha pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window. _"_ Hey, fellas. Any of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a couple of fossils."

The friends shared a look, Steve was annoyed, and Bucky shrugged sheepishly. To Natasha, Steve said, "That's hilarious."

They walked over to the car. Steve got in the back and Bucky in the front next to Natasha.

Sam gave Natasha and her car an appreciative once-over, and grinned. "How you doing?"

Natasha responded to his mild flirtation with a bit of her own. "Hey."

Bucky shrugged, and grinned, leaning over to give her a lingering hello kiss. To Sam, he said, "You can't run everywhere."

Chuckling, Sam agreed, "No, you can't."

~~O~~

Natasha shifted into gear, and burned a little rubber pulling away from the curb. "Friend of yours, Steve?"

"New friend. Hopefully."

To Bucky, she said, "I'll drop you at the museum. We gotta jet. Literally."

"Sure you don't need an extra man? I'm handy with weapons, and can hold my own in a fight."

Before he finished, she was shaking her head. "Not this time, James. It's top secret, need-to-know."

"And because you're no longer in the Army, you don't need to know," Steve added.

The museum loomed in front of them, imposing from this angle. She turned the corner, and pulled to the curb near Bucky's SUV, and slammed on her brakes. Bucky opened the door, and had one foot out when Natasha grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her for a long, hot kiss. They parted, and she touched his cheek tenderly. "This won't take long. We should be back within a day."

Grinning, Bucky reminded them, "Good. Wouldn't want either of you to miss the wedding. Two weeks, guys. Be there, or be square."

Bucky got out, leaving the door open so Steve could move to the front seat. He climbed in, closed the door, and they sat there staring out the windshield for a long few seconds. Steve was the first to speak, his voice sounding far away. "We're getting married…"

"…in two weeks," Natasha finished for him.

"It's really happening, isn't it?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

There was another long pause then Steve pointed out, "We should go."

"Right."

 **On the Quinjet**

Natasha adjusted her gloves, snugging them into the spaces between her fingers. "You do anything fun Saturday night?"

Steve made a small eye roll. "Joy spent most of the evening in the bathroom while I watched a movie on television. When she came out, I was asleep on the sofa. So no. Not really."

She looked at him from under her lashes, seeing nothing in his face to indicate how he felt now that his wedding to Joi was about to become a reality. "You ready for this?"

He snorted. "Ready for it to be over."

"I meant the wedding."

"So did I." The back hatch opened, Steve checked his mask was secured, ran, and jumped out the back.

Rollins watched in awe. "Was he wearing a parachute?"

Rumlow shook his head and chuckled. "No. He was _not_."

 **Unknown Location**

" _Dobryy den', soldat_ ," Rybakova stated firmly, as if speaking to one of the Russian military.

As always, the Asset took a deep breath, and let it out. Each time he hesitated before speaking, Rybakova had the feeling that he was working out the logistics, and deciding if he would submit or reject his authority. Then he would say, " _Ya gotov otvechat'_."

He had not once attempted to run, or not returned to base after a mission. As far as Rybakova was concerned, that meant he was, in a way, fully committed to his role as the Winter Soldier.

Rybakova laid a thick file on the table. "Your next mission, _soldat_. Our leader requires confirmation of death within twenty-four hours. Do what you have to in order to make it a reality."

Again, the Asset stared into the distance for some time before picking up the file, and flipping through it. When done, he replaced it on the table. " _Budet sdelano_."

"Your weapons are waiting at the usual location." Rybakova gestured, and his usual back-up team came forward. "Go with them. When your mission is complete, returned to the plane. They will bring you here."

The team stepped forward, and the Asset made a perfect about face, walking in front of the group as if he were an American celebrity, and the team his bodyguards. Dr. Zeya Utkin watched the Asset go, and the sadness in her eyes would've made an impact on most people. But Rybakova was not most people. He made note of the fact that she didn't appear to believe in the cause, and would take steps to see that she became a true believer, or was replaced with someone who was.

Out in the hall, Rybakova waited for Utkin's assistant, Dr. Burian Volkov, to leave for the mess hall as he always did at this time, no matter what was happening, or how badly he was needed elsewhere. One reason he'd not been given the position over Utkin. However, that proclivity wouldn't stop him from performing a few simple tasks.

Volkov came out into the hall, and Rybakova fell into step with him. "I would like a few words with you, doctor."

"It will have to wait, Colonel. I must eat my meal in precisely," he checked his watch, "seven minutes, and forty seconds."

"You do not understand. It wasn't a request." Rybakova grabbed Volkov's arm, dragged him into an unused conference room, and locked the door. "My superiors have a special project for you. And before you decline, think about the consequences to yourself, and your family in Syktyvkar. Your father has been ill of late, correct?"

The young doctor looked frightened for a moment. "What has that to do with my work here?"

The colonel stood with his arms crossed, and feet shoulder width apart. "Nothing. Unless you make it so. There are certain things I want you to look for while working alongside Dr. Utkin."

"Such as?"

That was just the opening Rybakova had been hoping for. He smiled, and it was not pleasant.

 **TBC**

 _Budet sdelano_ = It will be done

 _Dobryy den', soldat_ = Good afternoon, soldier

TENA, The Egyptian News Agency has no affiliation with MENA. It is a figment of the author's imagination.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 41**

 **Unknown Location**

As soon as the door closed behind Volkov-he refused to allow _anyone_ to call him by his given name, Zeya opened the indoctrination program, and began typing as fast as her fingers would move. The changes she made to the program parameters were subtle. She doubted anyone who hadn't worked closely with it would notice a misplaced one or zero, or even several. That was, of course, a vast oversimplification of the work she and the others did here. Still, it worked as shorthand in her mind.

With these changes, the Asset would gradually become more aware of himself and his situation, while allowing him to still respond as expected, eventually leading to regaining his free will. All he would need was the right catalyst. A familiar voice, his former name spoken aloud, a particular smell. And once he'd become autonomous again, the trigger words would no longer affect him as they had. Zeya would have to make all of the changes by hand here at the source, and in stages, or risk causing a psychotic break in the Asset's inherent personality. She knew his name, the one given to him at birth. However, there was too great a chance for her to be found out if she used it within these walls. And if she were to call the Asset by that name in private, she could slip up, and use it in front of those she was attempting to subvert.

She wouldn't be able to stop Rybakova from sending him on missions, not for some weeks. For those who lost their lives before her plan was complete, Zeya would say a prayer every night before she went to bed.

Five minutes before Volkov was due back, you could set your watch by his comings and goings, Zeya saved her work, and removed all traces of her incursion. When he returned, Volkov peeked over her shoulder, snorting in annoyance at seeing her writing the weekly report. She ignored him, and he was soon gone from her personal space, off to do whatever it was the colonel coerced him into doing.

She finished the report, and sent it to her colleagues so they could add their observations, and comments on her theories, and conclusions. It would be in her box when she returned in the morning. And hopefully she wouldn't get a call from Rybakova during the night.

From what Secretary Pierce had said the last time he visited, HYDRA's plan would be ready to implement once Project Insight was fully operational. Unfortunately, it may come sooner than she expected, meaning she would have to accelerate her own plan, if she were going to put an end to their terrorist and subversive activities. HYDRA would not achieve world domination, now that she was in charge of the Winter Soldier program.

In her own mind, Zeya patted herself on the back for her foresight in making changes to the programming for the five other Winter Soldier candidates. It had been her input that had chosen the others. And she'd done so with a specific personality in mind, one that would be changed by the serum, but not in a way that would benefit HYDRA's schemes. The end result had been better than she'd hoped, though she still felt badly for the individuals who would be forever in cryosleep because they could not be controlled in the same way as the Asset. Their aggressiveness had been enhanced until they'd become mindless beasts, only capable of barreling their way through a situation instead of coming at it obliquely, subtly. For them, there was nothing that could be done, not at the moment. There would have to be many years of research in order to find a formula that would allow those in the older cryochambers to be awakened.

Zeya's stomach churned at the thought of what their superiors had done several years ago. They had the thought of using the failed experiments in games for the amusement of others, with the former Asset fighting them one or two at a time, just to see what would happen. Beta and Gamma had been pitted against the Asset, and together, they'd nearly killed the man. Then, when he was lying unconscious on the floor, in danger of bleeding to death, Beta and Gamma had fought each other. It had taken massive doses of tranquilizers to knock them out so they could be returned to their chambers. They had not been taken out since, and privately, Zeya believed it would be a mercy to put them out of their misery rather than leave them in this state.

 **The Next Night**

Moving with confidence, Zeya nodded to the guards with just the right about of disdain, and contempt for her inferiors. No explanations were necessary. She belonged here, even at this late hour.

She entered her code, and pushed open the door to what she privately called the vault, the room where the Asset was kept between missions. One hand was in her pocket, wrapped around two small devices that she'd programmed herself.

The computer powered up while Zeya peeked in through the small window even with the Asset's head. She moved a small step stool into place, and waited for the computer to tell her it was ready. In the meantime, she took another device from the other pocket and stuck it to the underside of the console. It would jam the cameras and make it appear as if everything were normal. Ironically, she'd purchased it from the Internet for a small fee due to it being considered nearly obsolete Stark Industries tech.

Once she was sure the jammer was working, Zeya would begin this step of her plan. For the next few minutes, she typed randomly at the keyboard to make it look to the casual observer that she was working. When five minutes had passed, she got on the step stool, and entered the code to open the chamber's window. The devices she took from her pocket were identical to those used to monitor the Asset's brainwaves. She only need switch them out.

"This will hurt, _malenkii_ but it can't be helped, not if you want to return to your family. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to create the program. I had to make certain that it would have the desired effect, and not cause more problems for you than it solves." Zeya affixed the reprogrammed sensors to his temples, taking great care that they were in the exact same place as before. "I never had a child, though I would like to think I'd have made a good mother, and that he would look somewhat like you. He would be strong in body, with a sharp mind, and a personality that ensured he would be loved by all who met him. He would have no enemies, and no one would be a stranger. Only friends and friends he hasn't met yet. Perhaps we'll meet some day, you and I, once you've regained your former life, and you can tell me your opinion."

Though she knew for a fact that she was alone, Zeya still glanced over her shoulder, and probably would for the rest of her life. The air from the open window stirred the hair that hung down past his chin, and Zeya gave into an impulse to brush those hairs back, and lightly touch his cheek as one would her own child. "Privately, I think of you as the son I never had, and hope that you do not mind."

She closed the window, and came off the stool. The jammer couldn't be left in place, or it would be found. Once the computer was powered down, she pocketed the device, as well as the monitors she replaced. Those she would dispose of by smashing them to bits with a hammer, and drop the pieces in a nearby river while the tide was going out.

 **The Barton Farm**

"He _guessed_?"

Laura's voice rose up at the end, and Clint knew she was thinking the same thing he'd been when Klein told him how he found out about his family. Apparently, always taking a westward flightpath, and his reimbursement receipts were only the _tip_ of the tip of the iceberg. Not long into Klein's horribly detailed explanation, Clint's eyes had glazed over, his brain went numb, and he could no longer feel his ears. When he nearly dozed off, he put a stop to it.

Clint grabbed a root beer from the 'fridge, twisted the top off, and leaned against the counter with his ankles crossed. "There was a lot more to it, but I stopped listening when I stopped understanding what he was saying." He took a drink of the root beer, and glanced at the label. "Less than five minutes."

"And you're _sure_ he won't tell anyone?"

"As I can be, without the two of us being joined at the hip day and night for the rest of our lives, or having him killed." He put the bottle aside, and took Laura in his arms as she passed. "One of the people I trust most in this world vouched for him, Maria Hill." His wife leaned into him, and Clint pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Try not to worry about it. Don't forget, I've taken precautions."

She nodded, and laid her head on his shoulder. "I just hope we don't need them."

"Yeah. Me too." Clint smiled fondly. "Brace yourself. I'm about to say those three little words you long to hear."

He felt her smile against his neck. "Mmm. Can't wait."

"Let's eat out."

Laura leaned back so she could see his face. "You know just what to say, honey."

"I had a good teacher, babe. You."

 **The Next Morning**

 **Washington D.C.**

The Asset stood in the middle of the street, watching the battered SUV barreling toward him. He raised the mine launcher, and fired. The mine skimmed over the asphalt, and magnetically attached itself to the vehicle's undercarriage.

The explosion flipped it onto its roof, skidding down the street toward him. The Asset casually stepped out of the way, and when it came to a stop, all the windows had been shattered, and the occupant lay on what was once the ceiling. His mission parameters whispered through his head in the handler's voice.

 _Our leader requires confirmation of death within twenty-four hours. Do what you have to in order to make it a reality_.

As the Asset approached the vehicle, the target's single eye stared out at him, not with fear as many had in the past, but with defiance. It would do no good for him to fight back. The Asset had never failed in his assigned task.

He ripped the door off, and flung it away, preparing to finish sanctioning the target, and return to base. However, the vehicle was empty, and in his place, a hole had been carved through to the sewer. The Asset dropped down, and slithered into the hole, landing in the calf deep water with a splash. Small furry creatures squealed in fright as he splashed through the sludgy flow, and debris.

At the junction of four tunnels, the Asset could hear the echo of stumbling footsteps and panting, but was unable to tell which access they were coming from. Then, they stopped. He listened, but they didn't continue.

In his ear, the Asset heard the team leader issue an order. " _Peregruppirovyvat'_."

Leaving his task unfinished, he returned the way he'd come, climbed up the ladder, and used his metal arm to push the vehicle out of the way so he could get out. The destroyed vehicle flipped onto its side, the front end on fire, and spewing fluids. It slid into a row of parked cars and exploded, setting them all on fire.

A larger vehicle screeched to a stop within a few feet. One side of the rear doors opened. The Asset jumped inside, and the door enclosed him and the others in dim light. There were men sitting on benches along both sides of the back. The ones on the right scooted over to make a space, and he sat down. Two other men held out their hands, and he obediently placed his weapons in their possession. What they didn't and couldn't know was that he'd kept the knives in his boots,

For the remainder of the ride, the Asset sat staring at the floor with his hands on his knees, not speaking or looking at the others as he'd been ordered. _Do not speak to the others except about the mission, and do not make eye contact. Speak only Russian_. He didn't know who had told him this, only that the voice was female.

Before long, the vehicle came to a stop. The man in charge opened the doors, and jumped out. " _Poydem so mnoy."_

The Asset lifted his head, staring straight ahead for a long moment before complying with the order. He returned to the big room with all the equipment, and waited to be told what to do. He was taken to the chamber that would enclose him inside, changed into the clothing he was given by one of the people wearing a white coat, and stood on the platform as directed.

The process was interrupted by one of the men the Asset recognized as part of the team who had been in the back of the truck with him. He spoke to the one in charge, and he in turn spoke to the woman who always prepared him for the chamber. She looked over at him, and the Asset felt some small thing aside from the nothingness his mind descended into when not on a mission, but had no name for it. Hers was the voice, the one that told him to hide weapons, and to comply with all orders until the time was right.

"One of our teams has informed us that the target is still alive." To the Asset, he said, "Your mission is incomplete. Soon we will have a new location on the target, and this time, you _must_ have confirmation of death."

He passed over a file, no more than a single sheet of paper inside with only an address written on it.

The leader also handed him a pair of goggles, which the Asset put on after rubbing a black substance around his eyes to make the information displayed easier to see in the dark. This device had been used before, and he needed no instruction.

A different group of men and women were motioned forward. "Go with these people. Regroup at the appointed place when your mission is complete. Do not fail to sanction the target this time, or there _will_ be consequences, Asset."

" _Budet sdelano_."

The leader nodded, and the Asset fell into step with the team. Time had no real meaning for him aside from its relation to sanctioning a target, though it only seemed like a few moments until he exited the truck. Keeping to the shadows, he made his way to the roof of the building immediately adjacent to the address in the file.

He touched the side of the goggles, and the infrared display showed two heat signatures. One was standing, and the other sitting. When the second figure moved, the Asset could see a less warm area on the left side of his face. This was the target.

The Asset raised his weapon, specially made to penetrate wood, concrete, brick and mortar. He sighted on the figure, and when he moved from behind the object blocking that part of the signal, the Asset fired several rounds in rapid succession, and the target went down. The other figure knelt over him, and was joined by another, smaller figure.

Immediately, the other figure, the taller one, came after him. His orders were clear. Sanction and return. Eliminate witnesses. To him that meant to defend himself in any way possible.

The Asset jumped onto the roof of the next building, running along the parapet. Through the skylight, he could see the other man following, crashing through doors, sending papers and office equipment flying.

When he reached the edge of the roof, the Asset didn't even pause. He jumped onto the next building, dived into a roll, and back to his feet. He made it as far as the opposite side when he sensed something coming at him through the air.

He turned, his left arm coming up to catch a round object made of metal, painted red, white and blue. Cocking his arm, he threw the thing back with enough force that his pursuer was nearly knocked off the far side of the roof, giving the Asset plenty of time to get away now that his mission had been completed.

The Asset jumped to the ground, and disappeared into the darkness between two buildings. When he looked back, the other man was scanning the ground, unable to see him standing only a hundred yards away.

When the man was gone, he signaled. The truck came around the corner, and stopped. The Asset got in, divested himself of his weapons, again keeping one that they knew nothing about, and sat down on the bench as he was told, thinking about the man on the roof. Just for a brief moment, it seemed as if he knew him. Then the moment was gone.

Eventually, the truck stopped, and they all got out. The Asset was led through several rooms, and stopped in front of the people with the white coats. Standing next to them was the man he thought of as the leader. He handed over the goggles, and was escorted to the other room once again.

He changed clothes, and the chamber lowered over him. Cold air swirled around, chilling his skin, and making his scalp tingle. As always, he breathed deeply of the air coming from the mask, and began to feel drowsy. However, it didn't continue.

The chamber rose up, and the instruments, tubes, and wires attached to his body were removed. As far back as he could remember this had never happened before.

The leader came into the room, and handed him yet another file. "Two targets. Level six. Sanction and return. Use _any_ means necessary to complete the mission. You must not fail."

On the page were two names with photos attached, and a possible location for each. " _Budet sdelano_."

 **At the Hospital**

Still upset, angry, confused, and frustrated with the events of the last couple of days, Steve pulled the hood up on his jacket, and tried to look like he belonged. He took a handful of change from his pocket, and stopped in front of the vending machine, but the slot where he'd left the flash drive given to him by Fury was empty.

He felt someone come up behind him, and Natasha's reflection appeared in the glass. She blew a bubble, and let it pop. Steve waited until the corridor was clear then grabbed Natasha, and dragged her into a supply closet, demanding, "Where is it?"

"Safe."

He shoved the hood off so Natasha could see that he meant business. "Do better!"

She chewed the gum, giving him that stare. "Where'd you get it?"

After the last couple of days, Steve's patience was nearing its end. "Why would I tell _you_?"

Her eyes told him she'd made the logical leap. "Fury gave it to you. Why?"

He breathed to calm himself. "What's on it?"

Just for a moment, Steve thought she was telling the truth, then there it was, a brief flicker in her eyes that he associated with dishonesty. "I don't know."

Had Natasha considered lying, and changed her mind, or was she lying now? Grabbing her shoulders, Steve bounced her against the wall. "Stop lying!"

Holding in a snort, Natasha took his anger and impatience in stride. "I only _act_ like I know everything, Rogers."

Noise in the hall drew Steve's attention for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder, and back to Natasha. "You knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?"

Her jaws stopped moving in surprise. A sliver of pride stiffened his fingers on her arms that he'd been able to catch her off guard.

"It makes sense. The ship was dirty. Fury needed a way in so he…"

Steve's anger surged, his hands clenching tighter. "I'm not gonna ask you again!"

By the look on her face, pain of loss for Fury's death, and dismay at finally putting some of the pieces together widened her eyes. "I know who killed Fury." She was finally telling the truth, and Steve released her. "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He'd credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last _fifty years_."

The name given to the assassin was a reminder to Steve. "Winter is coming."

"Excuse me?"

"It was a message Peggy wanted me to have before she died. Winter is coming." He backed off, gave her some breathing room. "Could Peggy have known about the Winter Soldier? Or is it a coincidence, and he's a ghost story? A figment of Peggy's imagination?"

The tension between the friends eased up, and Steve was able to take a few shallow breaths.

"Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran," Natasha told him with a small amount of fear in her eyes. "Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me." She pulled up the bottom of her jacket, showing him a puckered bit of skin on the front left near the hip bone. "A Soviet slug. No rifling. Bye-bye bikinis."

"Yeah. I bet you look terrible in them now," Steve told her with heavy sarcasm, that turned into a smile when she smiled.

"Going after him is a dead end. I know. I've tried." She held up the flash drive. It had been in her pocket this entire time. "Like you said, he's a ghost story."

Steve took the drive from her, one eyebrow climbing up his forehead. "Let's find out what the ghost wants."

~~O~~

Out in the parking lot, Natasha and Steve were surprised to see Bucky's SUV, and even more so at the occupants. Bucky, Chase and Mia had parked so that Natasha's 'Ray was blocked. They wouldn't be able to get out unless the SUV was moved. Natasha was just glad Joi was out of the country, or she'd be here too. "James, what's going on?"

Bucky came in for a kiss, but Natasha wasn't having any of that. She crossed her arms, and hit him with a minor glare. "After what we heard on the news, we thought you could use some help."

Chase crossed his arms, and stood with his feet shoulder width apart. "We didn't believe it, of course."

Mia looked ready to bite someone. "How could _Captain America_ be branded as a fugitive?"

Hoping to reason with her family, Natasha used her trust-me-I-know-what-I'm-talking-about-and-you-don't voice. "Guys, there's way more going on here than false accusations. Go _home_. All of you. We'll call you in a couple of hours."

She and Steve were taken aback once more when the trio laughed. Bucky stood straight and tall in front of Steve, his eyes moving from one to the other. "Not happening. Whatever it is, if it involves the two of you, it involves the rest of the family as well."

Chase moved up next to him. "Yeah. All for one…"

"…and one for all," Mia finished for him. " _We_ go where _you_ go or _no one_ goes." And to prove it, she created a ball of electricity between her hands. "I'll your car's electrical system, and you won't have a choice but to take us with you."

Bucky picked up the narrative. "So we're in this together." To Steve, he said, "Remember what I told you the day of your mom's funeral?"

Natasha shot a question at Steve, seeing his defeated frown. He shrugged, and she continued with that thought. "It looks like a fire fight is inevitable. We'll need weapons." She used her phone to send a message to Bucky's, and handed him a keycard. "You'll find everything at that address. Take a car the police won't associate with anyone in the family." One side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Yes, I mean steal one." She sent another text. "Take the long way to that address, and we'll meet you in a few hours."

The Barnes family communicated without words, all three nodding. Bucky took out his keys. "What about GPS?"

It was Steve's turn to smirk. "Nat?"

She touched her phone in a specific sequence, startling the Barnes' with multiple beeps, including one from the SUV. "Done. No worries."

This time, she let Bucky kiss her, and hugged each of the kids. Bucky got behind the wheel of the SUV as Natasha and Steve opened the doors to the 'Ray. The SUV drove off, but before Natasha could get into the driver's seat, Chase came up behind her. "They can handle the weapons. I'm coming with you."

Defeated, Natasha and Steve shared a look of bewilderment that the trio had caught onto their scheme to get them out of harm's way. Chase squeezed into the back seat. Having experienced her driving before, he put on his seatbelt, and tightened it across his chest and lap. "Tick, tock, Nat."

 **At the Mall**

Natasha had done a fantastic job of outfitting the three of them to blend in with the mall crowd. Chase shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and added a little swagger to go with his baggy pants, hoodie, heavy metal t-shirt, and high top sneakers. The STRIKE team had no idea who Chase was, so he didn't have to worry about being recognized. He'd given Steve some pointers on the current fashion. But the only concession he would make was the nerd glasses, and the funky sneakers.

Once more, Steve pulled slightly ahead of them, in a hurry to get where they were headed. Chase touched his arm, and tilted his head, indicating they should stay with Natasha, and not go off on their own. Safety in numbers, and all that.

"First rule of going on the run, Rogers, is don't run, walk." Natasha's was the voice of experience.

Steve whipped his head around, scanning the crowd. _No, you don't look at all suspicious_ , Chase thought with heavy sarcasm.

"If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."

They walked into the Apple Store, Chase ducking his chin to let them know he'd keep watch for men and women wearing the uniforms Natasha had described. He turned his back, pretending to be bored with everything, while listening in on their conversation.

Chase could easily have done the work, but Natasha seemed to know what she was doing, for the most part. "The drive has a level six homing program, so as soon as we boot up, SHIELD will know exactly where we are."

He kept an eye on one of the store's employees, a man with long dark blonde hair who seemed to be overly interested in what everyone was doing on the computers. Peeking over shoulders without the knowledge of the user, and moving away before he was noticed. The man came around the end of the table to Natasha and Steve, smiling without it reaching his eyes. "Can I help you guys with anything?"

Chase was already on the move before Natasha could speak. He stepped in between his friends, and the employee. "My sister and her fiancé are looking for some honeymoon destinations."

Steve changed the pitch of his voice to sound less educated than he was. "Yeah. We're gettin' married."

Where the employee couldn't see, Chase used ASL to say, _It's probably protected by an AI the will keep rewriting itself to counter your commands. You can't override it. Try running a tracer that will track hostile malware. If you can't read the file, you can probably find out where it came from_.

Without acknowledging him, Natasha typed faster.

The employee grinned, moving his head so he could see around Chase while Chase moved to block him, the nosy prick.

"Where you guys thinking about going?"

Hiding a smirk, Chase said the one thing he knew would perturb and vex Steve. "New Jersey."

Disappointed, the employee simply said, "Oh." Then he looked at Steve in that way people did when they thought they recognized a celebrity. Grabbing his arm, Chase turned him around, the guy saying over his shoulder, "I have those same glasses."

Under his breath, Chase said, "Yeah. You're practically twins."

"Huh, I _wish_. I'm Aaron, by the way."

Using his considerable strength, Chase dragged Aaron relentlessly to the other side of the room where a girl, pretty in a nerdy kind of way, was asking the cashier a multitude of questions about the products that she didn't know the answers to. He gave Aaron a push in the girl's direction, and returned to his post.

Steve's voice was tight as he muttered, "You said nine minutes. Come _on_."

Nudging him with an elbow, Chase whispered back, "Relax. She's got it." The computer beeped, and a map appeared, showing the signal coming from Wheaton, New Jersey. He and Natasha saw Steve's stunned expression at the same time, Natasha asking the question on both their minds.

"You know it?"

Steve exhaled loudly, his mouth a tight line. "I used to."

 **TBC**

 _Poydem so mnoy_ = Come with me

 _Peregruppirovyvat'_ = Regroup

 _Malenkii_ = Little one (male)


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 42**

"You know it?" Natasha asked at the tone of Steve's voice.

Steve exhaled loudly, his mouth a tight line. "I used to. Let's go." He grabbed the flash drive, and left the store between Natasha and Chase, immediately catching sight of Rumlow's men. "Standard tac-team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll engage, and the two of you hit the south escalator to the metro."

Two agents were coming toward them. Chase didn't worry about being recognized. To Steve, Natasha whispered, "Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said."

"What?"

"Do it!" she ordered. To her relief, Steve quickly put his arm around her shoulders, and leaned close, laughing uncomfortably. When the agents had passed, Steve glanced over his shoulder as Chase came up beside them again.

"What's next?"

Steve pointed his chin at the escalator. "That way."

They got on the down escalator, Natasha in front, Steve behind her, and Chase bringing up the rear. She spotted Rumlow coming up, and turned to Steve. "Kiss me."

Like outside the Apple store, he looked at her as if she were crazy. "What?"

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," she explained.

"Yes, they do."

Steve hesitated a moment too long. Natasha reached for him, and was surprised when Chase spun Steve around, muttering under his breath, "Oh, for ****'s sake!"

He grabbed the sides of Steve's jacket, and pulled him into a kiss. The super-soldier, and Natasha, were so startled, that she covered her mouth to keep from laughing at Steve's wide-eyed stare, effectively hiding her face. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rumlow and nearly everyone else on the crowded escalator, turn away, or pretend intense interest in the tops of their shoes or phones.

As they neared the bottom level, which was thankfully free of bad guys, Chase let Steve go and he faced forward again. With a smirk in his voice, Chase asked, "Still uncomfortable?"

Steve cleared his throat, and tugged his jacket back into place, obviously embarrassed, and supremely annoyed. "Not exactly the word I would use."

 **Dave's U-Store-It**

 **Rockville, Maryland**

Bucky and Mia, their identities obscured hats, hoodies, and sunglasses, approached the storage unit. They carried several duffle bags in which to carry the weapons. He was about to swipe the card when Mia laid her hand over his. "Did it occur to you that Nat might've sent us on a snipe hunt?"

He snorted. "Yeah. She wanted to split us up, keep us out of the way while she and Steve deal with whatever this is. That's why Chase went with her."

"To keep them honest?"

"That, and to let us know what's happening on that side." Taking out his phone, Bucky checked for messages. There were none. He put the phone away, and swiped the card before he over thought it. "Moment of truth."

Mia pressed the button to open the unit's rollaway door, their eyes going wide, and mouths dropping open. They looked at each other, and gulped, Mia speaking first. "I, uh, think it's safe to say this _wasn't_ a snipe hunt."

Bucky stepped inside, and Mia followed, closing the door behind them. They stood in the middle of the room, turning in a circle. Most of the weapons displayed were available on the streets. However, he noted that others were not. "Nat didn't specify, so we'll just take what we want."

Mia walked over to pick up a set of handguns that perfectly fit her hands. Opening the drawer below it, she found several thigh holsters. She held up a double one, and Bucky watched her buckle it around her waist, setting it low on her hips. "What d'you think, Gramps?"

"Practical _and_ stylish, except for the fact that they need to be concealed."

She took off the holster, looking at it longingly before shoving it back in the drawer. "Pity."

Bucky pulled out two shoulder holsters, handing one to Mia. "Sure you know how to use these?"

Shrugging, Mia took off her jacket, and slipped the straps on, buckling it across her chest. "What's to know?" She picked up the gun, a Makarov, checking it out as she talked. "Hold it here, point that at the bad guys, pull the trigger."

"Don't forget to take the safety off."

"Oh, right."

After strapping on the dual holster, Bucky chose a pair of Glock 19s. Extra ammo went into the pockets of his cargo pants. He replaced the jacket, and opened several more drawers. In one, he found a supply of small, round discs. He held one up. "What're these?"

Mia glanced over her shoulder, saying off-handedly, "Don't need them. You have me." At his blank expression, she elaborated. "Nat uses them. Not sure what they're called. They're like small single use Tasers."

She turned around with a tactical combat knife approximately four inches long. "How do I open it?" One finger touched a button, and the blade popped out. "Oh. Better be careful with that. I bump into something, and it could stab me in the a$$."

Crouching, Bucky stuck a small knife in each boot, and pulled the legs down to cover them. "Your aunt Carolyn never had any interest in learning to use weapons. In fact, she disapproved of me teaching your dad, uncle and aunt, as well as your cousins how to handle them. She felt that knowing how to use weapons was only a couple of steps from becoming obsessed with using them. And that was why so many ex-military became cops or mercenaries. Personally, I've always thought that having an understanding of the technology gives one a greater respect for the damage they can inflict, whether in peacetime or war. Not everyone who picks up a gun will use it to kill."

Mia pointed to the far wall. "What about those?"

Bucky looked where she was pointing, and took one down. "These are called a personal defense weapon, or PDW. It's a class of compact magazine-fed, self-loading, select-fire firearm. A hybrid between a submachine gun and a carbine, with the compact size and ammunition capacity of the former while adding the stopping power, accuracy and penetration of the latter. Most PDWs fire a small-caliber, high-velocity bottleneck cartridge, resembling a small or short rifle round. It gives the PDW better range, accuracy and armor-penetrating capability than submachine guns, which fire pistol-caliber cartridges. This one is known as an FN P-90, or just P-90." Mia reached for it, and Bucky shook his head, replacing it on the wall. "We won't need anything with that kind of stopping power."

"I missed the lessons when I left to find myself. Once this is over, we need to have a shooting party. Just you and me."

He swept his granddaughter into a quick hug, kissing the top of her head the way he had when she was small. "That's my girl."

She pushed out of his arms, and returned to looking through the drawers and cabinets. At seeing what was in the last one, she gasped, and Bucky rushed to her side. Together they reverently whispered, "Wow."

They each gathered up several of the items, and stashed them in the pockets of their cargo pants. Mia held the last one up, watching the surface glitter in the overhead light. "If _you_ don't marry Natasha, _I_ will."

He chuckled, and checked the drawers and cabinets one last time. "Get your own girl. She's _mine_."

"I prefer _guys_ , Gramps."

"Good."

They filled the duffle bags, zipped them closed, and hung them over their shoulders. Bucky opened the door; they stepped out, closed it again, and made sure it was locked before going back to the car. Rather than stealing a car, as Natasha suggested, he'd stopped at the dealership owned by a friend from his military days. The man was more than happy to lend him a vehicle that had just come in. It was so new to the dealership that they hadn't even had time to have it put in their name. For a few minutes, Bucky felt bad about the former owner who could end up in trouble because of what they were doing today. However, he reasoned, it was for the greater good.

He got back on the highway, and headed for the address Natasha had given him, secure in the knowledge that the situation involving Natasha and Steve, with his, Mia's and Chase's help, the problem could be solved.

 **On the Way to New Jersey**

Knowing that Steve was a much safer driver than Natasha, Chase didn't worry about wearing his seatbelt. He leaned both elbows on the front seats, so they could talk. "So, tell me Steve, where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"

In the rear view mirror, Chase saw the eye roll. "Nazi Germany."

"Hmm."

"And we're _borrowing_." To Natasha he said, "Take your feet off the dash." Grudgingly, she did, making it seem like it had been her idea all along.

Chase tapped Steve with the back of his hand. "Alright. I have a question for you," he held up a qualifying finger, "which you do _not_ have to answer. Though I feel like, if you don't answer, you're kind of answering it."

Annoyed, Steve blurted out, "What?"

"Don't you and my sister _ever_ kiss?"

Natasha snickered. "That bad, huh?"

He poked her on the shoulder. "I didn't say that."

A deep sigh came from Steve. "Well, it kind of _sounded_ like that's what you're saying." One side of his mouth turned up. "I'm ninety-five, not dead. And Joi has never had any complaints."

Chase sat back in his seat. "She's much too nice to mention it. You just need to practice more."

"I don't need practice!" Steve insisted, too strongly Chase thought.

"Everyone needs practice, Steve," Natasha interjected, and Chase winked at her.

"At least _I_ still got it."

This time, Steve snorted, only with humor. "No, you don't."

Pursing her lips, Natasha leaned closed to Chase, as if she were going to kiss him, and in a stage whisper said, "Maybe _you're_ the one who needs practice."

They talked about what they might find at their destination, and when they got close, because it wasn't dark yet, they stopped for dinner. Once the sun set, they got back in the truck, and drove to the coordinates they'd gotten from the flash drive. As Steve had said, it was an abandoned military base. He used the shield to gain them access.

Chase was pretty much okay with almost everything that had happened so far. He'd gotten a rush from evading the STRIKE team, as Steve called them. He looked around at the old buildings, overgrown with weeds, and probably crawling with all sorts of unsavory creatures of the rodent variety. "This is it?"

Holding her phone up to read the screen, Natasha nodded. "The file came from these coordinates."

With more than a little nostalgia, and sadness, Steve stated shortly, "So did I." They walked around while attempting to pinpoint where on the base the signal could have originated. "This is the camp where I was trained."

Stopping to peer in a window, his hands cupped around his eyes to block what little light there was, and seeing nothing of interest, Chase asked, "Changed much?"

"A little."

Turning in a circle, Natasha shook her head. "This is a dead end. Zero heat signatures, zero waves. Not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off."

Chase noticed Steve's interest in one of the buildings up ahead. "What is it?"

Steve led the way, examining the outside of the building for traps. "Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place." He used the shield to break the lock, and went inside. Natasha and Chase follow at a slower pace down a flight of stairs. Chase found the breaker box, and turned on the power, illuminating a room for which time had stood still. The furnishings and décor had come straight out of a forties noir film. On one wall hung a stylized eagle.

With a small amount of reverence, Natasha whispered, "This is SHIELD?"

"Maybe where it started," Steve replied as they entered another room. On the main wall hung three sepia-toned portraits, yellowed and cracking with age.

Gesturing at the first man, Natasha gave his name. "That one's Stark's father."

"Howard." Steve's voice held a fondness for the dark-haired man with the mustache. He nodded at the older man in uniform. "Colonel Phillips."

Chase didn't miss that Steve hadn't given the name of the person in the final photograph. "Who's the girl? She's hot, in a World War II kinda way."

Without replying, Steve turned away, his expression carefully neutral. Further down the corridor, he stopped in front of a massive bookshelf. Thought creases appeared on his forehead. "If you're already working in a secret office," he pushed on the bookshelf, and it slid open to reveal a set of doors, "why do you need to hide the elevator?"

At the entrance, Chase hesitated a moment, then joined them. Natasha used her phone to hack the code, entered it on the keypad, and the elevator descended. When it stopped, the doors opened onto a dark room with indirect lighting in the floor. Ominous shapes squatted in the shadows.

Then the lights came up showing them the room was filled with old computer servers, monitors, and data terminals, circa, early to mid-seventies, if Chase had to guess. Here and there, rows of lights, white, yellow, orange, red, blinked to show activity in those servers.

They split up, taking three different paths to the main terminals on a dais, the lights coming on as they got close. "This can't be the data-point. This technology is ancient."

Chase stepped onto the dais, spying a modern external USB port wired into the system. "Nat?"

"Worth a try." She inserted the drive into one of the ports, and the room seemed to come alive. More lights came on, and equipment powered up, showing that the room was more vast than they'd originally thought. Cameras swiveled toward them, and the main terminal came on, green lettering marching across the black background.

A computer generated voice said, " _Initiate System?_ "

Using the keyboard, Natasha typed while speaking, "Y-E-S spells yes." The old computer powered up. She looked at Chase with a half-grin, and he couldn't resist.

In a stilted computer voice, he said, "Shall we play a game?"

To Steve, Natasha explained, "It's from a movie…"

"Yeah, I saw it."

Whirring and clicks were followed by an accented voice, one that was familiar to Steve to go by the expression on his face. The camera on top of the monitor focused on Steve.

" _Rogers, Steven Grant. Born, 1918_." Next, the camera pointed at Natasha. _"Romanova, Natalia Alianovna. Born, 1984_." Chase took a half-step back when the camera landed on him. " _Lockwood, Chase Garrett. Born 1985. Fraternal twin to Lockwood, Justin Phineas. I must confess that I didn't foresee your involvement in these events._ "

Uncomfortable with the entire situation, Chase grinned, and shrugged. "Yeah. That's me. Totally random."

Natasha shook her head. "It's some kind of a recording."

"It's not…" Chase started to say, overridden by the voice.

" _I am not a recording, Fräulein. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am._ " One of the side monitors lit up with an old photo of Dr. Arnim Zola.

"Do you know this thing?"

Steve stepped off the dais, and walked behind the curved bank of controls. "Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He's been dead for years."

The volume of the voice increased as more speakers were engaged. " _First correction: I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however, that was worth saving on two hundred thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my_ _brain_."

This Zola person, computer program, whatever he was, sounded quite pleased with himself.

Steve completed his circle back at the main monitor that now displayed dots of green in a freakish version of Zola's face. "How did you get here?"

" _Invited._ "

Natasha searched her memory. "It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value."

Zola's voice held pride, confidence, and arrogance. " _They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own_."

Chase nudged Steve. "Didn't HYDRA die with the Red Skull?"

The monitor changed, now showing a skull with several legs. " _Cut off one head. Two more shall take its place_."

Steve was more than a little pissed. Chase could see the tension in his back and shoulders. He lifted his chin. "Prove it."

His tone indicated that he didn't think Zola had a leg to stand on, so to speak. That changed with the images on the monitors.

" _Accessing archive_." A stern man in a Nazi uniform, the Nazi flag proudly displayed in the background for thousands of soldiers. " _HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom_." The scene changed to HYDRA troops performing the two-armed salute reminiscent of the Nazi salute, both arms raised, and shouting, "Hail HYDRA."

" _What we did not realize was that, if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly._ " More scenes of war, including several of the Red Skull, flashed over the screen, along with some of Steve and the Howling Commandoes. " _After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For seventy years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed_."

He didn't want to admit it, but fear built inside of Chase at the image in his head of what Zola was saying.

"That's impossible. SHIELD would have stopped you."

There was a brief vision of silver and black, with a red star in the center. A few more scenes flashed by, stopping on a silhouetted figure that both Steve and Natasha recognized, to go by their expressions. The next photo was of a newspaper clipping announcing the death of Howard and Maria Stark in a car accident. It was followed by the front and side view of a man wearing an eye patch. His name was given as Nicholas Joseph Fury, who had been the director of SHIELD until his recent death.

" _Accidents will happen. HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise._ "

More pictures, these of flying fortresses with rail guns tracking through the sky. Chase didn't recognize the ships, but it was apparent that his companions did.

" _We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life: a zero sum_." Steve lashed out, smashing the monitor with his fist. Another came on, Zola continuing with hardly a pause. " _As I was saying…_ "

Steve stalked to the monitor, demanding, "What's on this drive?"

" _Project Insight requires insight, so I wrote an algorithm_."

Chase's fear turned to anger on a par with Steve's. He stepped forward, speaking to the program for the second time. "What _kind_ of algorithm? What does it do?"

As though lecturing a class, Zola stated, " _The answer to your question is fascinating, young man. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it_."

By the tone of Zola's voice at the start, Chase knew something was up. Natasha pulled out her phone. "We've got a bogie. Short range ballistic. Thirty seconds tops."

"Who fired it?"

Chase already knew it wouldn't be good news, and it wasn't.

"SHIELD." She grabbed the drive, as Chase ran toward the elevator at the same time Steve threw his shield. A set of blast doors slammed shut, and the shield bounced off, headed right for him. Chase caught it, and turned to throw it back.

" _I'm afraid I have been stalling you_." Zola, or whatever he'd become, wasn't done taunting them. " _Admit it. It's better this way. We're all of us out of time…_ "

Chase saw the tunnel opening at the same time as Steve. "Get Nat!"

Steve ripped the grating covering the tunnel off, and flung it out of the way, and continued into the turn. Natasha was thrown into his arms at the first blast, both of them falling backward into the hole. Chase was already on the move. He dived into a roll using the shield as leverage, coming to his feet at the edge of the tunnel, and immediately followed his companions. He landed on top of Steve protecting Natasha with his body, holding the shield over all three of them as the place disintegrated around them.

When the shaking finally stopped, Natasha was unconscious, and all three were buried in rubble, dirt and cement dust wafting around them like thick smog. Steve checked Natasha over while Chase pushed at one of the pieces of concrete. It shifted, but not enough. Steve joined him, and together, they put their combined strength behind a mighty shove, pushing several slabs up far enough that they could climb out. Chase glanced over his shoulder, seeing the lights from several airborne choppers coming toward them, more than a little afraid of what would happen if they were caught.

Steve lifted Natasha up into Chase's waiting arms then climbed out himself, the shield clutched in his left hand. Chase followed Steve back to the truck they'd hidden outside the base's gate. The back door was already open when he arrived. He climbed into the back seat, lay Natasha on the seat, and closing the door.

By now, Steve had backed out to the road, shifted into drive, and took off. Chase pressed two fingers under Natasha's ear, and was gratified to feel a strong heartbeat. "Who _were_ those guys?"

"They're part of the STRIKE team from the mall." Steve glanced into the rear view mirror, relieved that no vehicles were in pursuit as he turned onto the main road. "We gotta ditch this truck."

Chase buckled a seat belt around Natasha, and the other around himself. "Where are we going? If HYDRA is able to download some psycho's brain into a computer, how to do we get away from them?"

Steve's determined gaze was reflected in the mirror. "I've got an idea. Or the start of one."

~~O~~

The STRIKE teams spread out to search the area. Rumlow climbed up a precariously stacked pile of rubble, his weapon at the ready. However, the red laser sight didn't find a target. He jumped down, shining the light into the dark opening, finding no bodies as he'd expected. His eyes scanned the ground, and in the dirt, he found a single footprint. He tapped the headset in his right ear. "Call in the Asset."

~~O~~

The door easily yielded to him, and the Asset quietly made his way down the darkened hallway to a room filled with shiny metal equipment, counters, a small table, chairs in two different heights. As he'd been instructed, he placed a handgun on the table, and sat down to wait.

Soon, the man he thought of as the leader came into the room. He opened one of the metal doors. The Asset saw that it was lit up inside, and filled with food. _Refrigerator_ , his memory supplied.

The man turned with a carton in one hand, finally noticing his guest.

From another part of the house, a woman's voice called out, " _I'm going to go, Mr. Pierce. You need anything before I leave?_ "

Though he was looking at the Asset, his next words were obviously for the woman. "No. Uh, it's fine, Renata. You can go home."

" _Okay. Night-night_." A door slammed, and they were alone.

"Want some milk?" The leader took a glass from one of the cabinets.

Another memory stirred. Milk. He loathed the drink, unless it had another substance mixed into it. He watched the other man's face without blinking to hide his thoughts. Chocolate. He liked _chocolate_ milk. The Asset sensed that he wasn't expected to reply, and didn't.

"The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. The two level six targets are still alive." He poured himself a glass of milk and came to join him at the table.

The front door opened again, and Renata called out, " _Sorry, Mr. Pierce. I forgot my phone. Here it is. Bye._ "

The man's hand touched the gun, and withdrew in what seemed like relief. "Good night."

Again, the door closed, and this time the Asset felt relief. If this Renata had come into the room, he felt certain that the leader would have sanctioned her. The leader glanced over his shoulder, waiting until he heard a car engine start up to continue. "They've cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours."

 **Dumfries, Virginia**

Bucky got out of the driver's seat, and joined Mia in front of the car. The girl stared across the street with her arms crossed. "You're _sure_ this is it?"

He looked from the phone to the other side of the street, and back. "These are the coordinates Natasha sent me."

"Think she's here?"

Shrugging, Bucky shoved the phone into his back pocket. "If not, she'll be here soon." He made an after you wave. "Shall we wait inside?"

Mia huffed, and headed across the street with Bucky at her side. "Haven't been in one since Grams passed."

Though he didn't want to admit it, Bucky sighed. "Yeah. Me either." The gate squealed as he opened then closed it again. He hesitated, and Mia held out her hand.

"Come on, Gramps. I'll protect you."

 **Washington, D.C.**

Sam jogged down the sidewalk, turned into the apartment complex, and to his door. Inside, he opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of juice. He'd hadn't taken a drink yet when someone knocked on his door. Setting the bottle on the counter, he pulled up the shade, surprised to see Steve, the stunning red-head from the day they met, and an unfamiliar man. All three were covered in dirt, soot, and who knew what else. They all bore more than a few cuts, abrasions, and bruises. They were also casting the occasional nervous glance over their shoulders, red-lighting his instincts. He opened the patio door, uttering a non-comital, "Hey, man."

Steve gave Sam an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry about this."

The young man fingered a gash covered in dried blood on his cheek. "We need a place to lay low."

The explanation came from the red-head. "Everyone we know is trying to kill us."

 **TBC**

Yes, I let Renata live. So sue me.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 43**

 **Dumfries, Virginia**

The door to the chapel made a barely discernible creak as Mia pushed it open. When Bucky didn't immediately follow, she reached out and dragged him in, causing him to stumble. Leaning close, she whispered, "It's a _church_ , Gramps. Not a firing squad."

"It's just that it reminds me of your Grams' funeral, and how I should've been there when she…"

Holding his arm, Mia urged him down the center aisle. "No one blames you. Least of all Grams. Remember what the M.E. said? It was a _massive_ stroke. She would've died even if you had been there."

He conceded the point with a shake of his head. "At least I would've been able to say good-bye."

She gestured at the vast room, the walls echoing their words back to them no matter how quietly they spoke. "Here's your chance."

"May I help you?" a gentle voice asked from near the pulpit. The older man in priest's vestments came down the steps to greet them. "I'm Father Francis Gregory."

Mia smiled at the priest, and put out her hand. "I'm Mia Barnes, and this is my grandfather, James Barnes."

The priest tilted his head down so he could look over the tops of his glasses, looking from one to the other as he gripped their hands. He seemed accept what they said, but with a grain of salt. "Of course he is."

Bucky gently pulled free of Mia's grip. "We're meeting someone here. A woman…"

Father Gregory's expression fell. "I'm so sorry. Sister Mary Margaret passed away three months ago. Are you family? I was told she had none."

"Sorry for your loss, Father," Bucky rushed to assure him. "We're looking for a different woman." He held his hand at shoulder height. "About this tall, red hair, green eyes, sexy walk…"

The older man's face brightened again. "Yes. She comes in every few months to light candles and pray for her departed loved ones. She's also a generous benefactor of the church." He nodded, and they turned to look. "Without her contributions, the choir loft would've fallen down years ago, and the city would've had the church condemned."

Bucky gaped at the man, snapping his mouth closed when Mia nudged him. He cleared his throat. "I can't believe I didn't know this about Natasha."

"Natasha?" Father Gregory was slightly taken aback. He motioned, and Mia and Bucky followed him down the hall to the right, into an office. The walls were lined with so many books, Mia wasn't sure that anyone one person could read them all in one lifetime, unless they did nothing else with their free time. Going to the bookshelf farthest from the door, the priest took down a book with a yellow and black cover. "Our benefactor, who wishes to remain anonymous even to me, asked me to hold onto to this, and if anyone came around asking about a woman named Natasha, I was to give it to them."

Mia read the title, huffed, and held it up so Bucky could see.

 _Snipe Hunting for Dummies_ , by Nikki Rurik.

Bucky scowled. "Who's Nikki Rurik?"

Gregory shrugged. "I tried Googling her, but the fan website gives you links to a series of random, unrelated sites that lead to other unrelated sites, and so forth, until you're back to your starting point."

On a hunch, Mia used her smartphone to do a little research. When she found what she was looking for, she tapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Look, Gramps."

Her grandfather looked up at the ceiling as if asking for divine guidance then back to the priest. "Thank you, Padre. We've taken up enough of your time."

They shook hands again, and the Barnes duo returned to their car. Mia buckled into the passenger seat while Bucky started the car. But before he could shift into gear, Mia grabbed his arm. At his questioning glance, she opened the book, _Snipe Hunting for Dummies_. The pages were blank except for one in the middle. All it said was _Go_ _home_ _. Stay there until I call you._ _No_ _arguments_ _, and_ _don't_ _look for me_.

Her grandfather slapped the steering wheel. "How is it she's always several steps ahead of us?"

"Ask her when we see her, Gramps." Mia sighed. "Hunting snipe is exhausting. And snipe, like crow, isn't especially filling. Let's get something to eat."

 **Washington D.C.**

The bathroom door was open, and Steve had just finished cleaning up. Chase and he passed in the doorway, both looking at Natasha sitting on the bed drying her hair, and sharing a look.

Chase closed the door, stripped out of his clothes, tossed them with the ones Steve and Natasha had worn, and turned on the water. All the hot was gone, but he didn't care as long as he could wash the dirt, grime and blood away. It felt good on his skin, but he didn't linger. Once the water was off, he could hear Steve and Natasha talking. It sounded like the continuation of a previous conversation. He dressed after only a cursory rub with the towel, and cracked the door. Sam had put out a couple of disposable razors, but Chase decided against shaving, at least for now.

Opening the drawer on the right gave Chase access to first aid supplies. He examined the gash on his cheek a little closer. With the dirt and blood gone, it didn't look as bad as it had. In fact, it had already started to heal, thanks to his grandfather's super-genes. Might be gone in a week or so.

He opened the bathroom door, and leaned against the jamb.

~~O~~

Sam had been kind enough to run down to the thrift store to pick up clothes for Steve and his friends. Natasha had given Sam a smile when she saw the hair straightener. He'd stopped for food as well. Steve and Chase had kept watch while Natasha showered, peering out windows through a gaps in the curtains, Chase prowling around the apartment nervously until Steve told him to can it. Sam had returned by the time Steve was in the shower taking his turn.

"You okay?" Steve asked for both of them.

"Yeah." To Steve, Natasha's tone lacked her usual confidence.

He sat in the chair next to the bed, bringing them face to face. "What's going on?"

She didn't confide easily, giving up bits of herself in small doses. This time was different. "When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight. But I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA." Her eyes dropped to the floor, and back to his. "I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but… I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

Steve understood the sadness, and the moping. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong business." She smiled faintly, her eyes taking in both men. "I owe both of you."

Chase came to sit next to her, pulling her close so he could kiss her temple. "You're my Step-Grams, or will be soon, Nat. And Steve's gonna be my brother-in-law. It's in the handbook. I gotta save your lives. We gotta save each other. We're family."

"If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your lives, and be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?"

Steve smiled faintly. "I would _now_. And I'm always honest."

Looking a bit sheepish, Chase nudged her shoulder with his. "I'm not always honest, but about this, yes. In a heartbeat." He stood, and went to look out the window, peeking through the side gap of the curtains. "The KGB ended in 1992, didn't it?"

Natasha clapped a hand on her thigh for emphasis. "Officially, the KGB was dissolved in November of '91. At least that's what they wanted the rest of the world to think."

The young man went to lean on the wall with his arms crossed. "Next question: what _is_ SHIELD? It's an acronym, that much I know. But for what?"

The smell of food cooking wafted into the room making Steve's stomach growl. Natasha gave Chase one of her unblinking stares. "What do _you_ think it means?"

The smirk on Chase's face reminded Steve of when he and Bucky were in high school, and his friend was about to say something borderline crude. At least for the times.

"Probably not what's rollin' around in my head. Some of which can't be said in mixed company." He returned to his seat next to Natasha. "Can you leave us alone, Steve?"

Shaking his head and chuckling, Steve sat back in the chair, one hand to his chin in thought.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." Natasha's eyes landed on him again, and he was relieved to see her smile was back. "You seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing."

"Well, I guess I just like to know who I'm fighting."

Sam appeared in the doorway. "I made breakfast. If you guys eat that sort of thing."

~~O~~

Holding the file so Natasha could read over his shoulder, Steve looked at Sam, his eyes wide in disbelief. "I thought you said you were a _pilot_."

A smug half-grin turned up Sam's mouth. "I never said 'pilot'."

Chase moved around so he could see as well, whistling. "Why can't _I_ ever have cool toys like that?"

Shaking his head, Steve let out a long sigh. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason."

The half-grin got bigger. "Dude, Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in."

There was a tug on the folder, and Steve let Chase take it. "Where can we get our hands on one of these things?"

"The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall."

Steve looked at Natasha and Chase, both shrugged their shoulders, unconcerned. "Shouldn't be a problem."

Chase closed the file and dropped it on the table. On the cover, was printed the words "EXO-7", "Falcon", and "Classified". "How did a civilian get his hands on a file for a highly classified military project?"

Sam rubbed the back of his head. "That's a long story."

A jacket flew through the air, and Steve caught it. "Save it for downtime. Let's go."

 **Fort Meade, Maryland**

Performing a jump-spin-kick that would've been worthy of a champion martial artist, Steve took out the last of the men guarding the building. Then, just as he and Sam were about to let themselves in, another squad came at them from the north. Sam disposed of one, while Steve took the other three out by throwing the shield. It bounced from one to the other, and returned to his hands.

Keeping his voice low, Sam whispered, "You have _got_ to show me how you do that."

"Later. Let's get this thing and get out of here." Again using the shield, Steve broke the lock, and slammed a fist into the power controls. The twelve-inch steel door slid open on well-oiled hinges, and the men ducked inside. The thing they were after could be seen just sitting on a shelf beside a bunch of tech that Steve didn't care about. All they wanted was Project Falcon.

The device was meant to be worn like a backpack. Steve helped Sam into it, and while he buckled in, Steve left a note in place of the device. The two men stepped outside, where Sam put on a pair of goggles, and powered up. He flipped Steve a salute. "See you at the rendezvous point in twenty."

"Copy that," Steve responded automatically, but Sam was already gone. He watched his new friend disappear then headed out. He jogged past the AAFES Exchange Center, the Commissary and the Burger King, leaped over the stream, and jumped the fence. He stashed the shield in the back of Sam's car, and drove back to the coffee shop where Chase and Natasha were waiting.

Chase made a few more adjustments to the program he'd used to shut down the audio and visual portions of the base's security, restarted everything, removed all evidence that would point to him, or his companions, and shut down the computer.

Steve bought a black coffee on the way out. The trio went around to the back of the coffee shop to the dumpster. Chase set the computer on the ground and stepped back.

Natasha activated the Widow's bite on her left arm, and shot several bolts at the laptop, frying the circuitry. She and Chase exchanged an exploding fist bump, making Steve smile and shake his head. "Our window is shrinking. Let's hustle."

As they headed for the car, Chase did a few dance steps while humming _The Hustle_. Natasha claimed shotgun, saying with a grin, "Don't give up your day job, Chase."

This comment prompted a strange look from the young man. "Oh, s***! I have to call Alex. Tell him I won't be at the club tonight." He pulled out the burner phone, powered it up, and made a quick call to Tunnel Vision's manager. When finished, Natasha took it from him, opened the back, and used a stinger to fry it the same way she'd done the laptop.

In the rear view mirror, Steve saw Chase cross his arms, and slouch down in the seat, pouting. "Still pissed you fried my phone before. I had pics of me and Justin on that phone. Hadn't downloaded them to my cloud account because…" he shrugged one shoulder.

"Sorry, Chase. But it's a small price to pay to keep all of us alive long enough to figure out what HYDRA's game is, and how to stop Insight."

The young man relented, sat up again, and put on his seat belt. "It's just… I still miss him you know? Cool stuff happens, and I think, 'I _gotta_ tell Justin'. Even started to call him a few times. Then I remember…"

Turning in her seat, Natasha reached out, and Chase took her hand. "I miss him too. We all do. And the saying that time heals all wounds is crap. The wounds stay with us, in our hearts and minds. Eventually, they become covered with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it never leaves."

Chase sniffed, and reclaimed his hand, using it to rub the end of his nose. "How is it you always know just what to say, Nat?"

She faced forward, and only Steve could see she was no longer smiling. "It's a gift."

 **The Venue Restaurant**

 **Pennsylvania Avenue**

 **Washington, D.C.**

The group of men and women moved out into the afternoon sun. Senator Stern squinted, making his already beady eyes look more so. Jasper Sitwell had stopped listening to the man rambling on and on about his current mistress, a young intern in his office. He made comments that seemed like he was hanging on every word. In the past few years, he'd turned it into an art form.

The Senator and his security team walked toward the limo idling at the curb. As soon as they were out of earshot, Sitwell's phone pinged. He looked at the caller ID with trepidation.

 _Alexander Pierce_

He sent his security team to bring the car around so he could speak privately. "Yes, sir?"

The overly cheerful voice on the other end was not his superior.

" _Agent Sitwell, how was lunch?_ "

Another voice joined in. " _My sister says the crab cakes here are delicious._ "

"Who is this?"

" _The good looking guys in the sunglasses, your ten o'clock_ ,"

Sitwell looked around, but didn't see anyone talking on the phone.

" _Your_ _other_ _ten o'clock._ " the first voice said with disdain. Turning around, Sitwell finally found the men. The African-American man saluted him with a glass of tea, and the other, younger, boyish-looking, waved. " _There you go._ "

Annoyed, and quickly approaching anger, the SHIELD agent rasped out, "What do you want?"

The African-American man made a vague gesture. " _You're gonna go around the corner to your right. There's a grey car two spaces down. The three of us are gonna take a ride_."

The second man stopped a server, and was given a refill on his tea in a to-go cup. Huffing, Sitwell demanded, "And why would I do that?"

Again, the other man's overly confident tone grated on his nerves, as if he had the upper hand, and knew it.

" _Because that tie looks really expensive, and I'd hate to mess it up._ "

Looking down, Sitwell saw the red dot of a sniper rifle's laser sight in the middle of his chest. Now he was scared, desperately looking for the source, knowing there was no way he could get away.

 **On a Rooftop**

All through the elevator ride, Sitwell clasped his hands in front of him pretending to ignore his three companions. Rogers stood in front of the door, presenting Sitwell with his back. Romanoff glared a hole in his forehead. The third guy leaned in the corner, arms and ankles crossed. Every few seconds, he would lift the cap and replace it, rub the back of his neck or stare at his nails as if he hadn't seen them before. The only person missing was the African-American man from the restaurant. At the end of their ride, Rogers and Romanoff had been waiting. The other man opened the trunk, took something out, and went around the corner out of sight without a word.

The elevator came to a stop, and Rogers stepped aside, gesturing for Sitwell to go ahead of him. He wanted to do that even less than he wanted to have his tonsils removed with Typhoid Mary's straight razor. When the unknown member of the trio gave him a shove that nearly knocked him to his knees, Sitwell knew he had only two choices: move on his own, or let them move him. He chose the former.

Nothing was said by any of them unless they were giving him directions. Soon, he was presented with a set of utilitarian stairs that led to a door marked "roof access - authorized personnel only". He thought about making a smarta$$ remark, but didn't.

The door at the top of the stairs was locked, but only long enough for Rogers to break it. Then, the moment Sitwell stepped outside, Rogers gave him a shove the sent him stumbling, barely keeping to his feet.

"Tell me about Zola's algorithm."

He retrieved his glasses and put them back on. "Never heard of it."

Romanoff, the other guy, and Rogers stalked him across the roof. "What were you doing on the _Lemurian Star_?"

At this point, truth could only help his cause. "Throwing up. I get seasick." He stumbled back against the parapet, and would've fallen if Rogers hadn't grabbed the lapels of his jacket, yanking him forward again. Sitwell smiled. "Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? 'Cause that's not really your style, Rogers."

Involuntarily, Sitwell glanced at the third guy, who held his hands up as if in surrender. "Don't look at me. Not _my_ style either."

Rogers interrupted him. Patience wasn't his strong suit. Not today. "You're right. It's not. It's hers."

The two men stepped back, and Romanoff kicked Sitwell in the stomach, knocking him off the roof. He screamed as he plummeted toward the ground.

~~O~~

Looking over the side, Chase winced as he watched Sitwell fall. "Yikes." To Natasha and Steve, he said, "Brittany was supposed to move in next month, but she's decided to go to Las Vegas and become a Black Jack dealer."

On Both faces, Chase saw genuine remorse. Natasha commented, "I'm sorry. Why don't we have a commiseration party."

"It's no big deal. Made me realize I didn't really love her. We can still have the party."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Steve's manner relaxed. "Want me to bring the beer?"

"Got it covered. Some deviled eggs would be nice."

Natasha brightened. "I'll bring _Pashtet Iz Pechonki_." The men looked at her blankly. "Liver _pâté_."

Chase grinned. "Mmm. Joi makes the best _foie de veau en persillade avec pommes de terre_ you've ever tasted."

Now Steve look confused, translating the French into English. "Calf's liver with parsley, garlic, and fried potatoes?"

"Yeah."

The super-soldier shook his head. "I'm not ready for that."

Seconds later, the screaming came closer as Sam flew up over the parapet, and dropped Sitwell on the roof. Sam came in for a landing, the wings folding into the pack he wore on his back, as he turned to face the group. It was all quite dramatic, designed to scare Sitwell into talking. And it worked.

They walked toward the bald man cowering on the rooftop with his hands up, and he couldn't talk fast enough.

"Zola's algorithm is a program… for choosing Insight's targets!"

"What targets?" Steve demanded.

Sitwell waved a hand as he ran down a list of names. "You! Bucky Barnes! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City." He stopped to take a few rushed breathes. "Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange. Anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now or in the future."

"The future? How could it know?"

Their captive laughed hollowly. "How could it _not_?"

Natasha and Steve shared a confused glance, and Chase explained. "I get it, Steve. The twenty-first century is a digital book."

"Zola taught HYDRA how to read it," Sitwell put in.

Chase continued, "Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls. Even your SAT scores." Setting his feet shoulder width apart, and allowing his anger to really show for the first time, Chase finished, "Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples' _past_ to predict their _future_."

"What then, Sitwell?"

"Oh, my God. Pierce is gonna kill me," the man on the ground seemed to say to himself.

Chase took a step forward, and Sitwell moved back. Sam grabbed the shoulder of his jacket to keep him in place. "What _then_?"

Sitwell's eyes searched for escape, finding none. "Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list…" he paused for dramatic effect, or that's how it felt, "…a few million at a time."

 **The Highway**

This time of day, traffic was heavy, but no more so than usual, and Bucky navigated it mostly by instinct, having driven this exact route five days a week for all the years he'd been working at the museum. That meant he could use most of his brain to worry at the fact that there were still so many things he didn't know about the woman he loved, and was about to marry.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder, Mia, holding up a brownish clump. "Want my last chicken nugget, Gramps?"

He opened his mouth, and she popped it in. The ride from the church had been mostly quiet, and Bucky was glad. What could he possibly say to Mia that hadn't been said when they discovered that the weapons they'd taken from Natasha's cache had all been fake?

They thought they'd hit the motherlode, especially with the small round grenades that looked like miniature Death Stars. When examined closer, they were found to be Christmas ornaments… shaped like the Death Star. Nothing had been real. None of it. Though he had to give Natasha credit for going to so much trouble to keep them safe. And it might've worked, if Bucky hadn't sent Chase with them.

His hand wrapped around the disposable cup, and he sucked it dry of every last drop of his drink, leaving nothing but ice. The car ahead of his slammed on its brakes, and the cup went flying onto the passenger floorboard. Mia gripped the seatbelt where it had tightened across her chest. "What the hell?"

"Traffic's slowing down."

"Accident?"

Bucky buzzed the window down, and stuck his head out. "Can't tell." A series of loud pops, and vehicles crashing into each other vied with the screech of tires on the road. "Police chase?"

Mia scrolled her phone. "Nothing on Twitter or Facebook."

His phone rested in the center console, dark. He touched the screen above the radio, and tapped the "Call Natasha" icon. His granddaughter shrugged, and he swore under his breath when it went straight to voice mail. "Tried texting her a few times. Haven't heard back."

Suddenly, there were black suited men and women swarming down the yellow lines, and the shoulders of the highway, weapons at the ready. Within moments, the police were ordering people out of their vehicles, and sending them back the way they'd come.

There was machine-gun fire, explosions, and the thunk- _boom_ of a grenade launcher, followed by the screech of tires, metal scraping metal, breaking glass, and screams of pain and terror. Bucky got out of the SUV, and stood on the doorjamb to get a better view. And what he saw, or thought he saw, sent a trickle of ice down his back. He caught a glimpse of what could have been red hair disappearing between a bucket truck and a black BMW that couldn't possibly have been Natasha, because what would she be doing in a fire fight with the police in downtown D.C.?

 **On the Way to Insight**

Sitwell, squashed in between Romanoff and the other guy, wiggled trying to get more room. Neither one budged. His thoughts whirling, he tried one more time to change their minds. If he could do that, then maybe he'd get out of this with his life. "HYDRA doesn't like leaks."

Though he'd spoken to Rogers, Wilson answered. "So why don't you try sticking a cork in it?"

Chase Lockwood, who was apparently the grandson of Bucky Barnes, Rogers' best friend, lifted Sitwell's tie. "You're right, Sam. It _is_ a nice tie."

The now former SHIELD agent pulled the material from Lockwood's hand with a glare as Romanoff leaned between the front seats, further cramping Sitwell.

"Insight's launching in sixteen hours. We're cutting it a little bit close here."

Rogers glanced back then out the front window. "I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans, and access the helicarriers directly."

Sitwell pulled Romanoff back and leaned forward again. "What?! Are you _crazy_? That's a terrible, _terrible_ idea."

~~O~~

There was the heavy thump of a body landing on the roof, halting all conversation. The rear window next to Chase was smashed, glass flying all over the interior of the car. A metal arm reached in through the window, and grabbed Sitwell by the front of his shirt. The man screamed, the sound of one who knows who his killer is, and that he has zero chance of survival.

In less than a heartbeat, Chase turned sideways in his seat, kicking out until the hand let go. A flesh and blood hand appeared, this time with a weapon. Knowing what was coming next, Natasha climbed onto Steve's lap, using a foot to move Sam out of the way. Chase shoved Sitwell to the opposite side as bullets rained down through the roof of the car.

Steve pulled hard on the emergency brake, throwing the passengers forward and then back as it went from sixty to zero in just a few seconds.

The man on the roof was thrown, landing on the back of his neck and shoulders. He rolled onto his left knee, still sliding backwards at an incredible rate, while digging the fingers of his metal hand into the asphalt to slow his momentum, sparks flying from his fingertips scraping over the ground. The sound grated on Chase's nerves until he came to a stop.

He pulled his hand free of the grooves, and came upright as he brought his right leg in, using it to stand. The right hand was clenched in a fist, and he just stood there, watching.

A mask that resembled a muzzle and goggles covered most of his face, and his hair, down to his shoulders, was blowing in the wind. On the shoulder of the metal arm, Chase could see a red star. It reminded him of the Soviet flag. Was _this_ the Winter Soldier? From Natasha and Steve's descriptions, it couldn't be anyone else. Could the Russian government be behind HYDRA, and everything that's been happening?

Chase peered out the front window, and a long forgotten memory tickled at his brain. He wasn't given long to wonder why this particular memory. Natasha took out a handgun and started shooting. The gun was knocked from her hand to the floorboard when another vehicle rammed them from behind, pushing them toward the man on the bridge.

Sam pumped the brakes, but the unrelenting force of the military-style Hummer behind them ensured they kept moving forward. The smell of burning rubber stung Chase's nose as the car swerved, Sam just managing to regain control after sideswiping another car.

Just before they would've hit him, the Winter Soldier made a jump-flip, landing on the roof again, the toes of his boots shattering the rear window. His left hand smashed through the windshield, grabbed the steering wheel, and ripped it out of Sam's hands, _and_ from the steering column.

Sam yelled, "S***!" just as Natasha found her gun, and shot through the roof.

The Winter Soldier leaped onto the hood of the Hummer, riding it like a skateboard.

Unable to steer, the car swerved over all three lanes of traffic, the driver's side wheels running up on the concrete divider. It landed back on the road, and the Hummer rammed it again, forcing it into the center divider again. This time, the car tilted precariously, and Chase decided it was time to bail out. Steve too, apparently.

Steve placed the shield between himself and the door, pulled Natasha against his chest, and dragged Sam over the center console. "C'mon, Chase. That's an order!"

Sitwell finally lifted his head from where he'd been cowering on the floor. "What about me?"

" _You_ can stay."

In the space of a heartbeat, Chase examined all the outcomes of what Steve wanted to do, and in each one, Sam, and maybe Natasha, ended up dead. Steve could only save two people, and expect them to come through it relatively unscathed. But for the other three to make it, Chase had to stay behind.

To let Steve think he'd given in, Chase climbed into the driver's seat. Then, he shook his head and grinned. "Sorry, Steve. Not this time."

Chase kicked out with his left foot, breaking the door's hinges as the car hit something in the road, and flipped into the air. As the passenger side faced down, he shouted, "Hang on!" and pushed them out of the car onto the road.

 **TBC**

The House of Romanov was the second dynasty, after the House of Rurik, to rule over Russia, and reigned from 1613 until the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II on March 15, 1917, as a result of the February Revolution.

 _The Hustle_ is a disco song by songwriter/arranger Van McCoy and the Soul City Symphony, released in the summer of 1975.


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 44**

The Hummer skidded past Steve and Natasha, and over to the side. The Winter Soldier jumped off the hood as the men inside spilled out onto the road. One man handed him what looked like a grenade launcher.

As the Winter Soldier aimed the weapon, Steve pushed Natasha out of the way, and brought the shield up. The grenade hit the shield dead center, knocking him off the overpass, and into a city bus. The bus collided with a bucket truck, flipping the bus onto its side, and throwing the passengers around like pebbles in a tin can.

Steve sorted himself out, ignoring the moans and cries from the injured civilians. He grabbed the shield, and went after the HYDRA agents who'd rappelled over the side.

~~O~~

In the back seat, Sitwell was screaming as he was slammed from one side to the other through the car's roll. Bracing himself with his left hand on the broken steering column, and both feet on the console, Chase rallied all his considerable strength into grabbing Sitwell, and dropping him on his side in the back seat.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam, Steve, and Natasha sliding down the highway on the shield. Sam fell off, rolling over and over. When his momentum played out, he crawled behind a wrecked car for protection.

Ignoring the fate of his friends and almost-family for the moment, Chase gave all his attention to his own predicament. As the car rolled again, Sitwell slid to the passenger side until his feet were touching the door. Inside his head, Chase kept count of how long it took the vehicle to complete a full three-sixty roll while he maneuvered himself into the back seat with the other man.

Chase got a hold of Sitwell around the waist with his right arm, reaching above his head to hold onto the frame of the broken window.

Then, as the car went into what would be its last roll, Chase kicked out the door. "Close your eyes, and bring your knees to your chest!"

"Why?!"

"Do it!"

Sitwell did as he was told, dropping his chin to his chest, and reaching around to hold onto Chase's waist.

The car turned onto its side once more so that the men's feet were facing the ground. Chase pushed off the door frame, the men dropped to the asphalt, and the car kept going, leaving them huddled together in the middle of the road. Chase looked over his shoulder, heartily glad his idea worked.

When Sitwell realized they weren't dead or dying, he slowly uncurled, and Chase let him go. Both men were panting hard from the rush of adrenalin in their systems as they watched the car hit the right barrier, flip one more time, and come down on its roof.

The dual roar of high-performance engines announced the arrival of two more Hummers. Sitwell stood transfixed as they barreled toward them well over the speed limit. No doubt due to the contingent of police vehicles in pursuit.

Chase took hold of Sitwell's arm, and dragged him to the right shoulder, pushing him to the ground when the men and women in the Hummers shot at them. Bullets flew around them, one grazing Chase on the left arm, and the other his right side. He felt the warm trickle of blood, but no pain. Another legacy from his grandfather. Of all Bucky's progeny, Chase alone had the ability to choose not to feel pain. And since it would only hinder him under the circumstances, he shut off that portion of his brain.

Reaching behind him, Chase held onto the top of the barrier, swung both legs up and jumped over the side without knowing what was below, but it was a chance he was willing to take.

~~O~~

Natasha jumped the barrier separating the two sides of the overpass, dodging cars with inches to spare, even rolling over the hood of one.

The Winter Soldier launched another grenade, blowing up the car in the far lane, and its occupants. The blast threw her over the side. Turning in midair, she shot a grappling hook at the underside of the bridge. The line played out, and she hit the ground running.

Up ahead, she could see the shadow of the Winter Soldier on the ground. Natasha tossed the launcher away, and took out a second Makarov. He'd never see her coming.

~~O~~

Movement in the corner of his eye drew Bucky's gaze to a man in jeans, t-shirt, and jacket as he pushed another man to the ground, and vaulted over the side of the bridge to the accompaniment of a hail of bullets. For the briefest of moments, Bucky could've sworn it was Chase.

Bucky jumped down, and ran to the cement barrier. Gripping the top, he searched the ground far below. There were bodies, but none that looked like the man who'd jumped.

An ear-splitting crash drew his, and now Mia's, attention to a car with a crushed roof. A man dressed all in black, festooned with weapons, and a left arm made entirely of metal had landed on the car, walked over the trunk, jumped to the ground, and kept walking as if he were out for a Sunday stroll. His obvious aggressiveness, the leather boots, the deadly sniper rifle gripped in that metal hand, and the almost arrogant shoulder dipping strut set him apart from the others. He turned to the right just far enough that Bucky could see he was wearing a mask as he strode unrelenting through the carnage strewn all over the streets.

To Mia, Bucky whispered, "I have to know if that was Natasha. If she's here, Steve and Chase probably are too." He had one foot over the side when a man all in black grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Whoa there, pal. This area's under evac." The man in a tactical uniform and carrying a scoped rifle nodded in the direction the rest of the drivers and their passengers were being taken. "Go! Or I'll have you arrested."

Straightening to his full six feet, Bucky leveled a glare on the man that had sent many a junior officer into cardiac arrest. "I'm General James Barnes, officer, and…"

"I don't give a flip if you're Captain Freakin' America." The man grabbed Bucky's shoulder, and spun him around. "Get _movin'_."

Mia stepped around Bucky, her hands poised in a gesture he'd come to know, the tiniest bit of electricity sparking at her fingertips. "Get your hands off of him, you-you… prison barber!"

If she used her powers in such a public venue, it would be almost like Tony Stark telling the world he was Iron Man. With security and traffic cameras all over the place, someone was bound to see her, and post the video to social media. Her life, and that of the family, would never be the same. They wouldn't be able to go anywhere without being followed by the press, or worse, the military. Mia might even have to register with the government.

To stop his granddaughter from ruining her life, Bucky grabbed her left hand, spun her around, bent his knees, and tossed her over his shoulder. "We'll be going now, officer. This way?"

~~O~~

Chase landed on the roof of a car, smashing the side windows. He heard running footsteps, and saw Natasha coming toward him. Looking up, he witnessed yet another chilling sight.

The Winter Soldier was waiting for Natasha to come out from under the bridge. She'd be killed, and he couldn't let that happen. He'd told the truth at Sam's place. It was his duty, his _privilege_ to save her life.

Reaching back, he pulled two nine millimeter handguns from the waistband of his pants. He also had extra magazines tucked up nice and cozy in the pockets of his pants. His thumbs took the safety off, and with a rebel yell, he ran into the sun, turned and fired at the men above him. "Yee-hah-ah-ah-ah!"

Natasha saw him, gave him one of her looks that said they'd be talking about where he got the guns later, and kept running while Chase occupied the men and women trying to kill all of them. He didn't hit the targets, but then that wasn't the point. His purpose was served when he chanced a glance and saw Natasha disappearing between a BMW and a wrecked bucket truck.

A lucky shot found its mark, sending the Winter Soldier stumbling back. With the attention off of him, Chase turned and ran in the same direction as Natasha, and poured on the speed.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the red, white and blue of Steve's shield, but couldn't take the time to verify. He was too busy trying to stay alive. They all were.

~~O~~

Eventually, Mia quit kicking and pounding on his back, while screaming for him to put her down. And he did, once they reached the evacuation area. He let her go, and a split second later, she'd punched him in the jaw, jerking his head to the side. It didn't hurt, but he still rubbed the area. He faced her again, wondering at the fact that she reminded him of Connie when they first met, except for the blonde hair.

They wound their way through the other evacuees awaiting transport to the edge of the taped off area. Mia kept her eyes averted, arms crossed, and tapped one foot. When she finally looked at him, she relented, letting out a long huff. "I know why you did it. And… Thanks."

"All part of the service, _vnuchka_." Bucky hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her to him, planting a kiss on her temple.

" _Spasibo,_ _Pápochka_." He looked at her in shock. "Yeah, I know it means father, but I don't know the word for grandfather."

He hugged her tighter for a moment, and let her go. "Prison barber?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Couldn't think of anything else. In middle school, it was the ultimate insult." Still smiling, Mia said, "The cops are looking the other way. Let's go."

Making it seem like he was bored with waiting to be moved out of the area, Bucky dropped his arm, whispering, "Go!" out the side of his mouth.

His granddaughter moved so fast he hadn't seen which direction she'd gone. Bucky bent down, pretending to retie his shoes. When the cops looked away again, he shot to his feet, spun on one foot, and leaped over the barrier in one smooth motion.

Voices shouted at him to stop. Instead, he poured on the speed, and had ducked out of sight a block farther down than they would think to look for him.

When they were gone, he backed up, and started making his way in the direction of the gunfire he could still hear in the distance. A shadow passed over him, but when he looked, nothing was there. No planes, helicopters or birds.

Bucky stopped beside one of the smaller museums, sidled up to the corner, and peeked around. The streets were nearly deserted. Only a few tactical officers dared get this close to the fighting that couldn't be more than a few blocks away.

He was planning his next move when someone touched him on the shoulder.

~~O~~

Lying on the ground where the man had pushed him, Sitwell panted, feeling relief that friendlies had come to his aid. As Rollins approached, he sat up. "Thank _God_ you're here. They kidnapped me, and tried to _kill_ me."

He got to his feet, brushing the bits of rock and dirt from his hands. "I need to speak to Secretary Pierce right away."

Rollins stopped a few feet away, not moving to follow his orders. The man flicked his eyes at the Asset as he jumped over the side, and back to Sitwell. "I have a message from Pierce." He took out a handgun and shot him. "You're fired. Hail HYDRA."

Sitwell found himself on the ground again. He could feel blood blossoming on his left side. Rollins obviously had orders to shoot to kill. However, he had no way of knowing that his target was wearing light-weight Kevlar under his two-thousand-dollar suit. The bullet hit him just under the lower edge of the vest.

He played dead, and when the HYDRA soldiers had moved on, Sitwell climbed painfully to his feet, and made his way off the overpass, turning in the opposite direction of the fighting, pushing his way through the crowds held back by the police. He hailed a cab, and gave an address that didn't appear anywhere in his records. It was a place he could get himself stitched up, and lay low for a while, and plot his revenge. After all he'd done for the cause, and Pierce just tossed him aside.

Sitwell scrounged in the flowerpot on the back porch for the keys, opened the back door, and let himself in through the small kitchen, continuing down the short hall to the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes, tossed them in the tub, and lay the vest on the counter. It was still usable, or would be once the blood was washed off. Next to it lay the smashed bullet.

From the cabinet over the sink, he took down everything he needed to clean and bandage the wound in his side. Turning to look at his back, he saw that the wound was through-and-through. He'd been shot before, and had a supplier who could get him antibiotics to take as a precaution, because there was _no way_ he'd risk dying of septicemia until Pierce paid for his betrayal.

~~O~~

A bullet hit the Asset on the right lens of his goggles, knocking him to the ground. He sat for a moment with his back against the barrier before pulling them off and tossing them aside. The bullet didn't penetrate the lens, but the impact had shut down all functions. He could see better without them.

Gripping the machine gun in both hands, the Asset surged to his feet, firing over the side where the other man had been. But it was too late. Both he and the woman were gone.

His super-powered hearing picked up the woman's voice. She hadn't gotten far. Off to one side, he saw the other man, the one with the shield, running in the same general direction as the woman, and the other man. Something about all of these people was familiar, but he couldn't stop to figure it out now. He had a mission to complete.

To the team, he said, " _Ya budu zabotit'sya o ney. Nayti yego_."

Before they could follow his orders, three of the men went down, shot from behind. The Asset shot at the dark skinned man hunkered behind a totaled car, taking potshots at them.

More men took the place of the ones who were down as the Asset jumped over the side to land on the car below, further crushing the roof. He walked off the hood to the ground and kept going, ignoring the gunfire on the bridge.

~~O~~

From his hiding place behind a row of cars with line of sight on the bridge, Chase watched the Winter Soldier jump onto the same car he'd used to break his fall. He moved with purpose and single-minded determination that looked more like a runway strut than a simple walk.

"Is this a fire fight, or Fashion Week?" Chase scoffed. He continued with that thought, using a falsetto, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we see the Winter Soldier modeling leather and metal, boldly accessorized with advanced personal weaponry. It's _all_ the rage this season. Buy it for the deadly assassin in your life."

~~O~~

Seeing one of HYDRA's goons sighting on Steve, Sam took out his knife, and removed the man from the equation. Steve didn't acknowledge his efforts, and he didn't expect him to. You did what you had to for your friends.

Sam used the weapons he'd taken off the unconscious man at his feet to provide a distraction Steve could go after Natasha and Chase. Once he was out of sight, Sam hightailed it back to what was left of his car, using the K-Bar he'd taken from one of the men to pry open the trunk, and take out the Falcon wingpack.

He shrugged into it, buckled up, and pulled the goggles over his face as he ran back the way he'd come. Using the trunk of a hood of a car as leverage, he leapt into the air, the wings extended, and he flew off in the direction of the fighting.

~~O~~

The Asset stalked the woman through the city streets, past cars that were riddled with bullet holes, using his hearing to track her movements. She'd used her phone as a distraction, causing him to waste one of his small grenades.

He heard running footsteps behind him, but too late. The woman kicked the weapon from his hands, and jumped on his shoulders. She wrapped her thighs around his head and neck, riding him like a mechanical bull. But how he knew what one was, he couldn't recall.

The woman brought out a garrote, and he just managed to get a hand in between it and his neck. He stumbled back against the side of a car, reached back and grabbed her jacket, throwing her against the side of another burning vehicle.

She grunted as she hit the ground, and came up onto one knee, making a throwing motion.

A small silver disc attached itself to his metal arm, discharging electricity, rendering his arm barely functional. He pulled the disc off, clenched his fist, and swung the shoulder joint in a circle to reset the arm.

He picked up the weapon, and followed the woman, still using her voice as a guide. As he came around the corner, there she was, running and waving off the civilians. "Get out of the way! Stay out of the way!"

Her concern for others would be her downfall. He raised the weapon, aiming where he knew she would be appearing between two vehicles, and fired, catching her on the shoulder. She stumbled and fell.

The Asset jumped on the trunk of a car to deliver the final blow that would complete his mission. But before he could pull the trigger, he heard running footsteps coming from two different directions.

The man with the shield reached him first, landing on the hood of the car, and getting the shield up in time to stop the Asset's fist. It rang with the force, as he kicked the shield aside, and planted that same foot in the middle of his stomach, sending him backward onto the concrete.

The other man rolled onto his shoulders and forward to a sitting position, bringing the shield up to deflect his next few shots. The Asset dropped the empty weapon, and rolled off the side of the car as he reached for the weapon strapped between his shoulders.

He fired a constant stream of bullets as he tracked the man behind a car. When the Asset stopped to unjam his weapon, the other man leaped over the car, swinging his right leg around, and knocking the gun out of his hands.

~~O~~

Chase hid behind a burned out minivan waiting for the right moment to join the fight. A few seconds into it, he figured out that there was no right moment, and dived in.

Hefting the rebar over his shoulder like a baseball bat, Chase swung at the Winter Soldier's back. The rebar bent, but was still usable. Good thing, because the Winter Soldier was after _him_ now.

He swung at his head, purposely missing, swinging the bent bar around as he spun to the right, catching his opponent behind the knees. The other man landed on his back, and just as quickly, was on his feet again.

Tossing the rebar aside, Chase took him on hand-to-hand, the Winter Soldier blocking his every punch. Using moves he learned from Natasha, Chase made a jump-spin-kick-fall that would've made her proud, catching him in the stomach. Well, except for the falling part.

The Winter Soldier stumbled back a step, and Steve moved in, swinging the shield, only to have it blocked and pushed aside. Steve kept into the turn, and somehow, the Winter Soldier now had the shield.

Chase moved up next to Steve separated by several feet of concrete, hoping to come at the Winter Soldier from two different directions. But he just stood there holding the shield, his eyes tracking back and forth, as if he weren't seeing them, but was trying to remember something.

What was there to remember? He was a killing machine, and that's all he'll ever be.

By unspoken agreement, he and Steve rushed the Winter Soldier. He cocked his arm, and threw the shield so hard that Chase had to drop to the ground as Steve barely dodged out of the way. The shield plowed into the back of a delivery van, imbedding itself nearly halfway into the metal door.

Ducking into a roll, Chase came to his feet, more than ready to engage the assassin in a fight to the death. As he got close, the Winter Soldier took out a knife, flipping it over so that he held the handle in his fist, coming at Chase across the chest, intent on slitting his throat.

Again, Natasha would be proud, as he blocked each and every attempt the Winter Soldier made to stab him. He flipped the knife into the air just as Steve stepped in between them, giving him a few moments respite. Chase didn't really need it. In the past few months, he'd felt himself getting stronger and stronger. Cuts healed even faster than before, and he'd seen an increase in the sensitivity of his senses all across the board. Maybe he was what Mom called a late bloomer when it came to Gramps' genes.

Whatever. As long as it worked.

Steve spin-kicked the Winter Soldier into the side of an SUV, pressing his advantage by giving him a knee in the stomach. He retaliated by punching Steve in the face. Steve grabbed that arm, and used it to throw the Winter Soldier over his shoulder, and slam him to the ground.

The Winter Soldier was back on his feet in a flash, getting Steve around the throat with his metal hand. He drew back, and threw Steve over the hood of the SUV, jumped on the hood, and off the other side, slamming a fist into the concrete, leaving a huge hole filled with crumbled bits of the road.

Steve rolled out of the way, and Chase moved in, blocking all of the Winter Soldier's punches, until he was driven up against the delivery van. The Winter Soldier brought out another knife, coming at Chase with an overhead strike that he blocked with his right forearm. He was only able to hold it for a few seconds, and just managed to get his head out of the way so that the knife went into the side of the van.

The two men struggled, and though Chase knew he wasn't a physical match for the Winter Soldier, he refused to give up, or give in as he was dragged to the side, the knife cutting a long furrow in the metal.

Ducking under his opponent's arm, he got him in a bear hug, and leaned back, flipping them both end over end. Chase let go, and Steve rushed past to grab the shield from the back of the van, using it to defend himself and Chase as the Winter Soldier brought out yet another knife.

Where was he hiding all those weapons?

He wasn't given long to ponder the imponderable as Steve finally gained an advantage over their opponent, by grabbing his metal arm and using the edge of the shield to cut into it just below the bicep.

The Winter Soldier grabbed Steve under the chin with his right hand, flipping him onto his back, giving Chase the opening he needed.

They grappled for a while, neither one getting the upper hand until Chase got behind him, grabbed his left hand with his own, hyperextending it while at the same time bringing his right arm up hoping to dislocate or damage that shoulder joint.

It must've hurt at least a little, because the Winter Soldier grunted. And while he was off balance, Chase grabbed him under the chin, and flipped him backward.

The Winter Soldier rolled over and over, landing on his feet. The mask came off into the second flip, as the Winter Soldier turned to face them.

Chase's mouth dropped open in shock, his breaths rasping in and out. Steve ran toward the Winter Soldier. Chase grabbed Steve around the chest, stopping him. He nodded at the other man, and he relaxed, also not believing what he was seeing.

Taking a tentative step forward, Chase gulped, and whispered, "Justin?"

There was no recognition on the face he knew better than his own.

Justin took a menacing step forward, and Chase's stomach heaved, threatening to reject its contents at his twin's emotionless, "Who the hell is Justin?"

Still in shock, he stumbled back a step when his brother raised his right arm, and did something he never thought he'd do: pointed a loaded weapon at him.

Chase saw Justin's finger squeeze the trigger, and prepared to die at the hands of the twin brother he thought was dead.

 **TBC**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 45**

At the touch on his shoulder, Bucky made a fist, and spun around, aiming a punch at where he supposed the other person's head would be… And missed. Mia ducked, instinctively zapping him in the stomach. He grunted at the impact.

"Whoa! Hey! It's me!"

Relieved that he hadn't hit her, Bucky touched her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby girl. Didn't hear you."

She smirked. "We're on a secret mission, Gramps. You weren't _supposed_ to hear me." Moving past him, she craned her neck to see what was going on, but the streets in front of them were clear. "I hear fighting. Let's go."

Bucky stopped her. "Secret means we keep a low profile. Can't just go marching down Independence Avenue in plain sight."

Mia turned her head, and concentrated. "My best guess is they're on Constitution and First northeast."

"Not bad." Bucky motioned for Mia to follow. In a crouching run, they darted across the sidewalk to the street, hunkering down between two SUVs with a covered motorcycle parked in just the right spot to hide them. "Just up from Maryland Avenue."

An explosion startled them both, and by silent agreement, they broke into a run, darting from one vehicle to the next. A row of manicured hedges provided additional cover when several black motorcycles, SUVs and armored trucks raced past their hiding place with sirens blaring, the drivers paying no attention to the traffic laws. But then, if what Bucky thought was happening really was happening, Natasha, Steve and Chase would need all the help they could get. Even unarmed, Bucky knew he was a more than decent fighter. But put a weapon in his hands, and he was formidable. And with her powers, Mia was no slouch in that department either. _I wonder what else she can do_.

Her mouth close to his ear, Mia said, "I have a _really_ bad feeling about this, Gramps."

"You, me and several hundred million people around the world, because I know the news agencies are on this like a Velcro suit."

Abandoning their hiding place, the pair took off running, keeping to the sidewalk until they came upon a frightening scene. Again, they hid out of sight.

More than thirty men and women, most in black SWAT-type uniforms, and the rest in suits, had surrounded the trio, forcing them to their knees. One man raised his weapon, and held it against Steve's head. The man next to him barked an order that had something to do with the chopper hovering over the scene, while another removed two handguns from where they'd been shove into Chase's back waistband.

The weapon was lowered, and a fourth man, African-American, and wearing what looked like a high-tech backpack, were stripped of their weapons, included the backpack, and Steve's shield. Restraints with electronic locks were snapped around their wrists, and they were led to the box truck.

From their vantage point, Bucky could see blood on the left shoulder of Natasha's jacket. While he watched the scene in horrid fascination, Mia had been scanning the surrounding area. A sharp intake of breath, and her hand clamped on his arm finally brought his gaze from the heartbreaking scene.

Mia pointed, to a figure in black and silver with a red star on the left arm. She tugged on his sleeve, motioning for him to follow. And knowing he could do nothing for the four in the truck right now, he followed, his mind still trying to process all that they had just witnessed.

They'd jogged about three blocks when Mia dropped down behind a sports car that had somehow escaped damage. Peeking over the hood, she signed, _Look_ , and pointed.

The footsteps of the man in black and silver faltered as he neared the mouth of an alley. He put out his left arm, and that's when they saw that it was biomechanical, and not armor as Bucky had originally thought.

More sirens blasted through the air, sending birds into the sky. The man glanced over his shoulder, and they could see his face clearly for the first time.

At first, Mia was unable to speak, her mouth opening and closing. Then she swallowed hard, and when she looked at Bucky, her eyes were wide and unblinking, no doubt mirroring his own expression of shock and disbelief.

Though his hearing was exceptional, he barely heard her whispered, "Oh, my _God_! Gramps, it's… it's…"

"… _Justin_ ," he finished for her.

~~O~~

His finger on the trigger, the Asset hesitated barely a second. Again, the men in front of him seemed familiar. He felt that if he could find the right lens, he would be able to see them clearly enough to recall their names. He examined his orders, but didn't see a way to not kill them, and still fulfill his mission. The woman had to be sanctioned. The men were between him and her, therefore, they must die.

He was saved from making a decision when he heard a whoosh just before he was kicked aside. The weapon flew from his hands as he rolled to his feet, and turned to engage the new threat. A man with wings hovered above him, cocked his arms back, and forward. Two weapons slid into his hands, and he immediately fired. The Asset jumped and spun, easily avoiding the bullets.

The woman, leaning against the van to stay on her feet, aimed a grenade launcher at him, and fired. The man who'd called him Justin shouted, " _No!_ " And the other, the one with the shield, deflected the grenade. The vehicle to his right exploded, and the Asset used the distraction, and the sirens screaming in the distance, to get away.

The Asset ran down the street for several blocks, turned left then right, and kept going as brief glimpses of another life flashed through his mind, taking him through the gauntlet of emotions.

 _A man and woman, arms around each other, and a mixture of affection and annoyance._

 _Grief while watching a coffin being lowered into the ground._

 _Annoyance and affection for a young woman with dark hair that had lighter streaks in it. Beside her, he saw another woman, shorter hair, hands making shapes in the air. Don't be an ass, Justin._

 _The taller of the two men he'd been fighting with standing beside another man, and the intense affection he had for the one with the long hair and blue eyes._

 _A petite woman with dark hair, smiling down at him as he lay in bed, her body covered only by a sheet. His mind filled with affection again, but different than what he experienced with the others. The woman lifted the sheet, and rolled over on top of him, brushing hair from his face, and leaning down to kiss him on the mouth._

 _Playing the piano, and singing with a group of people, including the ones in his mind._

Then there was the other man. The one who'd called him Justin. The feelings surrounding him were as varied as the others, yet always tempered with an indefinable connection that he didn't share with anyone else.

Pain made the area over his right eye throb. He rubbed the spot, and when he lowered his arm, the hand was shaking. The feeling flowed into the rest of his body like a fast moving train, causing him to stumble, and he would've fallen if he hadn't caught hold of the lower branch of a tree.

Taking a deep breath, he moved out of the open, stopping at the mouth of another alley to lean against the wall, supported by his left arm. A siren screeched, and he glanced over his shoulder, making the world spin. He moved fully into the alley, and dropped down to sit with his back against the wall. Putting his head between his knees helped the vertigo somewhat.

Lifting his head, the Asset let it fall back, using the wall for support. When the world around him stopped spinning, or had at least slowed down, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the shiny metal of his left arm. He held the hand up in front of his face next to the right, flexing the fingers of both, comparing the actions.

When he looked at the palm, he could see a face reflected there, and while it wasn't an exact copy of the man who'd called him Justin, he could see the resemblance. The hair was the same color, as were the eyes. He traced the shape of his nose and chin, and pushed the hair back, turning side to side. There, on both sides, a little more than an inch from the corners of his mouth, he found slight indentions. Experimentally, he smiled, and the indentions deepened. Searching his memory, he found a word to describe them: dimples. He'd seen them on the faces of the couple, and the older man with the long hair. The size, shape, and positioning were a near-perfect match to the ones he possessed.

 _Could_ they be related? Is that why the man had called him Justin? Because he _knew_ him?

The Asset closed his eyes, and concentrated on the images in his mind, focusing on the man he felt closest to, and saw the two of them fighting. No, it wasn't a real fight. It was play. The Asset got an arm around his neck, made a fist with the other hand, and rubbed the knuckles over the top of his head, making him yelp in pretend pain.

And then it came to him. Not like lightning striking. More as if he were moving toward the scene at a moderate walk, the image becoming larger and more clear the closer he got until he could see only what was in front of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice in his ear ordering him to report to the rendezvous point. But he wasn't ready to do that yet. He still had too many things to think about, like his brother.

The reality of that revelation slammed into him. His eyes flicked side to side, and he spoke out loud. "Chase. His-his name is… Chase. He's my brother. No. He's my-my _twin_."

~~O~~

Sitting next to Sam, Natasha let her head rest against the tinted window of the van as it bumped and jostled over the uneven road. She wished there was something she could do to comfort Chase. Something besides spout platitudes.

Steve and Chase faced them, the younger man tapping the toes of his shoes in an angry rhythm. "You all saw. It was _him_. It was _Justin_. He looked right _at me,_ and didn't even know me." Chase shook his head. "How is that even possible, Nat? My _twin_ , who was declared dead over two years ago is alive."

Sam kept watch on Natasha while speaking to Steve. "You said Justin was killed by a bear. That only his arm was found."

Steve's chest expanded as he took a deep breath. "Zola. Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky live a greatly extended lifespan free of diseases brought on by age." Steve shook his head sadly. "He passed those genes onto his children, grandchildren, and possibly his great-grandchildren. That must be what helped Justin survive the attack in the woods. If I had found Bucky in that lab sooner…"

"None of that's your fault, Steve," Chase reminded him. "You got there as quickly as you could. Gramps doesn't blame you, and neither do I. It's that a*****e, Zola. If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him."

A scoff came from Sam. "And how, exactly, would you do that? We're not on a pleasure cruise here. They're going to _kill_ us, and hide our bodies so they won't be found until the next century, if then."

Fighting dizziness, Natasha kept out of the conversation, recalling an incident that she hadn't thought much of at the time, though it should've raised a red flag.

 **More Than Two Years Ago**

When no one responded to his knock, Justin let himself into his grandfather's home. Natasha's car was in the driveway, and Gramps' was gone. "Nat?"

Her voice floated down from the second floor, " _In the upstairs bathroom!_ "

He heard an angry yowl and splashing as he climbed the stairs three at a time, stopping in the bathroom doorway. Natasha was in the process of giving Archie a bath, and he was not a happy kitty. "This must be the fun part of having a pet," he quipped to his grandfather's fiancée.

Natasha poured water over Archie's back, squeezed the water from his fur, and took the towel Justin handed her. Once she had the cat swaddled, she handed him to Justin. " _Ne vsyo kotu maslenitsa, budet i velikiy post._ "

In his head, Justin heard the translation to Natasha's comment. _Not every day is a Shrovetide, in time it will be a Lent_ , or the English equivalent: _Life's not all beer and skittles; Life's not all wine and roses; I never promised you a bed of roses; I never promised you a rose garden_.

He rubbed Archie with the towel, responding absentmindedly, " _Net khuda bez dobra_." _There's no bad without the good,_ or _Every cloud has a silver lining_. The cat wiggled free, and he let him go. "You love them, and in return, they love you back. Win-win, Nat. Who's next?"

Without turning from rinsing out the tub, she stated, "The last one. The troublemaker."

Justin pushed off the doorjamb, and stepped into hall. "Where _is_ Ryder?"

"Either sleeping on James' side of the bed, his office chair, or the cat tree in his office. They bonded."

After checking the bedroom, Justin took a shortcut down to the first floor by jumping over the balcony railing. He landed in front of the partially open office door, gave himself a mental pat on the back, and pushed into the room.

Ryder was laying on the top tier of the cat tree, his tail lazily swishing side to side. "Hey, boy. How you doing, Ryder?" Justin reached over to give his ears a scratch like he had many times before, snatching his hand out of the way when the black and white cat swatted at him with claws out, hissed, and growled a warning. A second later, he was gone, and the cat tree was on its side.

"What the hell?" He righted the tree, and returned to the second floor, hearing Natasha speaking in the soothing tones she reserved for the cats. The second Justin appeared in the bathroom doorway, Ryder, who was in Natasha's arms, and glaring over her shoulder at him, hissed again.

"What did you _do_ to him, Justin? He's never come to me for protection before."

Bewildered, Justin shrugged dramatically. "Not a damn thing! I swear! Didn't even touch him. He just hissed at me, and took off like his tail was on fire."

 **Present Day**

It occurred to Natasha that Ryder must've sensed something different about Justin, and wished the cat could tell her what he was feeling that day. That and speaking Russian like a native should have set off her alarms, but she'd been too involved with bathing the cats, and Ryder's strange behavior, to think about it at the time.

If she had noticed, they might have been able to stop HYDRA from turning him into the Winter Soldier. But then that would mean Bucky would still be under their control. She hated Catch-22s. It was like forcing a mother to choose between her children, her child and her husband… or her fiancé and his grandson. She would rather die herself than have to make that decision.

"…I thought my world ended when my twin brother had been officially declared dead. But even then, at least I had my memories of him and me, good and bad. And to find out he's been alive all this time, and doesn't know me… It's… it's like he's been taken from me all over again." He lifted his shackled hands awkwardly to brush the hair out of his eyes with an angry motion. "S***! What am I gonna tell my family?"

Natasha moaned involuntarily at the pain in her shoulder, barely able to stay conscious. Sam touched her on the leg, but she didn't respond. Through a slight ringing in her ears, she heard Sam tell the guards, "We need a doctor here. We don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck."

Chase lifted his hands, and turned so they could see that he was bleeding too. "She's not the only one. But I guess it doesn't matter, 'cause they're gonna kill us."

"When did you get hit?" Steve asked.

"Just before I jumped off the bridge. It wasn't Justin," he tacked on as an afterthought.

The guard closest to Sam pulled out an electric rod, the end crackling and sparking, using it to threaten the prisoners. Or so they thought.

That same guard flipped the rod, and shoved it into the chest of the other guard, then kicked him in the face. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. The rod was tossed aside, then the guard unbuckled the chin strap, and pulled off the helmet revealing herself to be Maria Hill. "Ouch. That thing was squeezing my brain."

Four faces gaped at her. Hill looked from Sam to Chase in confusion, pushed the hair out of her face, and said, "Who're those guys?"

~~O~~

"Let's follow 'em. Come on." Staying low to the ground, Mia went around to the driver's door of the sports car and tried the door. Locked. _S***!_

She continued her quest down to the corner before finding a vehicle with the doors unlocked. The 2010 grey Honda Accord was indistinguishable from other similar vehicles, given that manufacturers had declared that most mid-sized four-door sedans should come in shades of grey, silver, and a browny color. In this vehicle, they'd likely go unnoticed by the bad guys who'd taken their family, and were no doubt planning their deaths at this very moment.

Looking back, Mia found that Bucky hadn't followed her like she told him. She got into the driver's seat, pulled it forward, and put on the seat belt. Rubbing her thumb, middle, and index fingers together to generate a charge, she zapped the ignition. The car started, and she shifted into drive, stopping next to the sports car where they'd hidden before seeing Justin.

He grandfather was sitting on the ground, his back against the car's front fender, knees up, hands hanging between them. She got out, and crouched next to him. "Gramps?"

"Huh?" The faraway look in his eyes gave her pause. He blinked and looked around as if just now realizing where he was. Mia took his hand, urging him to stand and follow her to the car, getting into the passenger seat, and buckling up. Something was seriously wrong if he didn't make a fuss about her doing the driving. He propped his elbow on the edge of the closed window, knuckles pushed into his cheek in thought.

They'd gone about a half mile behind the motorcade when Bucky finally spoke up. "This is all my fault. Everything is _my fault_."

"How d'you figure?"

"After my unit was captured, I had a chance to get away, to return to our base camp in Italy. But Schmidt appeared in front of me, looking like pure evil with that disgusting grin of his. He told me I was free to go, however, if I chose to leave, he would kill one man every ten minutes until I returned. And to prove it, he shot someone right between the eyes. He died instantly. So I stayed."

Sad on her grandfather's behalf, Mia glanced at him and back to the street. "You didn't have a choice, Gramps. Stay, be experimented on, and _maybe_ die, or leave, and everyone else dies for sure. That Schmidt guy would've just gone out and gotten a new crop of subjects for his experiments, and you and all the others would still be dead. Or, you could've gotten away, come home, and died of old age, and been an alcoholic, or drug addict to deal with the guilt. You wouldn't have married Grams, had kids, grandkids, or great-grandkids, and friends who look up to you as a role model."

"That's just it. I never _wanted_ to be a role model, Mia. Just a guy who worked hard to provide for his family, and…"

Mia shushed him. "They're turning down that alley." She drove on by without even glancing their way, turned the corner, and parked. "Got any ideas how to rescue them?"

Bucky shrugged, visualizing and discarding several scenarios. "Let's just play it by ear." He looked around, and pointed. "There."

A few minutes later, the duo crept down the alley to the mouth of a corrugated tunnel, and ducked behind a dumpster. They cautiously peeked over the top just as the leader stalked to the rear of the truck that held their family, a gun in his hand.

"Four holes. Start digging," he barked at the men behind him.

At the back of the truck, he nodded to one of the men, and the doors were opened. The men stood there in stunned silence for a few seconds, then the leader started issuing orders for the prisoners to be found. Apparently, the quartet had engineered their own escape.

Bucky and Mia looked at each other, and shrugged. They went back to the car, got inside, and sat there for a few minutes, thinking. "What now? Where would they go?" Mia asked, at a loss to even make a guess.

"Natasha probably has some secret hideaway where they can hole-up until they come up with a plan for what to do next."

"We have no idea what's going on. _Why_ is Steve considered a fugitive? What could he have done that the government he's sworn to protect would put a warrant out for his arrest? Why is Nat with him? And how did Chase get weapons? He's a computer geek, not a soldier. And let's not forget Justin." Mia started the car, and pulled into the street with no real destination in mind. "How could he have survived the bear attack?'

Bucky's forehead creased in thought. "It was faked, obviously. But was it by the same people who'd been manipulating me for the last seven decades? And did they do it because I got free of their influence, or had the plan been to replace me with Justin when or if I died, or became too old to continue? How many people did I kill for them, whoever they are, before Bruce severed the connection? How many has _Justin_ killed?"

"All good questions. To get the answers, we have to find Nat and Steve. Find them, we find the people who did this to you, _and_ to Justin, because we're agreed that they're probably one and the same."

"Once we know who, and why, we should be able to figure out how to take them down." His phone rang, and the display said "unknown". Hoping it was Natasha, Mia mentally crossed her fingers as Bucky said, "Barnes."

~~O~~

The Asset heard voices in the headset that seemed to be talking about him as if he couldn't hear or understand. He rubbed his forehead to ease the ache when a voice addressed him directly.

" _Soldat, vernut'sya k tochke randevu._ _Ty kopiruyesh'?_ "

It brought his attention to the fact that he'd spoken English a few moments ago, not Russian as he'd been ordered. Then, another voice interrupted. This time it was in his head.

 _When you begin to remember who you are,_ _and you will,_ _do nothing that will make the others suspicious, or doubt that their weapon is working at less than peak efficiency. Go along with whatever they say. Do_ _not_ _forget to speak of the mission exclusively, and only in Russian, especially when the leader is present. Do_ _not_ _give opinions, make suppositions, show independent thought or express curiosity._

A face floated in his memory of a tall woman, plain, with grey hair, and slender. In the memory, she stood behind a tall man with white hair, and an arrogant glint in his eyes. He looked down the Asset as he was released from the chair, holding out a folder.

Inside, the Asset found the photo of an elderly woman with white hair lying in bed, hands folded on top of the covers, and her eyes closed. It included a name and address.

The other man, the one holding the tattered red book with a black star on the cover, spoke three words that now filled the Asset's mind with dread, and made his stomach clench.

 _Sanktsiya, i vozvrashcheniye_. _Nyet svideteley_.

 **TBC**

As always, the Russian came from Google Translate, and may not be grammatically correct. If you know the correct way to say the below phrases, please PM me.

 _Ne vsyo kotu maslenitsa, budet i velikiy post._

Translation: Not every day is a Shrovetide. In time it will be a Lent.

English equivalent: Life's not all beer and skittles; Life's not all wine and roses; I never promised you a bed of roses; I never promised you a rose garden.

 _Net khuda bez dobra_.

Translation: There's no bad without the good.

English equivalent: Every cloud has a silver lining.

 _Soldat, vernut'sya k tochke randevu._ _Ty kopiruyesh'?_ = Soldier, return to the rendezvous point. Do you copy?

 _Sanktsiya, i vozvrashcheniye_ = Sanction, and return

 _Nyet svideteley_ = No witnesses.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

I've been told by several people that the Barnes family lineage is still a bit confusing. Maybe this will help:

Bucky was married to Connie for 60 years. She died 6-8 years ago.

They had 4 kids: Carolyn, Steven James, Olivia, Jacob.

Carolyn is married to Martin. They have 4 kids: Joi, Justin, Chase, Serenity. The boys are fraternal twins. Serenity is married to Collin. Serenity and Collin are deaf, and don't plan on having kids.

Steven James is married to Suzanna. They have 2 kids, Noah and Emily, who live out of state with their spouses and children (unnamed).

Olivia is married to Michael. They have one daughter, Nicole, who has one child, Gracie, Bucky's youngest great-grandchild.

Jacob was married to Alicia (Ah-LEE-cee-ah), but she passed away when their daughter, Mia, was four. Mia is the only member of the Barnes family to manifest a "power", so far.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 46**

The voice in his ear called to him again, sounding angry. " _Soldat? Otvechat'! Ty kopiruyesh'?_ "

The time for indulging in theories was over. The Asset got to his feet, and tapped the headset, already on his way to meet the team. " _Da, ya kopiruyu. Tri minuty._ "

Before he came into sight of the vehicles and personnel, the Asset slowed to a walk, keeping his gaze straight ahead. The door to the black van was open. He got into the back, passed over all weapons except the one he'd hidden, just like the woman's voice told him to do. He sat in his usual seat, hands on his thighs, staring at the floor while his thoughts spun around and around.

Each time one of the men or women referred to him as the Asset, he wanted to correct them. _My name is_ _Justin_ _. I am_ _not_ _an asset, or a thing, and I am_ _not_ _a weapon. I'm just as human as you are._ Then the light would reflect off his metal arm, reminding him that he wasn't human any longer. Not completely.

He had sudden the urge to move his feet, tap the top of his thighs in rhythm, and hum a song. But why? Inside his head, he saw a man who looked like him playing the piano, but without the hardness in his features, and definitely no biomechanical arm. The smiling man in his vision was happy, and loving, and was loved in return.

 _Will I ever be that man again?_

Another scene flashed through, sending the previous one on its way. This time, he was holding the door open while another man carried a box labeled Sean's B-Room S***. The man was the same height as Justin, clean shaven, with impeccably styled sable brown hair past his chin, dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes, a slim, yet strong build, and a voice that made women _and_ men swoon at his feet. In fact, that's why they were parting ways. Sean's band, Ambiguous, was leaving on a European tour.

Justin had warm feelings for the man. And again, they were similar yet different from the other people he was seeing in his mind. He heard himself tell him, _"_ _Aller en France, et mettre le feu au monde_ _, mon ami_."

At the door, Sean switched the box to his left arm, and hugged Justin with the right. Nothing big, just a quick squeeze, and he was gone.

The sentiments he associated with Sean confused Justin. Though the scene appeared to be a break-up, he also remembered that the main emotion he felt at the time was relief. He'd been relieved that he no longer had to pretend to be someone he wasn't so Sean would stay with him.

As a young boy, he'd grown his hair long in imitation of… the man's name escaped him. He was older, a parent or grandparent maybe. A man he looked up to, and admired for so many reasons.

Then Sean came along, and Justin had cut his hair short for him. He'd changed who he was to fit Sean's ideal of the perfect mate. They had lived together in Justin's condo for a little over a year, and from the beginning, it felt more like they were roommates rather than romantic partners.

He hadn't immediately told family and friends about Sean moving out because he hadn't wanted to be seen as a failure in their eyes. Eventually, he came to see that this thinking was a sort of Persian Flaw. Until then, he thought the love he got from those close to him was contingent upon how successful he was at whatever he set out to do. Eventually, he realized that his family and friends would love and stand by him no matter what, and he came clean.

Involuntarily, he pushed a hand through his hair, banishing the errant thoughts. He was just now remembering who he was, but how long had he been oblivious, controlled by the doctors, the soldiers, and the man he thought of as the leader?

What was the date? Had he been gone for weeks, months, or years? Was his family still looking for him, or had they given up long ago? Based on the reactions of the man he now knew as his twin brother, it had to be the latter.

 **Good Eats Diner**

 **Piscataway, Maryland**

Pulling the cap low over his eyes, Jasper Sitwell scooted into a booth in the center back of the diner where he could have his back to the wall, and still see who came and went. The server poured coffee into his cup, and left the carafe while he looked over the menu, mentally cringing.

Just a few days ago, he'd shared lunch with one of the most influential men in the country, at an exclusive restaurant in D.C., in clothing that had been tailored to fit his specific measurements. Now he was hiding from law enforcement agencies wearing blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket that had seen better days. The scent of food cooking led him to a diner where they had a sign in the window advertising the blue-plate special for six bucks, including dessert and coffee. Six bucks wouldn't even cover the _tip_ at his usual meal haunts.

When the server came back, he ordered the first thing on the menu that sounded even vaguely familiar: chicken and dumplings. A few minutes later, a garden salad covered in a pinkish-orange sauce was placed in front of him. As unappetizing as it looked, he was too hungry to care. Sitwell pushed the lettuce leaves around the bowl to coat them with the dressing, stabbed a few pieces of lettuce and tomato, and chewed. The taste of the dressing caught him by surprise, bringing with it a nip of nostalgia that reminded him of Sunday dinners at home with the family.

That bar was raised within seconds of inhaling the fragrance of the chicken and dumplings. Sitwell closed his eyes, and a picture of his mother's face floated before him. When he opened them again, the bowl was empty.

He pushed the coffee away, and signaled for the server, whispering a few words that sent her scurrying back to the prep area. When she came back this time, she had a tall glass and a fat straw. About the time his chocolate shake had disappeared, the server was back again. She gave him a quick smile, left the check, and rushed to greet the customers coming in the door.

Sitwell wiped his mouth on the paper napkin, dropped a few bills on the table, and picked up the check, stopping at the register on his way out. Apparently they didn't take your payment at the table like he was used to.

The front door jangled as he exited to the parking lot. His side ached where the bandages pulled at his skin from the bullet wounds. He pressed a hand to it as he got behind the wheel of an old Chevrolet Blazer, a vehicle guaranteed to go unnoticed while he moved through the D.C. area plotting his revenge on Alexander Pierce. Because he knew how the land lay in the political arena, as well as HYDRA and SHIELD, it should be a simple matter to gain entrance to the Triskelion again.

From under the front seat, Sitwell brought out a box, opened the lid, and took out the objects it held, all the documents he needed to change his identity, including a mask. Holding up the mesh mask, he noted how innocent it looked, like a piece of cloth with a strange texture. But it was so much more than that. With this, he could become someone else. It was the perfect disguise.

 **Secret HYDRA Base**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Justin's hyper-aware senses felt someone staring at him. Keeping in mind the directions from the woman, he didn't look to see who it was. Not long after, the truck came to a stop. The man in charge, the one with the beard, ordered him out. Justin did as he was told, and followed him to the room with the chair.

Several people in white coats, the doctors, were waiting for him. The only woman stepped forward, speaking in Russian. "Come with us." To the man standing behind her, she said, "Secretary Pierce has ordered that he be prepared for the next phase in our plan." She saw the damage to his metal arm. "Repairs must also be made to the arm."

A millisecond before he instinctively told the woman to **** off, he recognized hers as the voice was turning him back into himself. Justin… Justin… He had a middle and a last name, but couldn't recall them just yet, except for the feeling that the middle name had been a source of embarrassment since he was a child.

The soldiers stood around watching as the doctors strapped him into the chair, and positioned a magnifier to better see the damage. Over her shoulder, the woman stated in a voice not meant to be trifled with, "Clear the room. He must have as little external stimulation as possible."

Huffing, the bearded man, nodded, and the soldiers left them alone.

The woman stood in front of him, leaning close to adjust the placement of the head gear with the man hovering nearby. To him, she said, "Dr. Volkov, go to the supply closet, the one over near the lab, and bring the set of tools from the closet. They're in a black case no more than nine inches long, with a fingerprint scanner over the lock. You will find it on the top shelf, in the back. Take a ladder."

"Yes, Dr. Utkin." Though it was apparent that the man didn't want to go, he did, leaving Justin and the woman alone.

Her hand dipped into the left pocket of her coat, and came out with two small devices that she surreptitiously affixed to his temples between the helmet and his skin. As though speaking to herself, she said, "I wonder if you know what has been happening, _malenkii_. If you're becoming more than what HYDRA made you to be."

In his memory, which, granted, had many holes, he recalled that she often spoke to him as if he were a child. No, not just a child. _Her_ child.

"Perhaps, someday, you will return to your old life. Once you have done that, you won't remember Dr. Zeya Utkin as the one who freed you from the mental and physical prison that had been thrust upon you without your consent, and which HYDRA had previously done to your grandfather. I will become just another memory you delegate to the past. And after I am gone, you will think of me, and maybe smile at the memory."

Knowing that he'd been programmed not to engage in conversation outside of the mission, Justin had to let her know that the plan was working in the only way he could. When she had finished with the helmet that fit a little too snugly over his head, Zeya, as he now thought of her, examined the wrist shackles with much more concentration than was required. They were electronically controlled, and didn't need manual adjustments.

Zeya moved around to where she was now blocking the cameras on that side of the room, though he couldn't tell if it was on purpose or by accident. Without turning his head, Justin took hold of her hand and gave it a small squeeze, eliciting a sharp intake of breath though her expression didn't change.

Her eyes sought and held his, and he blinked slowly just once to signal that he understood. Zeya returned the smile, then abruptly went to the computer controls, and typed rapidly on the keyboard. Soon, the other man returned. The one called Volkov.

He set the case on the edge of the desk, and came to stand in front of Justin, peering into his eyes while pretending to check over the cables and wires that led into the top of the helmet. Turning his head, he attempted to read over Zeya's shoulder. What she was doing couldn't have been of interest because he abruptly moved over to another set of controls, ignoring Justin and Zeya for the next twenty minutes.

Then he raised his voice to be heard over the sounds inside and outside of the room, "Dr. Utkin, it's time for my mid-afternoon snack." He turned his left wrist over, and pulled the sleeve up to look at his watch. "I will be back in exactly twelve minutes."

"Of course, Dr. Volkov. Take as long as you like. I can do the repairs, and conditioning myself."

Volkov strode from the room without another word, and Justin had no doubt that when this man said twelve minutes, he would be back in twelve minutes, and not a moment sooner or later.

Internally, Justin snorted. How could someone live such a regimented life? Even the military allowed for individuality in their troops.

The door closed behind Volkov with an electronic click, and immediately, Zeya pressed a small disc to the underside of the main control console. A series of small vibrations that Justin hadn't realized he could feel in his metal arm stopped, telling him that the cameras and audio had been disrupted, and they were free to speak.

She rushed to his side, her expression uneasy, yet determined. "Your _name_ , _soldat_. Tell me your name."

For a long moment, Justin wondered if it was a test. If he spoke his true name, and she wasn't what she appeared, they would use the machine to which he'd been hooked up to torture, and remove what little of his true self had emerged. If she truly wanted to help him, then saying his name would let her know that the plan, whatever it was, had worked. He made the decision to trust her.

Letting his eyes meet and hold hers, he smiled, startling her. "My name is Justin."

 **The Cave**

After the revelation that the man the news agencies said had been killed, Nick Fury, the head of SHIELD, wasn't dead, and that he had an elaborate plan to take down the Insight helicarriers, Chase needed air. He excused himself, and headed down the long tunnel to the entrance through which Hill had brought them, and stepped outside, leaving the door propped open so he could get back in.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, he wandered out to the center of the bridge, and stared up into the sky, thinking about the summer he and Justin were fifteen. At their birthday party, his brother, older by twelve minutes, had announced to one and all that he was gay. With a few exceptions, no one had been surprised.

That summer, Bucky had taken them to the indoor gun range to teach them how to handle weapons. It had taken some doing, but their mother had grudgingly agreed, and Chase had hardly been able to contain his excitement. Justin had taken the news in stride, as if he'd known all along what Mom's answer would be.

 **More Than Ten Years Ago**

Going to the front window, Chase pulled the curtain aside so he could look up and down the street. Huffing, he went back to pacing, swinging his arms, and popping his fist against the opposite palm.

His fraternal twin, Justin, was lying in one of the armchairs, both legs over the back, and his head hanging off the seat. He was playing a hand-held game, his manner relaxed, and unconcerned about their planned outing.

On Chase's tenth lap from the piano to the front window, without looking up from his game, Justin said, "Sit _down_ , little brother. He'll be here when he gets here."

"He's _late_."

"No, he isn't. Still has a couple of- _Hah!_ -minutes."

As he reached the chair, Justin automatically spun around, and sat up so Chase could perch on the arm. "How can you be so _calm_? This is a rite of passage for our family. An event that marks an important stage in our lives. We won't be kids anymore, Justin."

Sighing dramatically, Justin turned off the game, and set it aside. "Chazzie, this isn't a Rumspringa, Quinceañera, or a Mitzvah, nor are we going on Walkabout." He reached down to retie his sneakers, and stood. "Gramps is just gonna teach us how to shoot."

Justin went to the mirror in the short hallway between the living room and the dining room to check his hair, and Chase joined him. "Aren't you nervous though? What if we suck?"

"What if we do? Don't get your boxers in a bunch over it." He shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned.

Chase leaned his back against the wall next to the stairs. "I don't wanna disappoint him, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." The older twin opened the front door. "You comin'?"

Confused, Chase joined him. "Where we goin'?"

"Outside. Gramps just turned onto our street."

Sure enough, their grandfather pulled into the driveway a few moments later. "How do you always know?" Bucky stayed in the car while their grandmother got out. They each accepted a kiss from Grams, and before Chase could call shotgun, Justin was already in it buckling his seatbelt. "I get shotgun on the way back, Just."

"We'll see," his brother said with a smirk.

~~O~~

An hour later, Bucky parked in front of the gun range. Inside, they were greeted by one of the instructors who happened to be a friend of his. Bucky had been a member of the club since before the boys were born, and often taught classes.

When told they would have to sit through a beginner's gun safety course, Justin whined the loudest. However, Bucky was firm on this point. Safety would always be the number one concern when handling a weapon.

Later, at the indoor range, Bucky stayed with the boys, and occasionally helped out with others from the class, paying close attention to the older of this grandsons.

Justin was having trouble hitting the target. His shots either went too high or too low. Bucky came up behind him, and reached around to make small adjustments to how he was holding the Ruger, and the way he was standing. "…align the sights with your dominant eye, and when you're ready, squeeze."

The shot hit inside the outer ring this time, not even close to the bull's eye. Frustrated, Justin put the safety on, and laid the weapon on the counter. "I don't see how _Chase_ can be better at this than me."

"Don't worry about your brother. Relax, and try it again." Bucky backed away so he wouldn't crowd the boy as he picked up the next weapon, took off the safety, and aimed. "Bend your elbows slightly, adjust your aim down and to the left just a little, and… Fire!"

A split second before Justin squeezed the trigger, he moved his right foot. Because his center of gravity was now in the wrong place, the force of the shot knocked him over backwards. Bucky quickly stepped forward, and the boy fell into his arms. Needless to say, he missed the target by a wide margin.

Annoyed, and frustrated, Justin laid the weapon on the counter, pushed Bucky away, and stormed off. Bucky spoke to another instructor who agreed to keep an eye on Chase while he went after Justin.

Bucky found the boy outside, flipping his ear protection into the air, and catching it over and over, seeming to instinctively know where it would come down. He understood Justin's anger and annoyance. Everything the boy had ever set out to do, he accomplished. But how to get him to accept the fact that he won't be good at everything without it sounding like a sermon? Tough love, then.

He popped the boy on the shoulder. "Stop being an _ass_ , Justin. It's possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. And that's _not_ a weakness. It's just how life works. Your thing is music and entertaining. Chase just happens to be better at shooting. With practice, you could be as good, or even better, _if_ you're willing to put the time in. Or you could let your brother have this one thing that he does better than you besides computers. What d'you say?"

Chase came out the front door carrying two rolled up sheets of paper. He handed one to Justin. "Brought you a souvenir, big brother." He unrolled the other to show that he'd hit the bull's eye five times. "Gonna hang mine on the wall next to my autographed Third Eye Blind poster."

When it came time to leave, Justin climbed into the back seat, buckled his seat belt, and spent the trip home moping. Bucky pulled into the driveway, and shifted into park. Turning sideways so he could see both boys, he gave Chase a shoulder punch, and patted Justin's knee. "Just remember I'll always be here for both of you, till the end of the line."

 **The Cave**

Chase was jolted abruptly from his daydream by Sam and Steve. Exhaling, long and silent, he leaned on the stone railing, staring out over the water.

"He's going to be at Insight, you know."

Again, Chase took a deep breath, and let it out. "I know."

"I don't really want to be the one to say it, but someone has to." Sam's tone was apologetic, showing that he sincerely cared what Chase, Steve and Natasha were going through after only a few hours' acquaintance. "Whoever he used to be, the guy he is now… I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop."

Shaking his head, Chase turned to face his companions, his eyes mostly on Steve who would understand where he was coming from. "He's my _brother_ , Sam. My _twin_. I can't do that."

Sam crossed his arms, looked at the ground, and back up. "He might not give you, or _us_ , a choice. He doesn't know any of you."

"He will." Determined, Steve headed toward the SUV they'd arrived in. "Come on, Chase."

The young man followed. "Where're we going?"

"If you're going to fight a war, you need a uniform." Over his shoulder, he said to Sam, "Tell 'em to suit up."

Chase took shotgun, and waited until they were on the narrow dirt road that would take them back to the city to ask, "Where do we get uniforms without being arrested?"

The small grin turned up only the side Chase could see of Steve's face. "You'll see."

~~O~~

"You think Gramps and Mia made it home alright?"

One shoulder twitched. "Don't know. Hope so." Steve glanced at Chase and back to the road. "You're not even supposed to be here. Nat sent them on a wild goose chase so they'd be out of the way."

"And I ruined her plan by coming along." He shifted in his seat, pressing a hand to his left side. The greater part of the pain had subsided on its own, and he breathed deeply a few times to get the rest under control. "It worked out okay for us though, except for finding out that my dead brother _isn't_ dead, and for God knows how many years has been a psycho assassin."

Steve found an inconspicuous place to park the SUV, and they got out. "Just imagine how Bucky feels. HYDRA has control of Justin, and I think it's safe to assume that's who had Bucky under their thumb from the day I found him in that lab until Bruce figured out how to break their control."

"At least Gramps got away. How do we get Justin back without anyone getting killed? And if we do, will he ever be our Justin again? How many people did he kill? Does he remember them? Does he remember _us_?"

"We'll do whatever we have to in order to get your brother back, Chase. I promise. Can't guarantee that he'll be the same man he was, no one could. But we'll deal with each issue as it arises."

As if they could read each other's minds, the men ducked down behind a hedge so Steve could work out a way to break into the Smithsonian in broad daylight while the entire area was crawling with police, news reporters, and onlookers.

They were saved from making a mad dash and hoping for the best when they heard footsteps, and a familiar voice behind them.

"Will you look at that, Mia? We found us a couple of peeping toms. I wonder if they know that a voyeurism conviction carries a maximum sentence of ten years."

"Don't know, Gramps. Let's ask." The last word was barely out of Mia's mouth before Chase swept his cousin into a hug. She hugged back, and released him, keeping hold of his hand. "We saw Justin, Chase. Saw you, Steve, Nat, and that other guy being taken away. We thought they were gonna kill you."

Bucky hugged his grandson. "I am so, so sorry, pal. This feels like my fault."

Steve interrupted, giving Bucky's shoulder a squeeze. "If it's anyone's fault, Buck, it's Schmidt and Zola's. If they weren't dead…" He left that thought hanging. "Right now, I need to get into the museum."

"I can help with that, provided you explain how you got away from those thugs."

Squaring his shoulders, Steve gestured for Bucky to lead the way. "We had help."

As the quartet walked down the street as if they had every right to be there, Bucky asked, "What about Natasha? I saw her. She was bleeding."

"She got shot, but don't worry. She's fine."

Bucky sighed with relief as they got into the vehicle Mia had appropriated, and closed the doors, Steve and Chase in the back. As they neared the museum, Bucky pointed out a familiar figure leaning against a tree. "What's _he_ doing here?"

The man turned to face them, pushed the cap back on his head, and slid the sunglasses down his nose so they could now see his eyes.

Intrigued, Mia asked, "Who's _that_?"

"He's a friend." Steve touched her on the shoulder. "And we can use all the help we can get."

As if she were simply out for a drive and needed directions, Mia pulled to a stop, rolled down the window, and gave the man a come-hither smile. "Excuse me. Do you know the way to San Jose? I've been gone so friggin' long, I'm lost."

He pulled off the sunglasses, ambled over to lean on the roof of the car, pointing his chin toward the north. "Second star to the right, and straight on till morning, gorgeous."

"That's how you get to Neverland." Mia brazenly looked him up and down. "And you are _no_ Lost Boy." She rested her hand on the edge of the door. "Mia Barnes."

"Sam Wilson. Also known as the Falcon." He made a small bow. "At your service."

 **TBC**

From Google Translate. If you see anything wrong, let me know, and I'll fix it.

Russian:

 _Soldat? Otvechat'! Ty kopiruyesh'?_ = Soldier? Respond! Do you copy?

 _Da, ya kopiruyu. Tri minuty_ = Yes, I copy. Three minutes.

French:

 _Aller en France, et mettre le feu au monde_ _, mon ami_ = Go to France, and set the world on fire, my friend.

Third Eye Blind is an American rock band formed in San Francisco in 1993.

 _Peter Pan; or, the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up_ or _Peter and Wendy_ is J. M. Barrie's most famous work, in the form of a 1904 play and a 1911 novel. They tell the story of Peter Pan, a mischievous yet innocent little boy who can fly, and has many adventures on the island of Neverland that is inhabited by mermaids, fairies, Native Americans and pirates. Peter has many stories involving Wendy Darling and her two brothers, his fairy Tinker Bell, the Lost Boys, and the pirate Captain Hook.


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 47**

Sitting in the back seat with Chase, Steve wanted to speak to Joi so badly, he physically ached. He thought about calling her, but didn't want anyone to be able to trace her cell signal. There had to be a way. "We need to split up."

Sam, Chase, and Mia protested until Bucky let out a shrill whistle. "Enough! Hear him out."

Steve laid out his plan. "Bucky and I will go to the museum. Sam, you take the kids, and get them suited up. We'll meet back at the Cave in under an hour."

Mia and Chase were glaring at Steve, probably for the "kids" remark. The long-time friends got out, and Sam came around to the front passenger door. The men shared a quick fist bump. Sam got in the car, and Mia pulled away from the curb.

Once they were out of sight, Bucky crossed his arms. "What's this about, Steve? Splitting us up?"

"I need to call Joi. Have to make sure she's alright."

Bucky huffed in relief. "Got it covered, pal."

They turned toward the museum, and as they crossed the street, Steve put on a cap and dark sunglasses. No one was looking for Bucky, but he took precautions as well. His long hair was stuffed up under a cap, and he too had on dark glasses.

"Covered how?"

Looking left and right, Bucky led Steve around to the far side of the museum to a door with a keypad. "I know a guy. Can't tell you who, 'cause it's classified. Gave him a call this morning. He's got his best people protecting Joi."

"They'll have to be discrete. Don't want to draw attention."

"Discrete is his middle name." Bucky punched a code into the keypad. The door clicked, and he let them in. "Actually, his middle name is Joseph, but you get the idea."

They walked down a long empty hallway, their footsteps echoing, coming to a stop in front of what looked like a blank wall with another keypad. If Steve squinted, he could see the faintest outline of a door. Bucky typed in another code, and the door opened.

Impressed, and not wanting Bucky to know, Steve said, "Why does a museum need a secret passage?"

Bucky held the door so Steve could go in ahead of him, gesturing to the right. "It doesn't. It used to be an employee entrance, but the museum decided not to use it." He shrugged as he opened a glass door, and then they were in the hall outside the Howling Commandoes exhibit. With the museum closed, and all but a few lights off, it was eerily quiet and dark. "So what're we here for?"

Steve led the way, stopping in front of a specific display. "I'm sure it still fits. Yours too."

His friend stood next to him, grinning. "Oh, it does. It's not the original, of course. That's in a special storage area in the basement. That one," he pointed his chin at the object in front of him, "is an almost perfect reproduction made from my current measurements."

~~O~~

Bucky slapped Steve on the shoulder. "We gotta do this before Louis does his rounds."

"Louis?"

"He's a distant relative of Gabe's. A cousin or nephew or something. He hired on as a security guard just before the renovations for the exhibit started. He's a sweet old guy."

Together, grabbed what they needed, and ducked out of sight just as a skinny, white-haired old man came in through the main entrance. The friends made their way to Bucky's office without being seen.

In Bucky's office, Steve eyed the phone, even reached for it, backing off at the last second. He knew how dangerous it was to call Joi now. Besides, Bucky's contact had sent him a message saying that he'd put two of his best agents on her, and there they'd stay until told otherwise. Bucky wanted to tell Steve everything, but he'd been sworn to secrecy regarding the identity of the man in charge.

As they were leaving, they saw the old man come out of the security supervisor's office looking like someone had killed his dog.

"Louis? You okay?" Bucky asked, concerned about his friend.

"Someone stole uniforms from the exhibit, General. On _my_ watch!" He jammed a thumb over his shoulder at the closed door. "Boss just fired me."

The men shared a look over Louis's head. Steve grinned, and Bucky waved for both men to follow him. To Steve, Bucky signed _Take Louis to my office, and wait_. Bucky waited until they'd gone to knock on the door, and enter without an invitation. " _Wesley, we need to talk_."

" _What about, General Barnes?_ "

" _Louis_."

~~O~~

Less than five minutes after Steve and Louis had gone into Bucky's office, he was back, grinning smugly. "You're back on the books, pal. And you got a raise." He held up a hand to stop Louis's outburst of appreciation. "Don't thank me. No, really. Don't. Steve and I stole them."

Louis gaped at the two men. " _You_? Why?"

"Can't say. We'll return them as soon as possible." Bucky waved. "Go back to work, and not a word to anyone."

Louis had just turned the corner that would take him to the main floor when Steve and Bucky went out the same way they came in, through the secret passage. Bucky led Steve the back way through the area until they passed the area that had been blocked off. Because most of the traffic had been diverted, there were few vehicles on the road, and most of them weren't paying attention to the speed limit. Why should they when every cop in the city was working clean-up at the shootout locations?

Bucky stopped at the curb glancing up and down the street until he found what he was looking for.

"Where're we going, Buck?" Steve asked after a few blocks.

"We need a ride to that secret hideout of yours. I'm gonna get us one." He nodded. "Stand over there, and be ready when I get back."

So done with his friends and teammates not telling him everything, Steve huffed, and jogged down to the corner.

~~O~~

Standing on the curb, Bucky waited for just the right vehicle to come his way. One possibility came along, but he discarded it. Too small. Not fast enough. The next was too big, too noticeable.

And then there it was, coming at him just a tad over the posted speed limit. As the bike roared toward him, Bucky thought, _I hope this works_.

Bucky ran out into the street, grabbed the left handlebar, yelled, "Sorry!" and shoved the rider off the other side. Both wheels came off the ground as he swung the bike in a one-eighty. He leapt into the air at the same time, and when it hit the ground, he was astride the Harley facing the opposite direction the rider had been going. Gunning the engine, he left a short skid mark on the asphalt.

Bucky slowed down just enough for Steve to jump on the back, gave it some throttle, and sped away from the scene. Over the roar of the motorcycle's engine, Steve shouted, "That's one way to get a ride. Where'd you learn to do that?"

Shrugging, Bucky changed lanes, slowed down for the turn, and sped up again. "Some superhero movie. Cool, huh?"

Steve chuckled in his ear. "Yeah. It _was_ pretty cool. How long has it been since you've ridden a bike?"

"Thirty years. Give or take."

A twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the Cave. Steve climbed off the back; Bucky shut down the bike, a brand new Harley, and used his heel to drop the kickstand. Steve headed for the entrance while Bucky followed, staring at everything like a tourist visiting the nation's capitol for the first time. "What's this? The Bat Cave?"

"Except that there's no billionaire dressed as a bat living inside, no Batmobile, no fancy gadgets, and no butler named Alfred, yeah."

Inside, Bucky's eyes quickly adjusted to less light. In the distance somewhere, he could hear water dripping, machinery whirring, and people talking. He also smelled coffee, making his mouth water.

Looking up at the ceiling, Bucky wondered exactly where they were. On the ride, he'd turned when Steve said turn without paying attention to the neighborhood. He was too busy watching for cops, and listening as Steve read him into the situation. In his opinion, their chances of pulling it off were grim at best. If they managed to get out of this alive, Bucky planned on taking the family on a trip anywhere as long as it wasn't here. Disney World, maybe. That way Gracie could have fun too.

Steve held the door open and entered behind Bucky. All conversation came to a stop, and Bucky couldn't help thinking they'd been talking about _him_. Any misgivings he had about what they were going to do vanished at the sound of a startled whisper.

~~O~~

The door to what Natasha was calling the war room opened, and suddenly, her world got so much brighter. "James!"

She leaped from her seat, and ran into his arms.

 **Tuscany, Italy**

Joi looked into the camera with a brilliant smile. "I'm Joi…"

Frank moved to her side. "I'm Frank…"

Elyse joined them on Frank's left side. "And I'm Elyse. Thank you for watching Rare Taste, live from Tuscany, Italy."

Then it was back to Frank. "Tune in next time when we'll be headed for the awesome flavors and sights of the Amalfi Coast."

And Joi finished off with, " _Arrivederci amici_."

Paxton held his hand up for a moment then dropped it. "And we're out. Excellent show, kids. Let's meet for dinner to go over the schedule for the next few days, and work out the menu for the next segment."

He always called them kids even though he was barely forty, and Joi was the youngest of the hosts at thirty-two. Jax also never waited around after a segment was in the can. He issued orders, and split.

Going into the changing area, Joi put on her street clothes, tied her sneakers, and made sure she had her phone, hotel key and wallet. She stepped out into the bright Tuscan sun, slipped on her sunglasses, and decided to walk back to the hotel for a nap before dinner.

A young woman approached her with a smile. "Excuse me. Are you Joi Lockwood?"

Tired, and not wanting to be rude, Joi held up her hand. "Please call my agent to schedule an interview."

"I'm not a reporter, Ms. Lockwood."

"If you'd like an autograph…"

She kept pace with Joi as she walked. "I'm a big fan, but that's not why I'm here."

Joi stopped walking and faced the other woman, getting a good look at her for the first time. She had long brown hair, dark brown eyes, and couldn't have been more than twenty-four at most. The annoying woman held up a leather case with her photo and name, and a badge that Joi recognized. "You're SHIELD."

She showed no surprise that Joi knew of the agency that Natasha and Steve worked for. "Agent Skye. I'm here to place you under protective custody."

Making a snort of disdain, Joi started walking again. Turning left out of the studio's property, she cut across the street, and headed through the park, Agent Skye hot on her heels. "Why would _I_ need to be in protective custody?"

"Because my boss sent me to protect you, and someone who has his ear asked him to send me." Skye drew her to a stop. Joi looked down at the hand on her arm, gave the agent a significant glare, and included an eyebrow raise for effect. The hand was removed. "You've been out of the loop regarding events in D.C."

"If something was going on at home that they thought I should know about, a member of my family would've called."

One side of Skye's mouth twitched up in a smirk. "Your family, and the general public, doesn't know everything. There are some bad people out there who wouldn't think twice about using you to get to Captain Rogers, and that could be dangerous for everyone."

"Even if what you're saying is true-which I doubt, I still don't need protection." Turning onto the grass, Joi hoped to discourage Agent Skye, but it didn't work. _Damn, that girl is tenacious_. "I'm more than able to take care of myself."

Skye moved around in front of Joi, forcing her to stop. "Not from these people. They're more ruthless than the mafia, the Triads, and the drug cartels combined. They would kill you without even hesitating, and you'll never see them comi…"

~~O~~

Joi moved so fast that Skye didn't have a chance to defend herself. She lay on her back looking up into Joi's smirking face. "So, Agent Skye with no last name, tell me _again_ how badly I need your protection."

Rolling back onto her shoulders, and forward, Skye got to her feet, body tensed for another attack. When it didn't come, she retaliated in order to test the other woman's skills. The women fought, each getting in their share of blows, until Joi faked her out by moving past Skye on the right. She flipped Skye over her shoulder onto her back, grabbed Skye's right arm, and turned her onto her stomach in a wrist lock.

Skye tapped out. Joi let her go, and backed away until she was out of reach, awaiting another attack.

"You're a chef. Where the hell did you learn to do that? Martial arts?"

Exuding an air of smugness that made Skye want to slap her, Joi smiled and it came up just short of being evil. "Sort of. My grandmother trained me and the rest of grandkids, and the great-grands. Wanted us to be able to protect ourselves. I'll have to thank her when I see her."

"Your _grandmother_ was an agent?" Mystified, Skye got to her feet. "Who for?"

" _Is_ an agent. SHIELD. Though technically, she's not my grandmother yet, but she will be when she and Gramps get married. Natasha Romanoff. You might have heard of her. She's known as…"

Another, less emotional voice interrupted. "The Black Widow." May lifted her chin. "Ms. Lockwood is the granddaughter of General James Buchanan Barnes."

Skye's mouth dropped open then snapped shut. "Wasn't he the leader of a military specialty squad from like World War II or something?"

"They were called the Howling Commandoes." Joi stated, emphasizing each word in a tone that dripped acid. "And Gramps wasn't their leader. Steve Rogers, _my fiancé_ , was. He and Gramps are best friends, and have been for over seventy years." Joi started walking again, scooping up her dropped phone on the fly. "If you're here to protect me, Agent May, I'll tell you what I told Agent Skye. I think I've demonstrated that you're not needed."

~~O~~

Suddenly May was in front of Joi, blocking her way. Her unemotional stare sent a shiver down Joi's spine though the temperature was warm. "And _you're_ assuming you have a choice." May leaned close, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You _don't_."

Joi looked from one woman to the other, seeing that she was beaten. "What're we going to tell everyone who you are?"

May's left eyebrow rose. "We're your entourage. Skye's your new assistant…"

"I don't _need_ …"

May continued as if Joi hadn't spoken. "And I'm your bodyguard. _We_ go where _you_ go, even if you have to 'go'. No arguments, no trying to lose us, because it won't work."

Skye nodded. "It's true. She's a terrier."

Giving in, Joi started walking again. "Fine. Should I change to a two-bedroom hotel room? I mean, you gotta sleep sometime."

"Yes. And when we get to the hotel, Skye will stay with you in the hall while I check out the room."

Huffing, Joi exited the park, and turned right. The hotel was just ahead. "I was going to take a nap before our meeting, but that's not gonna happen now."

Her eyes darting everywhere at once May said, "I'll teach you to meditate. It works wonders."

 **The Triskelion**

In the hall outside Ops, Sharon paced in a circle, phone to her ear, and biting on a thumbnail. She growled deep in her throat when she heard the voicemail message yet again.

" _This is Frankie. You know what do to, so do it after the beep._ "

This time, Sharon left a message. "Frankie, will you _please_ call me? Something's going on. Not sure what, but it won't be pretty. I just… I need to know you're okay." She paused for a moment, lowering her voice, and ending the message with, "I… just call me, okay?"

Sharon turned spun around at the touch on her shoulder, relieved to see her cousin standing there. From the worried expression, he felt the same vibe in the air that she did. He gripped her shoulders, and peered into her eyes. "You okay? I've never seen you so skittish."

"Yeah." The phone went into her back pocket. "I haven't spoken to Frankie in almost three days. No texts, no emails, no response to phone messages."

"Insight's launching in a few hours. The crews have been working around the clock to get ready. Probably hasn't had time to check messages."

Sharon took a breath, and let it out. "You're probably right, Cam." A smile was added. "You on a break? Wanna get a coffee?"

"It'll have to be quick. We're in the home stretch. With Director Fury gone, and Commander Hill MIA, Kripke's had to take over, and he's on everyone's ass."

 **Secret HYDRA Base**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Zeya and Volkov worked together to fix the damage to Justin's metal arm, with her giving terse instructions, and him grudgingly following them. From the man's attitude, Justin could tell that he thought Zeya was unfit to be in charge of the Winter Soldier project. Why did they call it that anyway? Because of the cryofreeze chambers? Just the thought of going back into one made him cringe mentally, and suppress a shiver. _When I get out of here, I'm moving somewhere warm_.

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch as Zeya came used a small welding device on his arm. If he hadn't been changed by these people-he now knew them as HYDRA-he would be completely freaked out right now. At least some good came from it. He could focus better, push his emotions to the side so he could get the job done. Which was good _and_ bad. While these people thought sentimentality and affection got in the way, Justin knew they were just as important as any other.

The problem with closing his eyes was that it gave him time to think and reflect. Against his will, his mind churned up the events that had brought him to this place. The hypnosis at the hands of that shrink, Edgar Heath, the accident in the woods, falling off the cliff… and the events that followed.

As if he was watching the scene through a fishbowl, Justin saw himself lying on an operating table, the bright overhead light illuminating everything in stark relief. Men and women in scrubs, wearing masks hovered above him. All he could see were the eyes.

 **More Than Two Years Ago…**

Dr. Gregor Popov leaned over his patient. "The procedure was started many years ago, Asset, with your grandfather. He has broken free of HYDRA's control, but it doesn't matter. He would've been retired soon due to his age, and the fact that he'd begun to fight the hypnosis. However, since the forties, our scientists have continued to make progress with Dr. Zola's formula, and it is now ready for implementation.

"Soon, you will become the new fist of HYDRA, the one they call the Winter Soldier. We need only complete your transformation with a series of injections, and the attachment of the biomechanical arm. But first…" He lifted the broken and twisted left arm in both hands. Another doctor held the shoulder and upper arm still while Popov bent the infected lower part away from the ragged end of the humerus. He adjusted his grip so that he was holding the bicep with both hands, and with one quick twist and yank, detached the useless appendage.

A nurse stood ready with a towel into which the arm was placed. He carried it over to a preservation container that would keep it from decaying further until it could be placed where the law enforcement agencies searching the area would find it. It was hoped that by leaving it in the forest where the Asset's vehicle had crashed, that the police and family would believe him to be dead, killed and devoured by the carnivorous animal life that inhabited the area.

 **Present**

Keeping all that he'd discussed with Zeya in the forefront of his mind, Justin didn't so much as glance around when the door opened, and a tall, white-haired man entered, followed by the bearded man whom he thought of as a sort of handler. He remembered hearing the other man standing in the corner say his name, Rumlow. When this was all over, Justin would take great pleasure in beating the man to a pulp before taking him to the authorities for prosecution.

Zeya stepped forward to greet their guest. "Welcome, Mr. Pierce. He's nearly ready to begin the next phase of the plan."

Pierce stood in front of Justin with his head tilted to the side, as if he were able to read what was going on in his mind. "Your mission was a failure. Where have the targets been taken?"

Justin thought about telling him the truth, but that would get him and Zeya killed. " _Neizvestnyyc_."

"The work you and your grandfather have done has been a gift to mankind. Together, you have shaped this century. Now I need you to do it one more time." Pierce leaned down to look him in the eye. "Society is at tipping point between order and chaos, and we're going to give it a push. I need you to do your part so I can do mine, or HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves. Do you understand?"

Justin breathed deeply several times before responding. Again, he answered in Russian, though the leader spoke English. " _Da_."

To Zeya and her dishonest assistant, the leader said, "Prep him."

"Yes, sir." Zeya nodded to Volkov, who glanced at his watch, huffed with irritation, and lowered the gear over Justin's head. When Volkov turned away for a moment, Zeya gave him a shrug of apology, telling him that this would hurt, but there was nothing more she could than she already had. The program would prepare him for the next mission. Once that was done, the one who carried the faded red book would come in to activate the Asset.

The hated Volkov stood with one hand on the switch, and not waiting for approval, turned on the machine. Pain like he'd only known the past couple of years ripped through Justin's brain, and body, causing his muscles to contract. He didn't want those around him to know how much it hurt, but he couldn't help it. He screamed.

When the device shut off, Justin was panting, and the sweat rolled off his face to drip onto his bare chest. The wrist and ankle shackles were released as the other man stepped into the light. The book was open, and the man looked at him with cold, dead eyes as he walked around the chair, speaking the words that were designed to send the Asset on a mission to destroy. One person, or millions, it was all the same to him, and Justin could see it in his expression. He didn't care one way or another who or how many died because of him, as long as he fulfilled his part of the plan.

Doing his best to react as expected, Justin waited for the man to finish his recitation, hearing the words in English and Russian.

"… _Ekho_ … _dvoynik…_ " As always, the man stopped in front of Justin as he spoke the final word, " _…dusha_. _Soldat_?"

Getting to his feet, Justin stared straight ahead, arms hanging at his sides, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a corner, his head hurt so bad. " _YA gotov otvechat'_."

 **The Cave**

Watching his grandfather and Natasha together made Chase both happy and a bit melancholy that his own life was devoid of a love like theirs. Sure, he had family and friends that loved him unconditionally. But that wasn't the same as having someone to share your life with.

It had been his hope that Brittany would be The One, and now that she was gone, he could see the recent past with clarity. They hadn't loved each other. It hadn't even been infatuation. They'd merely had an intense sexual attraction that Chase mistook for love.

Maybe one day soon, if they survived, he and the other half of his soul would cross paths. One could only pray, and hope that God said yes for a change.

~~O~~

Natasha framed Bucky's face with her hands as their lips danced together again, so happy to see him that she could barely contain it. She could feel the others doing their best to ignore the passionate greeting.

He separated their mouths, and led her to a chair, taking the one next to it. "I've missed you so much, Natasha. And when I saw you get shot…"

She reached across and pulled the edge of her blue top aside so he could see the wound. It looked worse than it felt, or rather that's what she wanted him to see. "I'm fine. No major damage. It missed all the bones."

Bucky raised their linked hands so he could kiss her fingers. "What will you be doing while we take down Insight?"

Natasha reclaimed her hand so she could adjust her clothing. "What d'you mean? I'm in this with you."

Fury shifted in his seat, and James looked over at him as though he hadn't realized he was there. "This plan won't work unless we all do our part."

"And what part do you have in this grand scheme of yours for a woman who's just been shot?"

The former SHIELD director crossed one leg over the other with a grunt. The pain had to be bad for him to make that sound. "Hers won't require the same amount of physical activity that it will for the rest of you."

Touching his cheek, Natasha looked him in the eye. "There's no need to worry, James. I've been hurt worse, and still completed my mission. This is no different."

Bucky could be stubborn, but then so was she. Hers was an integral part of an intricate plan. Take that away, and it would all fall apart. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Okay." He glanced around the room, his eyes falling on Chase and Mia, widening slightly in surprise and confusion as he looked them up and down. "What the _hell_ are you two wearing?"

Sam pushed off the wall he'd been holding up. "Cap said to get them suited up, so…" Bucky continued to stare with his mouth open, and Sam rolled his eyes. "It was all we could find on short notice, okay?"

Natasha took Bucky's hand so he wouldn't make some smartass remark just as a ringing interrupted the not-so-friendly bantering.

Steve fished his phone out of his pocket, staring at the caller ID in confusion. He made the universal sign for quiet, and pressed answer. The confusion deepened as he hit the speakerphone and laid it on the table so all could hear. "Who is this?"

" _You've forgotten me already. I'm crushed_." Sarcasm dripped from each word. " _Here's a hint: You and your cohorts threw me off a roof._ "

The faces of the SHIELD agents and Sam showed mild surprise, with confusion on the rest. "Jasper Sitwell."

 **TBC**

Italian:

 _Arrivederci amici_ = Good-bye my friends

Russian:

 _Neizvestnyyc_ = Unknown


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Been sick for a couple of weeks. Here's the newest chapter... finally.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 48**

Leaning forward so he'd be heard, Fury bit out, "What the hell do you want, Sitwell?"

" _Fury. I should've known you weren't dead._ " There was some fumbling around in the background as if Sitwell were moving things around. " _First time the Asset's failed to complete a mission in fifty years_. _Or so they tell me_."

Reasserting control, Steve brought the phone closer. "Answer the question, Sitwell. What do you _want_?"

More fumbling around, and the whispery sound of curtains being pulled back broke the silence. " _You're taking down Insight. I want in_."

Hill joined the conversation. "Why should we trust _you_?"

" _I have something you don't, Commander._ "

Next to interrupt was Natasha. "And that is?"

The creak of a chair told them Sitwell had taken a seat, and the strain in his voice meant that he'd likely been injured at some point. " _I know how HYDRA operates, what their plan is. Look, Rogers, all I'm asking is for five minutes of your time. Bring whomever you want. You can even pick the place and time. It better be soon though. Insight launches in less than ten hours_."

Steve took a silent consensus of the SHIELD crew. "Trout's Sports Bar. Thirty minutes, or don't bother to show up. If this is a trap, Sitwell, I'll kill you myself."

He hit End with an angry poke thinking it wasn't nearly as satisfying as slamming the phone down.

 **Trout's Sports Bar**

The server set a glass of beer in front of Steve, and moved on to the next table. He'd only taken a single sip when a casually dressed man slid into the booth across from him.

Taking off the sunglasses, he laid them on the table and signaled for the server, waving a finger over the beer to indicate he wanted one of the same. It arrived in short order. He took a sip, and replaced it on the coaster. "Tell Hill to put the sniper rifle away, and come join us. I came alone." He spread the sides of his jacket so that Steve could see he had no weapons. "I'm not stupid enough to come to this meet armed."

Though he gave the appearance of being bored with the conversation, Steve was assessing his companion's state of mind. As long as he'd known him, he'd never seen Sitwell other than impeccably dressed, even during the hostage situation on the _Lemurian Star_. Now, the man was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a beat up leather jacket, and a ball cap that had the name of a trucking company on the front. What he hadn't lost was the air of arrogant superiority that had once surrounded him, tempered with a touch of humility, his spirit dampened by recent events.

Sitwell put a hand against his left side, breathing through pain that Steve could see in his eyes. "What happened?"

"I know which way the wind blows in this city, and took precautions. I was wearing Kevlar. Got hit just under the lower edge."

Steve leaned back and crossed his arms. "Too bad they missed. Now out with it."

The other man picked up his beer and took a long drink, and set it back on the table. "Start with telling your associates to join us."

From the corner of his eye, Steve saw Hill come into the bar, and take a seat near Bucky and Chase. He had to give it to Chase. The computer tech blended into the clientele as neatly as a trained spy. He drank coffee, munched on pretzels, while watching and listening to Steve's meeting though he appeared to be engrossed in the game playing on the plasma screen over the bar.

Bucky, on the other hand, was more interested in the basket of food the server placed in front of him, though it couldn't be farther from the truth. Bucky could eat, and ate a lot, just like Steve did. Later, if someone asked him to describe any of the patrons, and what they were doing, he would give an accurate account of what happened during his entire stay.

Sitwell crunched a pretzel, sipped his beer, slowly pulled his glasses from his inside pocket, and put them on. "Now that we're all here, let's work out a way to get to Pierce."

"You're no field agent, Sitwell. How do you expect to make it past all those HYDRA agents out for your blood?"

"That's where Romanoff comes in. She can help me do what needs to be done. I was loyal to HYDRA for years, and Pierce sent the Winter Soldier to kill me. Pierce deserves to die, and don't tell me you think otherwise."

Sam's voice came from the next booth. "What about all that 'cut off one head, and two shall take its place' s***?"

Sitwell answered as though Steve had asked the question. "Those are just appendages. How long do you think HYDRA will last when it's brain is dead?"

 **Arlington, Virginia**

The man in the back seat spoke quietly into his phone, making plans with his wife for their upcoming vacation. After a while, Councilman Ji Yen glanced out the window, noticing that they were in an unfamiliar part of D.C. He tapped on the glass separating the passengers from the driver. "Excuse me. This isn't the way to the Triskelion."

The driver kept going and didn't respond. Then, a moment later, the doors locked. Before he could protest, the limo picked up speed, made a few scary turns, and finally came to a stop. The passenger door opened, and another man got in. The driver opened the window, and the man took off his sunglasses, and cap.

"Director Fury!" Yen exclaimed. "We were told you'd been killed."

The older man grinned. "Are you really stupid enough to believe everything Pierce tells you?" Yen didn't have an answer for that comment, so Fury continued. "Thank you for coming to this impromptu meeting, by the way."

The driver turned around, and Yen recognized Maria Hill. "We have a favor to ask of you, Councilman Yen."

 **At a Secret Location**

"Thank you for your cooperation, Councilman Yen," Fury remarked.

The Chinese man shook his head. "It's hard to believe that HYDRA still exists, Nick. How could we have missed it?"

"I've suspected for some time, but didn't know who to trust."

"How did you know you could trust _me_?"

Steve tucked his thumbs into his belt. "We didn't. If you'd refused, or you were HYDRA, we'd have locked you in a cell, and taken your place _without_ your permission."

Yen shifted in his seat, and crossed his legs. "Rest assured, gentlemen," he glanced at Mia standing in a corner, and Hill at Fury's left, "and ladies, I find their methods _and_ their philosophies abhorrent, as do the others."

"That's why we're reading you into the plan."

A man entered, and Fury nodded. The man touched his right temple, startling Yen when his face morphed into his own. He took out a pair of glasses with wire frames, and put them on.

"He looks like me, but I don't wear glasses."

The man who now wore his face touched the sides of his jaw just in front of the ears self-consciously. "You do now."

Yen shook his head. "This will only work if you speak Chinese."

The Not-Yen bowed slightly. " _Shān y_ _ǔ_ _y_ _ù_ _l_ _á_ _i f_ _ē_ _ng m_ _ǎ_ _n l_ _ó_ _u_." (Coming events cast their shadows before them.)

To which Fury replied, " _Wàn shì kāi tóu nán_." (All things are difficult before they are easy.)

Mollified, and not a little surprised, Yen gave in. "So he can speak Chinese. Singh and I have been friends since well before being called to serve on the World Security Council. How will he fake his way through the small talk?"

Again, the other man spoke. " _Gù zu_ _ǒ_ _y_ _ò_ _u_ _é_ _r y_ _á_ _n tā_." (Turning aside and changing the subject.)

~~O~~

The group consisting of Hill, Steve, Bucky, Chase, and Mia stopped in the clearing that edged up to the Potomac on this side. From here, they could see the Triskelion, standing tall and majestic, the sun glinting off the glass and chrome. But it was like a beautiful woman with a tumor growing in her gut. Its attractive exterior concealed an internal sickness that had to be excised. They shared a long look, and headed down the hill to where their ride was parked.

Bucky let the others go ahead, walking slowly until Steve came up beside him. "How are people going to take Mia and Chase seriously in those get-ups?"

Steve shrugged, a wry smile coming to his face. "They'll only make the mistake of laughing once, Buck. You saw to that."

Mia's outfit looked like leather, but it wasn't. The material it was made from gave her more freedom of movement than leather ever would. The slate grey had a blueish tint that offset Mia's blonde hair, making it look almost white. The jacket had cuffs that flared out, and under that, she wore a figure-hugging top in a snakeskin design that laced up the back, and had straps for support. A thin belt wrapped around her narrow waist twice. The boots came up to her knees, and had two-inch heels. Steve wondered how she would be able to run in them. When he voiced this concern, she just smiled, and said, "You'll see."

Chase, on the other hand, looked ridiculous. To Steve, at least. He was dressed all in black. The sleeves of his shirt billowed out, it laced up in the front below his collar bone, and was gathered at the wrists. He'd belted the waist, and had a sword hanging on the left. Unlike Mia's boots, his had flat soles with minimal heels. Apparently the outfit had come with a bandana and mask, which Chase chose not to wear, though he did keep the black leather gloves. Going by the recent past, he probably had several weapons stashed out of sight, and the sword was just for show.

"We look like we're on the way to a ComicCon," Bucky remarked with a chuckle.

Steve had the momentary urge to tell his friend where he could put his ComicCon, but refrained so he wouldn't have to drop several quarters in the swear jar. He settled for, "Jerk," holding in a snort when Bucky responded in the time-honored tradition of their friendship.

"Punk."

 **The Triskelion**

 **Washington D.C.**

"Would you prefer to take a seat, Councilwoman Hawley?"

To Natasha's ears, Pierce's concern sounded genuine, though she knew differently. She herself had used that same tone on many occasions, usually just before taking down a mark. Most recently, while securing the engine room of the _Lemurian Star_.

Hawley set her glass of champagne on the edge of the center console, using that hand to rub her right shoulder, and adjust the sling. "No, thank you. The pain medication doesn't mix well with," she nodded at the golden liquid, "alcohol. It's taken years for this day to arrive, and I want to enjoy every minute of it."

Playing her part, Natasha went to Hawley's side. They spoke softly, and Natasha retreated once again to her place off to one side.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but my husband insisted that a nurse accompany me on this trip."

Singh stood nearby, one hand holding the champagne, and the other in his pocket. "How did it happen, Elizabeth?"

The councilwoman adjusted the sling with a sheepish smile. "Believe it or not, I was playing soccer with my grandchildren, and fell. I was quite embarrassed as I'd been on the women's soccer team at university."

Sitwell, disguised as Yen, bowed slightly. "I recall you mentioning it. Too bad Gideon couldn't attend. He enjoys reliving his glory days in college football."

"The games are hardly the same, Ji."

From the look Sitwell cast at Natasha, she gathered that Gideon Malik's absence was less about being ill, and more because he didn't want it immediately known that he was HYDRA, a division of the hierarchy. Not putting all their golden eggs in one basket.

~~O~~

Wishing he hadn't had that cup of coffee with Sharon, Cameron took a breath to calm the jitters that was only partially caused by the tense atmosphere. He typed a command into the system, and adjusted the headset more comfortably over his head and ears. "We are go on guidance."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sharon monitoring the launch a few consoles to his right. She spoke to the man to her right, nodding at something he said. He flashed her a small smile that turned into a frown of confusion when the PA system squealed, and they heard the voice of Captain Rogers. Cameron was surprised because he thought the super-soldier had gone into hiding after the abortive attempt to arrest him.

" _Attention, all SHIELD agents. This is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days, some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time you know the truth…_ "

~~O~~

Barely able to believe what she was hearing, Sharon looked over at her cousin, and he looked at her with a befuddled expression. Through the glass doors, she saw a familiar face: Frankie.

"… _If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not_."

While everyone stood around in stunned silence, Sharon dashed into the hall, and grabbed Frankie in a hug. "I was so worried when you didn't return my calls or texts."

"Sorry. I've been busy, and you were undercover."

They released each other, and that's when Sharon noticed her girlfriend was carrying an assault rifle in addition to her usual sidearm. She was also wearing a tac vest, somehow making it look sexy. Taking a step back, Sharon's stomach lurched. "Frankie! You're-are you HYDRA? How…"

"I _tried_ to tell you, lots of times, but…" Frankie looked away, and Sharon could see the shame in her eyes. Determination, and conviction were reflected there as well. Whoever had recruited her had done a good job of brainwashing, because the Frankie she knew was tough, independent, and brash. She had to be, as a woman operating within a traditionally all-male field.

"But you knew what I'd say."

Reluctantly, Frankie nodded.

Sharon remembered the first time she saw Frankie. She was dressed in black workout pants, and a black sports bra, her long hair in a ratty ponytail with wisps sticking to the sweat on her face as she took down one of the men in a perfectly executed body slam. Sharon had always been drawn to women with dark exotic looks, and accents. And Frankie had this Michelle Rodriguez thing going on that sent her hormones into overdrive.

Frankie had noticed her watching, and later, in the locker room, the two started talking. They joined a group going out for a beer and the game at the sports bar down the street, and at the end of the night, they'd exchanged numbers.

Over the course of their romance, there had been many ups and downs, but finding out the woman she cared about was a HYDRA agent, well, that was just too much. Sharon drew her right arm back, and leaned into the roundhouse punch, causing the other woman to stumble.

Frankie thumbed a small trickle of blood from her lip, and looked ready to continue the fight, but didn't get the chance. Turning her back, Sharon Carter, AKA Agent 13, AKA Kate from across the hall, returned to Ops, still trying to make sense of the revelation.

~~O~~

Cameron saw his cousin return to Ops, shaking with the effort to keep her emotions under control. As she passed behind him, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Frankie's HYDRA."

Within seconds, the STRIKE team leader, Brock Rumlow, strode into Ops, and straight to Cameron's side, issuing orders that left no doubt that he too, and possibly his entire team, were HYDRA as well.

"Pre-empt the launch sequence," Rumlow barked at him. "Send those ships up now."

Rumlow wasn't in Cameron's chain of command. What made him think he could come in here and give orders? Cameron looked at him, and back to computer. The only brave thing he'd ever done was join SHIELD as a computer tech, his failed attempts to be a field agent notwithstanding.

"Is there a problem?" The man's irritation, and lack of patience was showing.

"Um…" Cameron placed his hands in his lap, and shook his head, feeling the eyes of the other agents on him, all waiting to see what he'd do.

"Is there a _problem_?" he asked again, louder.

Doing his best not to show his nervousness, the first thing out of Cameron's mouth was, "Sorry, sir." He breathed deeply several times, and finally found the courage to stand up for himself, and his convictions, and let everyone know where his loyalty lay. "I'm not going to launch those ships. Captain's orders."

Saying the words gave Cameron a sense of relief by taking control away from one of Pierce's top men. Or so he thought.

The unmistakable click of a round being chambered came just before the muzzle of a handgun was pressed against the back of his head. "Move away from your station."

Before Rumlow could follow through on whatever he'd planned to do, Sharon, and the rest of the Ops crew pulled their weapons, aiming them at the HYDRA agents. His cousin held her weapon inches from Rumlow's temple, and in a tone that dripped ice, she stated, "Like he said, Captain's orders."

"You picked the wrong side, Agent." The STRIKE leader shoved the weapon against the back of Cameron's head, making him cringe, waiting for the shot.

"Depends on where you're standing."

He envied his cousin the ability to push through any situation without becoming nervous, or losing her cool. Thankfully, Rumlow backed down, and his weapon hit the floor with a thud, startling Cameron.

In less than a heartbeat, Rumlow whipped out a knife and cut Sharon's arm, catching her weapon as it fell. Looking down, Cameron could see the weapon Rumlow had dropped, and a plan began to form. He readied himself to put it into action. Then suddenly, there was a flurry of gunfire, and Sharon kicked him out of the way. His chair tipped over, and he rolled under the console, covering his head. Unfortunately, the action also gave Rumlow access to the launch computer just long enough to enter the override. Alarms blared, adding to the noise.

Cowering under the desk, he thought about Captain Rogers, and the Avengers, Director Fury, Commander Hill, and of course Aunt Peggy. He admired them for their loyalty, and fearlessness, always sticking to their principles no matter what, he could do no less.

From this vantage point, Cameron could see one of the HYDRA agents crouched behind another console. He raised up slowly, taking aim at the middle of Sharon's back. She found another weapon somewhere, and was returning fire, and didn't see him.

 _This is it, Klein_ , he told himself. _Put up, or shut up. Run with the big dogs, or go to work in the private sector._

Letting instincts control his actions, he rolled onto his right side, grabbed the weapon, turned onto his back, and aimed, all in one smooth motion, just like Sharon taught him. Without hesitating, he fired off seven rounds in quick succession, taking out not only the guard about to shoot his cousin, but two others as well. He may not have killed them, but they wouldn't be happy campers for a while. _Years_. Treason was a federal offense, netting the guilty party or parties at least five years in prison, and a minimum fine of ten grand. They would also be deemed incapable of holding any sort of public office. It went without saying that they'd be fired from their current position.

The exchange of fire kept up for another few seconds, and Cameron used that time to get to his feet, shove the weapon into the back of his pants, and tap furiously at the keys. His quick thinking was rewarded with the cessation of the override alarms. On the monitor, they could see the Insight helicarriers descending back under the water, and the bay doors closing.

He leaned his hands on the console, sagging in relief. A moan to his right reminded him that someone had been hurt. Cameron stuck out his hand, and his friend, Ralph, pulled off his shirt, and passed it over, leaving him in just a white t-shirt. He tore the shirt through the middle, and used it to bandage Sharon's arm. She hissed in pain, but didn't cry out. Never did. Helping her up, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I thought I lost you." They hugged each other tight until they noticed people staring. Keeping one arm around Sharon, Cameron explained, "She's my _cousin_. Our grandmothers are sisters."

 **Insight Command Center**

Steve headed for the door with Chase on his heels, both turning back to look at Hill. The soon-to-be ex-SHIELD commander scowled at them. "Go!" She pulled out her weapon, chambered a round, and settled in. "I'll be fine."

The door closed behind them, and immediately locked. Trotting down the stairs, Chase easily keeping up with Steve's fast pace, he went over the plan in his head one more time. Gramps and Mia were already in place to take on Alpha, he and Steve were on Charlie, and they'd meet at Bravo for the big finale.

"What d'you think's going to happen once this is all over? I mean we're destroying billions of dollars of government-owned property to save millions of lives, but we're also taking down one of the major players in America's intelligence industry. The country's rep is going into the shredder."

Steve was silent long enough, Chase didn't think he would answer. Two floors later, he did. "It couldn't be helped, Chase. Like Zola said, HYDRA is a parasite that grew inside SHIELD for seventy years without anyone knowing. Not until Fury figured it out."

"I think it's safe to say that the economy will take a hit as well. Not to mention the contractors for the helicarriers, vendors who supplied the Triskelion with everything from bathroom tissue to catered executive lunches, local businesses who made the majority of their revenue from the staff or visitors to the Triskelion, the city itself. No matter how he handles this, the president will probably have an all-time low approval rating, not to mention clean-up costs, digging s*** out of the river, and lengthy insurance investigations. Oh, and you, Nat, Fury, and Hill are now unemployed."

The snort Steve aimed at him echoed in the stairwell. "That's quite a list for being off the top of your head."

Though Steve couldn't see it, Chase pursed his lips, and huffed. "Yeah, well, that's the way my mind works." They reached ground level, and kept going. "I do have one more question though. Not sure you can answer it, or want to. Two questions, actually."

"What?"

Taken slightly aback by the sharp tone, Chase changed what he was going to say. "Is Maria Hill seeing anyone? And do you have her number?"

 **TBC**

The _Lemurian Star_ is a SHIELD ship designed to launch targeting satellites for Project Insight.

 _Shān y_ _ǔ_ _y_ _ù_ _l_ _á_ _i f_ _ē_ _ng m_ _ǎ_ _n l_ _ó_ _u_ = Coming events cast their shadows before them.

 _Wàn shì kāi tóu nán_ = All things are difficult before they are easy.

 _Gù zu_ _ǒ_ _y_ _ò_ _u_ _é_ _r y_ _á_ _n tā_ = Turning aside and changing the subject.

 _Yù sù zé bù dá_ = More haste, less speed.


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

My apologies for taking so long to update. I've had an upper respiratory infection, and we've been fighting each other for over a month. Oy!

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 49**

 **The Triskelion**

 **Council Chambers**

"… _If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not_."

Natasha played her part, staying in the corner, pretending to be shocked speechless at Steve's revelation that Pierce was the head of HYDRA. Not so Councilman Rockwell.

The older man's eyes flashed, becoming hard. "You _smug_ son of a bitch."

Several armed men entered the room, standing in a loose group near the exit. Councilman Singh gestured at the men. "Arrest him." His anger turned to fear when the guards pointed their weapons at the council members instead of Pierce.

Unfazed by it all, Pierce deadpanned, "I guess _I've_ got the floor." In a conversational tone, as if they'd met at a cocktail party, he continued, "Let me ask you a question. What if Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow, and you knew that they were going to drag your daughters into a soccer stadium for execution?" He handed Singh a glass of champagne, which the man took automatically. "And you could stop it with the flick of a switch. Would you? Wouldn't you all?"

His features twisted in anger and loathing, Singh turned the glass over, dumping the expensive drink onto the carpet, and tossed the glass against the wall. "Not if it was _your_ switch."

Pierce shook his head as one of the guards handed him a gun, which he pointed at Singh.

 **SHIELD Operations**

Sharon crouched beside Kripke, gripping his hand while another agent knelt on the commander's other side, bandaging the bullet wound in his shoulder. "Hold on, Ryan. Medics'll be here soon."

Kripke's features looked just as they always did, naturally tanned, of mixed Asian heritage, goatee with a few grey hairs in it, with the added element of pain around the eyes. "We got this covered, Carter. Captain Rogers is gonna need all the help he can get to stop HYDRA from finding a way to override the system. Go!"

She nodded once, and took off. As she reached the corner, she felt Cameron come up behind her, the weapon he'd used to save her life held in both hands. "Where are _you_ going?"

"With you." One side of his mouth turned up in an ironic grin. "You've been watching my back for years. Now it's my turn to watch yours."

Giving in without a fight, Sharon motioned with her head. "This way. Let's gear up."

They reached the armory without incident, however, someone had been there before, and had circumvented the controls, meaning they'd blown the lock. Cameron watching the door while Sharon gathered magazines for their handguns, and grabbed them each one of the few remaining AR-15s, and ammo. "Cam."

Her cousin was at her side in less than a heartbeat. "Headsets." He laid his weapon within easy reach yet out of the way. Digging out two of the earbuds, he stuck one in his left ear, using his index finger to adjust the frequency until he found the one being used by Steve and his team. He made the same adjustment to the second one, and handed it to Sharon.

"Agent 13 to Captain Rogers."

" _Rogers_. _Please tell me you're a friendly_."

Sharon pursed her lips to keep from smiling. "I'm here with Specialist Klein, sir, and yes, we're on _your_ side."

In the background, they could hear the staccato beat of automatic weapons fire. " _Good. We've got teams headed to Alpha, and Charlie, plus air support. Locate additional troops, head for Beta, and we'll meet you there_." Fighting, and an explosion made Sharon and Cameron wince. " _Klein?_ "

"Sir?"

More gunfire, grunts, and the unmistakable sound of the shield hitting human bodies came through the headset. Then, Steve was back. " _HYDRA will go to any lengths to launch those helicarriers. Get to the Insight Command Center, and give Hill a hand overriding their overrides_."

"On my way."

Cameron glanced at her, and Sharon read his mind. They wanted to stay together, but splitting up was the best course of action. "Good luck. Stay safe."

"You too."

At the next junction, they parted, Cameron taking the stairs, and Sharon in the direction of the underwater hangar that housed the three Insight helicarriers. "On my way to you, Captain."

" _Negative, Kate. I need you to secure Beta. Do whatever you have to in order to disable its systems_."

A male voice broke in before Sharon could respond. " _Hey, Cap. How do we know the good guys from the bad guys?_ "

Sharon pressed her lips together when Cameron's voice said, " _If they're shooting at you, they're bad_."

The unknown male came back with sarcasm. " _Oh, that's_ _really_ _helpful, pal._ "

"He's right, you know," Sharon pointed out.

Her cousin clicked in one more time. " _Thanks, Shar_."

" _Back to work, people. We've got a coup to stop. Silent running begins now. Two clicks, safe to talk_."

 **Outside the Triskelion**

 **Over the Potomac River**

In his Falcon wingpack, Sam flew over the area of the river near the shore where he'd seen the hangar bay coming out of the water. It had gone back down, telling him that they'd halted the launch, at least for now. There were HYDRA agents all over the place, hiding in plain sight. And Steve was right. The only way to tell the good from the bad was when they shot at him.

As if thinking it made it so, a pair of quinjets circled around the immense building, firing at him. He swooped and glided, made a few death defying loops, even went into a dead drop, coming out of it before hitting the water, with only a few feet to spare. He heard a double click, and jacked in. "Hey, Cap. I found some of those bad guys you were talking about."

" _You okay?_ "

Curling into a ball to make a smaller target, Sam dipped low over the garden on that side of the building, going into a spiral as he flew into the air again, gunfire exploding all around him. "Not dead yet."

 **Lower Level**

Chase kept on the look-out for any of those bad guys Steve was talking about, while watching his, and Steve's, back, all the while hoping he would and wouldn't run into Justin.

He didn't know where his brother was, or what was going on inside his mind. After their fight in the street, he'd run off. That creep Sitwell explained that the Asset was programmed to respond to a series of code words. Spoken in a specific order, and in Russian, the words triggered his mind, his body's CPU, to perform in a certain way, and to carry out a set of instructions at that time.

Chase decided that leaving the scene when local law enforcement arrived must've been programmed into him. If he thought about Justin as a malfunctioning computer, it helped to keep the worry at bay. Sort of. It also gave him ideas about how to "deprogram" his brother. Putting his subconscious to work on the problem, he tuned into the tail end of Steve's conversation with the woman-he called her Kate-and another man he referred to as Klein. But then Klein had called Kate Shar. Confused, and not wanting the others to know, Chase didn't ask. He'd find out soon enough.

At the next junction, Steve went down in a crouch, and Chase did the same on the opposite side with his back to the wall so they could see in both directions. Steve raised his hand to wave them on when Chase heard footsteps. His companion heard them at the same time, coming from a hallway to Chase's left. Counting to three in his head, Chase peeked around the corner, and back. Not sure that he saw what he thought he saw, he looked again.

There was a group of men and women wearing the same uniforms from when he, Steve, Sam and Nat had been captured. And in the middle of the group, as if he belonged, was Justin. His face was hidden by the long hair, but Chase recognized the silver arm with the red star. He gasped involuntarily, and ducked back around the corner before he could be seen.

Steve tapped him on the shoulder, and moved back the way they'd come. Chase did his best to stay focused while at the same time working out a way to separate Justin from the others so he could confront him again, to see if his memory had come back. That scenario wasn't likely, but he could hope, couldn't he?

~~O~~

Three black vans pulled up to the Triskelion's loading dock. The back doors opened, disgorging a total of thirty HYDRA soldiers, and the Asset, though he no longer thought of himself that way. In the hours since he and Zeya had discussed plans to bring down those in charge, he'd remembered more and more of his old life. Flashes of memories popped into his head without warning, causing him to space out anywhere from a few seconds to a several minutes. Thankfully, those with whom he rode in the van thought it normal, and didn't become suspicious.

From the conversation swirling around him, he found out that Steve was expected to try to stop them. If he was here then it stood to reason that Natasha, Chase, and the other man were here as well.

The troops spread out according to the plan conceived by the man called Geisser, and gained entry into the building. His team was tasked with making their way to the hangar, and clearing the way for the ships to take off while the others sought out and eliminated pockets of resistance.

With Geisser in the lead, the group of men and women slowly made their way along one of the side corridors, checking rooms as they went. If the door was locked, it was blown with a small amount of explosives, and thoroughly searched. From what he could see, Justin guessed that most of the building had been evacuated, the staff leaving behind unfinished meals and drinks, and equipment still running.

As they approached a T-junction, Justin raised his weapon, and peered through the sight. He heard familiar sound, and stopped in place for a moment. The man behind him tapped him on the shoulder, and gave him a questioning glance. Staying in character, Justin glared back, but didn't otherwise respond.

 _Chase_. It would be good to see his twin, and when this was all over, he'd be with his family again. A warm feeling tickled his stomach, and brought with it a face. Sable brown hair below her shoulders, dark lashes that surrounded hazel eyes, a ready smile that made small dimples in her cheeks. Her name was… Mentally shaking his head in frustration, Justin tried to put the woman out of his mind. Trouble was, she wouldn't stay out. She kept sneaking in when he wasn't looking, enticing him with that smile, those eyes…

Returning to the present, Justin worked on a plan to stop HYDRA, find Chase, and the others, and get them out safely.

 **Council Chambers**

In one quick movement, Hawley removed the sling, swinging it around to catch Pierce's arm. She tugged, and the gun flew into the air to be caught by Natasha, who had circled around to knock Singh out of the way. One hand tossed a stinger at the guard closest to Pierce, and Natasha used the butt of the weapon to hit him hard enough to make him stumble. He lost his footing, and fell.

Hawley hitched her skirt up, planted her left foot, and spun around, hitting another guard on the side of the head with the toe of her high heel. Continuing into the spin, she bent the right knee, using the left leg to sweep the guard's feet from under him, and coming around to grab the man's knife from its sheath.

Another guard stepped in, and they fought hand to hand until her right hand swooped down to stab him in the leg close, but not into the femoral artery. He released her, and fell to the floor, moaning in pain. Probably due to the fact that she'd left the knife in the wound, and he didn't dare pull it out or risk bleeding to death within seconds.

From the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Sitwell, disguised as Yen, quietly back away from the fighting, his eyes darting over the room, watching, but not helping take out the HYDRA guards. Typical.

Another guard came into the room, weapon aimed at Natasha. She grabbed his gun hand, and pushed it down, kicked at his knees with her right leg, and used her left hand to slam his head against the table, knocking him out, despite the riot helmet he wore.

She and Hawley stood back to back, in anticipation of another attack, but all the guards had been taken out. They lay on the floor, moaning in pain, or unconscious.

Pierce climbed to his feet, wiping blood from his cheek with a handkerchief, and breathing hard.

The women faced him side by side, holding weapons, and wearing nearly identical smirks as Natasha touched her right temple.

Hawley quipped, "I'm sorry..."

Natasha pulled off her mask and wig, dropping them on the table, "…did we step on your moment?"

~~O~~

Keeping out of the way while the women fought the guards, Sitwell planned and waited for the opportunity to take out Pierce. He saw the head of HYDRA glancing at his phone on the table just a few feet away, and knew what it meant.

Surreptitiously, he removed the biometrically controlled badge Pierce had given each of them when they arrived, and dropped it on the unconscious Rawlins, the man who'd been ordered by Pierce to assassinate him. Revenge was supposedly a dish best served cold, but this time, it would be served up hot enough to kill, and he would be there to see it.

He gave a moment's consideration to signaling Romanoff and Hawley, but what the hell? Why should _he_ get his hands dirty when Pierce would be more than happy to do the work himself?

 **Insight Helicarrier Hangar Bay**

With a huff of frustration, Steve asked, "What is it with the Barnes men coming to _me_ for a date?"

Chase flattened his back against the wall, peering through the window in the door, checking for HYDRA agents prowling the halls. "Face it, Steve, you know lots of hot women."

Too busy to roll his eyes, Steve put his hand on the door handle, preparing for the next leg of their quest. "We get out of this alive, you can ask her yourself."

"That works."

Together, the men counted to three in their head. Steve opened the door, Chase ran through, weapon at the ready, and he followed.

At the same time, they both heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered. "Get down!" Steve shouted, using one hand to push Chase to the floor, as he came around with the shield up to protect them both. Bullets pinged off the shield as Steve ran toward the guard, taking him out with one strike.

Chase disarmed the man, shoving weapons in various places on his person, cradling the AR-15 like it was a baby. They took off down the hall again, turning left and right, and soon arrived outside the hangar bay.

Straight ahead, they could see Charlie, with Alpha off to the left, and Bravo sitting nice and cozy in the middle. Seeing movement at the far end of the dock, Steve tapped Chase, and pointed at Bucky and Mia creeping toward Alpha. They dropped down behind a pallet stacked high with boxes until a guard passed by. Then they snuck onto the ship. Both were wearing backpacks with the buckles hooked in the front like Steve and Chase. Made it hard to take off if they were caught from behind, but it kept the enemy from taking it from them easily.

When they'd gone, Steve motioned to Chase, and together they slipped out onto the dock, taking a similar route to Charlie that Bucky and Mia had taken to board Alpha.

 **Insight Command Center**

Directly ahead of Cameron was the last flight of steps to Insight Command, and Commander Hill. He crept up to the landing, and peeked in the window. Hill was busy countermanding overrides from the three helicarriers, her forehead crinkled in concentration.

He tapped on the glass with a knuckle and waved. Without hesitating, she opened the door. Cameron darted in, and it closed behind him as he lay the AR-15 on the console within easy reach. "Captain Rogers sent me to assist. Where are we?"

Hill rolled her chair to the side, and he dropped into an empty chair.

"Mostly waiting for them to try something, and taking steps to prevent it."

The events in Operations had built up his confidence to a point that Cameron felt as if he could finally pass his weapons and field agent quals. He cracked his neck on the right then the left, and stretched his fingers. "No problem, Commander. We got this."

The screen flashed, and he went to work. Every so often, Hill gave him a sidelong glance, as if he'd surprised her. Good.

 **Inside the Triskelion**

Before they left the secret lab, Justin had made note of its location so he could find his way back when this was all over. He planned on destroying all their research, equipment, and take out as many of the scientists as he could so they wouldn't be able to open up shop in another location, and go back to making Assets out of hard working soldiers who only wanted to serve their country.

He couldn't leave the group until he was given orders to do so. Only then would he be able to put his own plan into action, his and Zeya's. It was her idea to destroy the command center so that the helicarriers would have to link up manually rather than using the algorithm to fire all three simultaneously.

Zeya had written what she called a virus program. All he had to do was upload it into the command center's computer where it would seek out the algorithm, and insert itself into the program. When it was uploaded to the targeting computers, the helicarriers would reset their systems, and fire unaided at each other instead of innocent civilians.

"Asset!" Keeping his expression blank, Justin turned toward the squad leader, blinking once. "It's time."

Justin didn't acknowledge the order. He simply turned, and jogged away from the group. When he was out of sight, he let himself into an empty office by breaking the lock with his metal fist.

Setting his weapons within easy reach, Justin went into the attached bathroom, and came back with a hand towel, which he used his knife to cut into strips. He rolled the right sleeve of his leather jacket up to the elbow, and turned his arm over. He lay the knife on the desk, and drew his fingers over the middle of his flesh and blood forearm, pressing down slightly, until his found the tracking device that had been implanted under the skin. Using the super-sharp knife, he cut through the skin over the device. Then he used the point to dig out the implant, and set it and the knife on the desk again.

Picking up the strips of terry cloth, Justin wrapped them around the wound, and used his teeth to pull the knot tight enough to staunch the flow of blood. With the sleeve rolled down, no one would know.

Picking up the implant, about twice the size of a grain of rice, he took one of the small round grenades out, and shove it into the casing, bending the metal so it wouldn't fall out.

Justin put the grenade into a specific pocket, sealed the closure, and picked up his weapons. Something his grandfather used to say came to him as he left the office, and headed for the council chambers on the top floor.

 _Shit's about to get real, pal._

 **Insight Helicarrier Hangar Bay**

Once inside Alpha, Bucky ran point with Mia watching their six. If Dad, Aunt Carolyn, and Uncle Martin found out that he put their children in danger, they would probably disown him. Mia had never been in combat, but even she knew the trick with this type of operation was not to die while stopping the bad guys.

Up ahead, they heard two crew members coming. He passed the AR-15 to Mia, waited for them to pass their hiding place, and took them out. With a scowl, Mia handed his weapon back. "I could've done that."

Bucky hefted the weapon. "Like to keep my skills sharp."

"Hmph."

As they passed a nearly unnoticeable door, Mia read the marker. Rubbing the fingers of her right hand together, she created a charge of electricity, just enough to fry the lock, the indicator that would show on the bridge, and any cameras in the area. She tapped Bucky on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow.

They found themselves in an access shaft that would give them entry to any floor they wished. Looking up, she guessed that it went all the way to their destination. Hooking the AR-15 over her head, Mia began to climb, making as little noise as possible just in case anyone was monitoring. She would have to take out the rest of the cameras as they went, and just hope no one was watching.

Near the top, Mia looked around, comparing her position with the schematic in her head. To get where they had to be, they needed to use the ladder on the opposite side. Holding onto the rung, she leaned out over the deep chasm, reaching for the other side, and missed.

Feeling vibration in the metal, Mia looked down, but her grandfather was gone. She found him just below, and across, on the very ladder they had to be on. He climbed up to her level, hooked his right arm around the rung at shoulder height, turned to the side, and motioned for her to jump, that he would catch her.

Mia looked down, and vehemently shook her head. Bucky motioned emphatically, and still she shook no. Using ASL, he reminded her of their mission, and she gave in.

Turning around with her back to the ladder, Mia held onto the sides of the rungs. Bucky counted to three, Mia closed her eyes, and jumped.

~~O~~

To get to Bravo, Sharon came up with plan. It wasn't great plan, but it was all she had. She let herself into a supply room. There, she changed into one of the black uniforms she'd seen their teams wearing. The long sleeves of the shirt covered the bandage on her right arm. She also stole a mask, flak vest, and several Tasers. Thanks to Aunt Peggy, she had enough electrical knowledge to link them together in order to short out the helicarrier's systems, and keep them from taking off. Or at least slow them down enough for Steve and the others to join her on board Bravo.

As Sharon was about to leave the supply room, she heard a group coming down the hall. Shoving ammo, and weapons in various pockets. Cracking the door, she waited for them to pass, picking the last in the group as her quarry, simply because she was blonde, and she didn't have a wig.

She purposely made a noise that drew their attention, and as she hoped, the leader sent her to investigate. Sharon knocked her out with a three-part salvo. A punch to the solar plexus, an upper cut, followed by an elbow to the side of the head. The woman went down like a ragdoll.

Sharon tied her up, gagged her, and took the headset from her right ear so she could listen in on HYDRA while still getting a running update from her own team. She programmed the mask by laying it over the other woman's face, and touching the left temple. It blurred, and when it cleared, the mask was a duplicate of the other woman's face. Placing the mask over her own face, she touched the right temple to activate it. Hopefully, it would pass muster long enough to get her on board Bravo. Then she could break off from the group, and work out how to help Steve.

With her shoulders back, Sharon strode confidently down the hall to join the team. The leader and the others barely acknowledged her. Good. That meant this might work.

One by one, the team spread out as the crossed the deck to Bravo. The leader pressed his thumb to the sensor. The door clicked open, and shut automatically once they were all inside. At a signal from the leader, whose name she didn't know, Sharon and a stocky African-American man inched down the hallway to the right. As they reached the corner, the man pressed her up against the wall with a forearm across her throat. He moved in close, his voice low and grating. "You're not Desmond! Who the *** are you?"

Sharon didn't answer quick enough for him, so he pressed even harder, cutting off her air. Dark spots popped in her vision as her brain was starved for oxygen. Her arms and hands weakened. The AR-15 fell to the floor with a clatter. She tried wedging her fingers between the man's arm, and her throat, but her hands wouldn't obey her commands. Her legs refused to hold her, as she lost the battle with consciousness.

 **TBC**


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 50**

 **The Lockwood Home**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

The Lockwood home was filled with family, though not for a happy occasion. Carolyn, her husband Martin, Serenity, Collin, and Carolyn's siblings were all on their phones.

"Has anyone gotten through to Chase or Mia?" They all shook their heads. "What about Dad, Natasha or Steve?" Again, a negative reply. "I talked to Joi. She, Elyse, and Frank are okay."

Serenity signed, _Anything more about what's going on downtown?_

Getting to his feet, Steve James, who had been monitoring the news coverage of the shootout, signed and spoke, "Nothing more. Looks like the first responders are still taking away the dead and injured."

 _Michael and Olivia called all the hospitals in the area. They haven't been admitted_ , Collin told them.

Suzanna went to take the remote from the table next to Steven James. "Are you certain you saw Steve and the others being arrested? There was so much confusion, the news agencies all giving different information."

Steve James held his wife's hand. "No. Not really. The video was taken from a helicopter, and the people being arrested were surrounded by a huge SWAT team. But the blonde looked like Steve."

Coming from the kitchen with a pot of coffee and cups, Jacob set it all on the coffee table. "While the coffee was brewing, I called the carriers. Their phones are all turned off. Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," was Carolyn's response. "According to Dad, Natasha never turns hers off. And Chase has to be available for his IT company and Tunnel Vision."

"With their phones off, it doesn't make sense to keep calling. We've left tons of messages," Martin added. He looked at the clock. "Let's all go home and get some rest, and if anyone hears anything pertinent, call or text."

 **Insight Helicarrier Hangar Bay**

Mia's leap was a little short. Leaning out, Bucky grabbed her hand as she fell, holding on until she stopped swaying, and was able to grab onto a rung with her free hand. She jerked out of his grip, holding onto the metal bars, and panting. Bucky was proud of the way his granddaughter hadn't screamed, trusting him to keep her safe. "You okay? Did I hurt you?"

Pressing her forehead against her hands holding onto the rung, she shook no. "I-I'm fine, Gramps. Just let me catch my breath."

" _I_ don't have a problem with it, but the bad guys have other plans. Like blowing the ship up rather than letting SHIELD have control."

Finally, Mia looked up. "What good would it do? From what Nat and Steve tell us, SHIELD would be able to reverse engineer the tech."

"A last-ditch effort to save face? 'If we're going to hell, you're going too?' Let's go get this over with." Assuming she would be right behind him, Bucky climbed up two more hatches, and kept going so Mia could do her thing. She shorted out the system, wedged her fingers into the door jamb, and forced it open. Once his granddaughter was inside, he joined her. He headed down the hallway, stopping when she grabbed his backpack, and pointed in the other direction.

Signing _this is it_ , Mia let Bucky know they'd reached their destination. She opened the door, and took off her backpack as they stepped out onto a platform from which a catwalk extended over a forty to fifty foot drop onto a set of windows braced with a metal alloy, according to Steve.

On the other side was a tower with a walkway that went around it, like the top of a lighthouse. Bucky dug in the side pocket of the backpack and took out two blades. One was an alteration to the targeting computers, and the other removed the commands that allowed the helicarriers to lift off.

Once that was done, it was up to Mia to use a blast of electricity to damage the door controls so they opened before the bay lifted out of the river, flooding the bay so the helicarriers couldn't take off. The problem with that was the number of crew on board. No one wanted them to die, but it was a numbers game. Several hundred on the helicarriers, or millions of innocent civilians.

To Bucky, the choice was simple. Save the guiltless at the expense of the guilty.

~~O~~

Sharon regained consciousness to find herself being carried. She didn't know who it was, but he was strong, and fast. He went into an unoccupied room, and lay her on the floor. Kneeling beside her, he lightly slapped her cheeks. "Wake up. C'mon. Wake up, and listen."

She pushed his hand away, and blinked in the bright overhead lights that silhouetted his form. Long hair, and black clothing were all she could see. "Stop! Ima wake."

"Listen to me. You have to get off this ship now. Don't hesitate, don't stop. Just _go_."

Pressing her hands into the floor, Sharon tried to sit up. "Can't. Gotta stop HYDRA. Steve's countin' on me. Already let 'im down once. Can't do it again."

There was a pause. Then, her savior whispered, "You know Steve Rogers?"

"Sorta. Was assigned to protect 'im." She fell back, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, man! I have the _worst_ headache."

"That's from the lack of oxygen. Keep taking deep breaths. You'll be fine." He brushed the hair out of her face. "I need you to give him a message." Sharon's consciousness wavered again, and she felt dizzy. "Please. Can you do this for me?"

Her right hand patted the floor until she felt his leg, and he took her hand, holding tight, but not too much so. "'Kay. Whass da message?"

The man's voice spoke, but she could barely understand the words. Then, the dizziness abated enough that Sharon could think again. She opened her eyes, and sat up, finding herself alone. At first, she thought she'd dreamt the man, but then she found a boot print on the floor next to her, and a smudge that could be from the knee of his pants. Getting to her feet, she held onto the edge of the desk through another dizzy spell, breathing steadily, and soon she could think clearly once more. Did she really hear a man's voice, or was it oxygen-starved delirium?

She patted her pockets, and found her weapons hadn't been taken. _Small favors_ … At least she was still on the helicarrier. Touching her face confirmed that she no longer had the mask. Had the man who saved her removed it, or did it come off while Brookes was choking the life out of her?

Checking the hall, Sharon slipped out, slowly making her way back to where Brookes had tried to kill her. The mask was on the floor. She shoved it into a pocket, and kept going. The best way to stop the helicarrier from getting into the air was to disable the systems two level down from the bridge. While working, she would need both hands free, and be vulnerable to attack. She needed someone to watch her back. _Should've brought Cam. He could do the work while I stand guard. Too late now_.

Hearing someone coming, and not knowing if that person was HYDRA or SHIELD, Sharon hid in an office until they went by.

On the move again, she made it all the way to the level where the targeting computers were housed without any real plan for stopping the ship. As she got closer, the sound of someone breathing reached her ears. She didn't want to shoot the person, but they probably wouldn't give her a choice.

Counting to three in her head, Sharon readied her weapon, and spun out onto the platform, coming face to face with the last person she wanted to see. "Frankie."

"Shar." Her now ex-girlfriend didn't look surprised to see her. "What're you doing here? Thought you'd be defending SHIELD's center of operations."

"And _I_ thought…" Sharon relaxed her stance slightly straightening her hunched posture, and Frankie did as well. " _How_ can you be a part of this? These people don't care about _you_. You're disposable, a redshirt. They would kill you without a second thought if there was even a hint of betrayal."

Frankie made a sound of frustration. "You just don't understand, and never will." She took a step closer, letting the muzzle of her weapon dip toward the floor. "You see the world as you want it to be. I see it as it is. War, poverty, disease, hunger, crime… HYDRA has a plan to end it all."

Sharon's hands clenched on the AR-15. "Sounds like you think humanity is a sickness."

"People in general aren't so bad. But when they get together in groups, they become a mindless creature that will trample anything and everything in its path. Society, not just ours, but all over the world, is becoming a cancer. Sometimes the only way to rid the body of the disease is to excise it, cut it out."

"And some of the healthy tissue has to be sacrificed to make sure you get it all." The light in Frankie's eyes changed at the comment. Like she thought Sharon was beginning to see things her way. "Who?" The other woman shook her head, confused by the question. "Who recruited you into HYDRA?"

For the first time since they met, Frankie appeared ashamed. She let the hand holding her weapon fall down by her side. "Never told you where I grew up. Miami Gardens, Florida. The murder rate there is more than five times the national average. The city is ruled by at least a dozen gangs operating within its borders. It's nearly ******* _impossible_ to break the cycle of poverty and violence. It just goes on and on." Their eyes met again. "I graduated high school, barely, but I did it. The next day, I hopped a bus out of town, and didn't look back. Trouble was I didn't know any other life than drugs and violence, and got involved with a group who made their living stealing high end cars, and selling them for parts."

"What happened?"

Turning away, Frankie looked out the transparent enclosure, her voice taking on a dream-like quality. "What always happens, Shar. We got caught. Police raided the place, took us all in to be booked. Seems one of the guys was an undercover." Frankie shrugged one shoulder. "So my public defender comes up with the idea to keep me outta jail by enlisting in the military. The judge accepts, and I'm off to the Marines.

"That's where I met Asa Rollins. He was my squad leader. The first time I copped a 'tude with him, he set me straight. Called me on my big mouth, and push-back of authority. It took a while, but eventually, I became a model soldier.

"Our tours were up at the same time, mine and Asa's. He went to work for SHIELD, and asked me to come along. Year or so in, he introduces me to this guy, didn't tell me his name, but he had a lot to say. Convinced me that HYDRA was the best hope for saving our world."

Unable to believe that the woman she cared for was repeating propaganda that had been fed to her over the years, Sharon said nothing, for the moment. What was there to say? All she'd done was love Frankie, not help her do a one eighty when she was headed down a destructive path. That was the problem with caring deeply about someone. You always hope your love will be enough, but it never is. They're with you, yet not, certain that there's something better down the road, no matter how long or how far they have to walk.

Frankie's ponytail swung around to hang over her right shoulder as she turned at a sound from the hallway. Sharon turned at the same time, both women aiming their weapons at the open door. To anyone else, it would look like they were on the same side. But looks can be, and are, deceiving.

The noise wasn't repeated. And they both relaxed somewhat, their eyes meeting once more. Frankie turned to the side. "Aren't you going say something?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this? Not about HYDRA, but what it was like for you growing up? I would've understood."

Shaking her head sadly, Frankie looked at the floor. "No, you wouldn't. _Your_ life was filled with privilege, a loving family, never wanting for anything. You don't know what it's like to always wonder where your next meal is coming from, or if you'll go hungry, sitting in the dark, listening to the rats in the walls because your single mom couldn't afford to pay the electric bill when she lost her job, and the choice was food and electric, or living on the street. You've never been afraid to walk down to the park to play because the gang members harass you, and call you names, push you around, and laugh about it." For the first time since they'd known each other, Sharon saw tears in Frankie's eyes. "And you weren't standing next to your older brother when he was killed in a drive-by."

Sharon reached out, and after a moment, Frankie took the offering. She moved in close, taking the other woman in her arms, and they stood there, holding onto each other.

They put space between them, and Sharon saw Frankie's hand tighten on the trigger of her weapon. "I know why you're here. It's my job to stop you."

"And you know I can't let you."

One side of Frankie's mouth turned up. "Yeah."

In an instant, the atmosphere changed, and aggression filled the air. The AR-15 wouldn't be practical in close quarters. However, it could be used as a bludgeon. Her thumb flipped the safety on, and relief whispered through her when Frankie did the same, bringing her own weapon up to block Sharon's attack.

Though she was the taller of the two, Sharon wasn't as strong as Frankie. She would have to make up for it with skill.

~~O~~

When Justin came on board Bravo, he intended to destroy the ship himself. Then he discovered that Steve and a group of friends were already on the job.

He'd stopped the man from choking the life out of the blonde woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered meeting her in the lobby of an old apartment building. The name Kate blinked like a neon sign about to burn out. In his memory, he associated her with Steve, and so he used her to send the super-soldier a message.

 _Tell my family I love them, but I can't come home just yet. Tell them… Tell them not to look for me_.

How could he be around the people he loved with his mind filled with the **** that HYDRA had put in it? He didn't trust himself, and being with them would only put their lives in danger.

As his memory came back a little at a time, faces floated in and out of Justin's mind. People that he'd killed while in a hypnotic state, and then later, as this thing he'd been turned into. Zeya had called him the Winter Soldier, and he gathered that he'd taken his grandfather's place. By listening when the doctors and soldiers thought he didn't understand, Justin found out that he'd replaced Gramps in this capacity. Not out of vengeance for Gramps getting away. But because that had been the plan all along. HYDRA had simply moved up the timetable when Gramps had broken free of their hold.

In the decades that HYDRA had been using his grandfather, the doctors had learned from their mistakes. Their biggest had been allowing their "asset" to lead a normal life, and bring him in only when they needed his services. He might've gone on like that for the rest of his life, if it hadn't been for Natasha.

Justin smiled as he made his way to the deck. He admired Natasha in so many ways. Some of which he still couldn't recall. Most of all, he appreciated her for what she'd done for Gramps. She got him out of that dusty museum, and living again. Really living.

More faces skimmed through his memory. Most of the names, he remembered. All but one. The woman with the dark hair. The one that made him feel warm all over. Why couldn't he remember her name?

Voices came from the hallway to his right, unfamiliar, harsh. More HYDRA goons, as Gramps would say. If they found him, he would have to go along with whatever they said, and Justin had his own mission: to find Alexander Pierce… and kill him.

~~O~~

Steve used the shield to gain entry into the helicarrier. Chase could've hacked the lock, but this was quicker. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a man in black sneaking back into the building. Light from the control room reflected off of metal, and a red star came into sight just before he disappeared.

 _Justin!_

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Chase followed Steve down the first hallway. But he couldn't get Justin out of his mind. He had to know if his brother could be reclaimed, turned back into the man he once was.

He crouched at the corner across from Steve, and like inside the building, waited for Steve to go ahead. Though he was expected to join him, Chase waited until the super-soldier was out of the line of sight to turn around and return the way they'd come. He made it without being caught, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Cocking his head to the side, he heard footsteps at the far edge of his hearing. They echoed slightly, telling Chase that someone had gone into the stairwell, and was heading up. Hoping against hope that it was his brother, he eased the door open, and began the climb. There was light. Not much, but more than enough to see by.

When Chase reached a floor in the mid-thirties, he found the door had been left slightly ajar. There wasn't a window, so he took a chance. Wedging his fingers into the crack, he eased the door open, and quickly stepped through, holding the door so it wouldn't slam.

He didn't know what this floor was used for, but it was so dark, at first he could only see amorphous shapes that may or may not be desks, file cabinets, chairs, and other office detritus. Not even the emergency lights were on.

Hefting his weapon, he let his left shoulder brush the wall to keep from getting lost. As long as he didn't wander off, he'd be able to find the stairwell again, or even another. A place this big had to have more than one.

The creaks and pops of the building settling, as well as the staccato beat of weapons fire, and fighting mixed together in a kind of musical tune, but in there, underneath the song was another. A shoe on carpeting, a short inhale, the whisper of clothing against skin. Whatever it was, it meant he wasn't alone.

With his sharpened senses, he could feel that the air he passed through was slightly warmer than that behind him. The other person had been here within the last minute or so. Chase recalled watching a movie where a blind man's other senses had become more sensitive with the loss of his sight at a young age, allowing him to navigate his world without the use of a cane except in large crowds. That's how he knew to duck when his opponent swung a fist at his head.

Chase let go of the AR-15, and it hit the carpet with a muted thump. He drove his fist into the other man's ribs, and hooked a foot behind his leg, sending him stumbling backward. He righted himself, and the two engaged in earnest.

His opponent was fast, and agile, and he could take a punch. They moved around the room, knocking over chairs, pushing computers, phones, and other crap onto the floor. Chase did his best to avoid tripping over things, noting idly that the other man smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks.

The other man swung left then right, over and over, missing Chase's head by less than an inch most times. He could feel the warmth of his skin when it did connect, and the power behind those punches. Chase made contact nearly as often, yet the man barely reacted except when he got him in the solar plexus.

Then, not the worst-case scenario, but not good, happened. Chase tripped on an overturned chair, and fell backwards, landing on his back. He could see better now that his eyes had adjusted, and didn't much care for the dark form lurking above him.

It leapt over the chair. Chase rolled away at the last second, and got to his feet, but before he could get his defenses up, the man got him around the throat with one hand. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to inhale, or he'd run out of oxygen before he could get free.

He twisted and turned, punched and kicked, trying to break the other man's hold, but couldn't. In a last-ditch effort to save his own life, he wrapped both hands around his opponent's wrist, feeling not the warmth of flesh and blood, but the smooth hardness of metal.

Giving it all he had, Chase wedged his thumbs under the bottom edge of the palm, managing to get enough room to take another breath, and speak a few words, "Justin, stop! Please!"

The pressure on his windpipe vanished, and Chase fell to hands and knees, panting, and coughing. With a groan, he sat back on his heels, hands on his thighs. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed again, and was about to stand when a hand grabbed him under the left arm, and dragged him to his feet, and back the way they'd come.

Chase's foot hit something. He jerked free to pick up the AR-15.

Then, the hand was back, gripping his arm like a vise, and pulling him along until they came to the stairwell door. It opened, and he was shoved unceremoniously through hard enough that he fell against the railing. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Chase turned around, and just as he hoped, the man standing in front of him was his long-lost twin.

Justin's boyish looks had been replaced by distrust, and hardness. Chase reached out to hug his brother, but Justin stepped back at the last second, avoiding the touch. Chase curled his fingers into loose fists, and let them drop to his sides. "Do you remember me, Justin?"

Eyes the same color of blue as his own searched his face with an unreadable expression, and for a moment, Chase didn't think he would answer. He did _not_ appear to be happy to see him.

"What are you doing here, Chase?"

 **TBC**

Miami Gardens, Florida - While the overall crime rate has notably dropped in recent years, the town continues to have a murder rate more than five times the national average and there are at least a dozen known gangs operating in its borders. Since incorporating as its own city in 2003, city leaders have tried to redevelop the city and attract business investments to break the cycle of poverty and violence, but gains are slow. (Info on Miami Gardens, Florida was found online. The information here is a direct copy and paste from the site.)


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Bravo, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 51**

Crouching next to her backpack, Mia removed the small round grenades that would-hopefully-destroy the targeting and firing computer so the ship couldn't be used to kill the innocent. Beside her, Bucky had taken out the tools and the blades that would upload the virus to destroy the algorithm.

Signing, Mia asked, _Why don't we just fry everything? They'd get the blue screen of death, and that's that._

 _It's not enough to destroy the computers. The virus is designed to rewrite the algorithm so it can't be used, as long as anyone who has a copy connects to the Internet._

She huffed. _What's to stop someone from recreating it? We can't stop all of them_.

Her grandfather shrugged, and signed for her to stay while he set the grenades, and replaced the targeting blade. It made her laugh, silently. _I should go_. Mia rubbed her fingers together to create a spark. _I'm the detonator, remember?_

 _You can't detonate that close to the tower, Mia. I'll go, and you watch my back_.

At the same time, they heard the footsteps of several people coming their way. Mia had locked the door by zapping the controls. That left them locked out here on the platform, but they already had an escape strategy.

When the footstep had faded, they went back to work. Bucky set the grenades where they would do the most damage. There was no guarantee that this would work, but they'd give it the old college try.

Listening at the door, Mia nodded to Bucky that the coast was clear. She yanked the broken door open, and the pair made their way to their next target. One by one, they wired the grenades with an electronic detonator that would send Mia's blast of electricity to the grenades, setting them off a few at a time to keep the crew off balance.

With their mission accomplished, Mia and Bucky returned to the hatch through which they'd come. They were within moments of being home free when two squads of HYDRA agents surrounded them as they were crossing the deck.

"Drop the backpacks and your weapons," ordered the leader, a clean cut, wiry fellow who looked more like he belonged behind the desk at an accounting firm than being part of a terrorist organization bent on world domination. They also knew he wasn't playing.

The guns and backpacks hit the deck, and the pair allowed themselves to be tied. And why not? Both were strong enough to break the restraints, but at a time of their choosing.

The leader motioned for them to be brought closer. He looked from one to the other then at the men and women holding them. "Take her to the bridge. We'll deal with this one."

Not giving the HYDRA goons the satisfaction of even pretending to be scared, Mia went along with them without a fuss. Bucky did the same, and when she looked over her shoulder, she could see him signing behind his back, and smiled.

"HYDRA doesn't take prisoners. That means you're gonna die soon. What's so funny about that?"

Because smiling made them uneasy, Mia kept it up. "I've always wanted to tour one of these. Can we stop in the gift shop on the way out? I wanna get a shot glass for my collection."

One of the women gave her a shove to shut her up. "Quiet!"

 _Not happenin', b****!_

As they passed one of the quinjets, she peered at the underside with her mouth open. "Whoa! I shoulda bought the gold ticket so I could go for a ride in one of those."

The woman poked her again as they reached the hatch. "I said _quiet_."

To throw her and the squad off, Mia gave her a leisurely onceover, leering, and grinning. "O-oh. I _like_ a woman who takes charge. What's your name, sweet cheeks?"

The rest of the squad snickered, and the guard shot them a glare. "My door don't swing that way."

Mia lifted one shoulder, and let it drop. "Neither does mine, but I'm willing to try almost anything once." As she passed the embarrassed woman, Mia leaned close to stage whisper, "As long as _I_ get to be on top."

She was shoved again, harder this time, while the other guards laughed. "I said shut the **** up!"

"I'm sure you didn't." Tilting her head to the side in thought, Mia pursed her lips. "No. You said 'quiet'." A longsuffering sigh came out. "Trouble is I can't be quiet. Not in my nature. Even talk and walk in my sleep. Been known to get a little frisky in my sleep too." To keep them off balance even more, Mia kept going, turning her attention to a couple of the guys, getting as close as possible, and winking. " _If_ you know what I mean, fellas. BFs could only take being woken up with a hard-on in the middle of the night for so long before makin' themselves scarce. Then, a few years ago, something happened that, well, it just turned my whole life upside down. Dropped out of college, and roamed the country for a couple of years lookin' for answers."

The squad, especially the woman she'd propositioned, looked at her as if waiting for the next part of the story. Finally, one of the men asked, "So what happened?"

"First I should explain that the man I was with is my grandfather. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. He's way too young and hot to be a grandfather. See, what happened was in World War II, he was captured by a mad scientist by the name of Arnim Zola. And like Steve Rogers, he was shot full of this serum that changed him." She cocked her head to the side. "Those souped up genes were passed onto his progeny, giving some of them what you might call superpowers." The group stopped, and one of the men called for the lift. Mia just kept talking because the timing had to be just right.

"My superpower is different than my cousins though. You see, in addition to being exceptionally strong and fast…" Mia jerked her wrists in opposite directions, breaking the zip tie, quickly disarming and knocking out three of the squad members. The rest had been caught off guard, as Mia had intended.

"I can do this…" She'd never used the power to kill before, and wouldn't now. She created a strong electrical field that filled the hallway floor to ceiling. As they brought their weapons up to fire at her, the shield deflected the bullets, some of which ricocheted and hit a couple of the squad. Three of them fell against the lift door, falling inside when it opened.

Making a pushing motion, Mia sent the field toward the remaining guards, knocking them out. Standing in the hall with her hands at her sides, she looked down at her former captors. "Well, hell's bells. Now I won't get to finish my story."

One by one, she dragged the guards into the lift, leaving them in an undignified pile. She leaned in, and hit the button for the top floor, pulling her hand out before the doors closed.

Mia reached over her left shoulder with her right hand, and patted herself on the back. She picked up one of the discarded weapons, and made the return trip back to the deck.

Peeking out the door, she didn't see anyone. She readied herself for a quick sprint and a jump over the side when an explosion rocked the entire bay. It was followed quickly by three more.

 _Damn! We're supposed to be on Bravo by now!_

Another blast, much bigger than the others, shook Alpha, and Mia lost her footing. She fell to the floor, the AR-15 flying into the air and over the side. The ship rocked again, and when it stopped, the deck was tilted at an angle. As if it were there with her, she heard groaning and the tearing of metal.

Through the hatch, she could see that the bay was dark. Using the edge of the hatch to pull herself up and out, Mia got to her feet, and moved toward the bow, intending to jump off, and get the heck out of Dodge. That plan went out the window as Alpha shifted again.

She heard a rumbling, followed by the bay doors opening, and the Potomac pouring in. _O-oh, not good!_

Mia tapped the headset to activate it. "This is Mia. Does anyone copy?"

" _This is Sam, Mia. Where are you? Is that water?_ "

"Um, about that. I'm stuck on Alpha, and water's coming in. The bay's flooding."

She heard the whoosh of his wingpack, followed by gunfire. " _Dammit! Ha! Take that, HYDRA!_ "

The distant sound of an airplane crashing reached her at the same time another explosion shook Alpha. Looking up, she could now see the sky through the millions of gallons of water still coming in. "I could use a lift. Wanna help a girl out?"

In her mind, Mia could see Sam's brown eyes, and smile that accompanied the laughter in her ear. " _I thought the Barnes family had all these superpowers. Why don't you just go for a swim?_ "

"Two reasons. One, the water's moving too fast."

" _And two?_ "

Mia didn't want to give away one of her personal secrets, but now wasn't the time for vanity. "I don't know how to swim!"

~~O~~

Charlie's first explosion set off a chain reaction that Steve hadn't intended. If Chase hadn't taken off, this would've gone as planned. Steve rushed up to the deck, and while he was planning his next move, a HYDRA goon fired at him with a weapon that used a force beam strong enough to destroy anything in its path to go by the smoldering chunks of metal to his left and right.

The man took a bead on him, and Steve brought the shield up to protect himself. The beam's impact with the shield sent him flying up and back. He came down on Bravo's deck just as the water came pouring in. His suit was waterproof, but that didn't stop it from getting inside. And it smelled rank.

Steve looked up, and saw Sam swoop into the bay, confusing him when his friend flew over Alpha, disappearing around the con tower. Then Sam came out the other side carrying someone that looked like Mia. She was facing him with her arms around his neck while he flew. He tapped his headset. "Mia, where's Bucky?"

" _We got made. The guards split us up. He's probably on his way to you now._ "

"Copy that. I'll keep a look-out." Sam and Mia disappeared from sight as Steve took out a double squad of guards with his shield. "Anyone seen Chase?"

Static crackled in his ear, and when it cleared, he was relieved to hear a familiar voice. " _Shit! Damn HYDRA goons knocked me into the water. I'm out now, and headed for Bravo. Not sure how long the headset will last._ " They heard shooting, and fighting then Bucky was back. " _Haven't seen Chase. How could you lose a hundred and eighty-pound armed IT guy?_ "

Steve resisted responding in kind to his best friend's use of language. A lie seemed the prudent option in this situation. "We got separated, Buck. Not sure where he is. May not have his headset or he'd be giving us hell by now."

~~O~~

When the guards had taken Mia back inside, the leader grabbed Bucky by the arm, dragging him across the deck because he refused to pick up his feet.

"Who are you?"

Because it made jailers uncomfortable when a doomed prisoner smiled, Bucky did so. "I'm crushed that no one in HYDRA recognizes me. I'm one of Zola's most successful experiments," he proclaimed proudly. "I'd flex, but, well…" he wiggled his restrained hands.

The leader finally put it all together. "You're James Barnes."

"You _do_ remember me! You know, because of Zola, I'm ninety-seven with the body of a forty… okay fifty-year-old, with none of the usual age-related issues that plague so many of this world's elderly. My fiancée will be thirty in November, and my best friend is marrying my granddaughter." Pausing for comments, Bucky was just a little annoyed when the guards made none. "I can run faster than an Olympian, and I'm stronger than a world-class weight-lifter."

To prove his boasting, Bucky snapped the wrist restraints, and quickly took out his guards. " _Ha_. Never knew what hit 'em."

Moving around the unconscious HYDRA guards as if they were too slimy to step on, Bucky disarmed them, keeping a couple weapons for himself, and tossing the rest in the water that was rapidly filling the bay. He squeezed the water out of his hair, and pushed it off his face as he sidled up to the doorway.

Getting to Bravo would be problematical with the open expanse of deck between his hiding place and the ship. Mapping out in his mind where he wanted to go once he was on board, Bucky eased around the corner, and behind a shrink-wrapped pallet. He readied himself for a run, staying still as Bravo lifted into the air while the bay doors were still opening. Hoping to stop it, he dashed out onto the deck, and turned to face the control room ten feet above him.

Bringing his weapon up, he aimed for the weakest points on the windows, switched over to fully automatic, breathed in, and let it out as he squeezed the trigger. The men and women inside the control room rushed to get away, probably thinking he was trying to kill them.

 _Nope. Not gonna happen. Not unless you give me no choice, HYDRA scum. Knew you guys were trouble back in WWII. At least your creepy leader's long gone, that red-faced sonofa****, and that sorry excuse for a scientist and a human being, Zola!_

All Bucky wanted to do was keep them away from the controls long enough for Steve to take down Bravo on his own, because it was too late to join him. In many ways, Steve was still that skinny kid from Brooklyn who refused to back down from a fight. From the first time a bully had pushed the sickly six-year-old off the swings on the playground in kindergarten, Bucky had vowed to always be there to take care of him. It wasn't anyone's fault that he couldn't keep that promise when Steve ditched Schmidt's plane in the North Atlantic to save the residents of New York. If he'd been there, Bucky would've gone with Steve, and they both would've been at the bottom of the ocean.

The thought that he might not have his family, kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, made Bucky scared, and angry. They had to find a way to bring down HYDRA. Natasha and that jerk Sitwell hadn't shared their plans with the rest of the team. He just hoped this would be all over soon, and no one got badly hurt in the process.

~~O~~

Without appearing to do so, Justin took in his brother's clothing. An image floated out where he could see it clearly, and a name teased at his memory. Mentally rolling his eyes, Justin avoided his brother's hug, taking a step back. "What are you doing here, Chase?"

His brother leaned against the railing, crossing his arms, and grinning wryly. "It's good to see you too, Big Brother."

"This isn't a time for sarcasm. People are gonna die, and I'm trying to stop it."

The grin was gone as quickly as it came. Chase pushed off the railing, closing the physical distance between them. "And what, _exactly_ , do you think _I'm_ doing here? Not on a sightseeing tour, Just. Those HYDRA a-holes have tried to kill all of us more than once in the past couple of days." He pointed a finger in the air for emphasis. "Not counting when _you_ tried to kill Nat, Steve, Sam and me. The Barnes family is resilient, and we'll bounce back even stronger."

"Who's here?"

"Steve, Nat, Gramps, Mia, Sam, me, and a bottom-feeding scumbag by the name of Sitwell." Chase must've seen something in his eyes. "Five-nine, bald, glasses, arrogance out the wazoo. Know him?"

While fanciful, the description brought to mind an obsequious little man who followed the leader around like a love-sick puppy, agreeing with everything the man said. Brown-noser was the term. "You could say that." Justin narrowed a glare at him. "What're Mia and Gramps doing here?"

"Same damn thing we are, bro. Takin' down the bad guys."

"Do Mom and Dad know?"

Chase snorted loud enough to make it echo. "Hell no! If they knew, we might as well let HYDRA kill us, and get it over with, because Mom would torture us for the rest of our natural lives." He looked down at his feet, and back up until their eyes met again. "So how'd you…"

"Get out from under HYDRA's control?" His brother nodded. "I had help. A friend. After I kill their leader, I have to go after her."

The eye roll Chase mimed was highly exaggerated. "Trust you to fall for a woman, or man, while you're a psycho-assassin for the ultimate bad guys."

Not as annoyed at the implication as he thought he should be, Justin half-smiled. "She's a woman, and a _friend_ , Chase. _Not_ a girlfriend. Without her, I'd still be that psycho-assassin. Still am, in all the ways that count. But now I have free will. I can choose _not_ to kill." To his relief, Chase accepted his words without asking for details. "I've remembered almost everything."

"Want me to fill in the gaps? Just the Cliff Notes."

For some reason, Justin was hesitant to know the identity of the woman he kept seeing in his dreams, and when his mind wandered. He held up a hand at shoulder height. "A woman with dark brown hair, greenish eyes, smiles all the time. I think she has a cat, a black one."

"That's Celeste. You call her Rey. R-e-y." Chase moved another couple of inches closer, making Justin wonder what he was up to. "You and Rey were a hot little item for several months before…"

~~O~~

Chase let his voice trail off, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. She's, uh, she's doing okay. Not seeing anyone at the moment. Still has Cleopatra, and is still living in the same condo. The studio's so busy, she's thinking of opening a second one."

His brother cocked his head to the side, thinking, mildly confused. "Who is Sean? I remember we were…"

"Shackin' up? Yeah. Broke up when Sean decided that his music career was more important than being with the man he supposedly loved." Justin still had that befuddled expression in his eyes. "Yes, that means you're gay."

"But Rey is a woman."

He couldn't help it. Chase laughed, not out loud. That would be stupid when hundreds of bad guys were out for your blood. "Right. You also adore breasts, and guys don't have them." Chase held his hands out to the side, palms up. "Welcome back to _your_ world, Justin."

Instead of the smartass retort he expected from his brother, Justin held a hand up for silence. He spun to one side of the door, and because he could now hear it, Chase did the same on the other side.

Barely breathing, Chase listened to the men and women talking as they crept past the stairwell door, recognizing the voice of the man who'd captured them during their fight with Justin. The one they called Rumlow. Anger boiled up inside him, and when he would've burst through the door with guns blazing, his twin stopped him with a small shake of his head. Justin signed _listen_.

 _The council's been breached. Black Widow's up there. Don't know what her plan is, but we gotta stop her. Her life is already forfeited. If she's injured Pierce, we'll make sure she dies slowly, and in a great deal of pain._

In his ear, Chase heard Hill's voice, " _Cap, Rumlow's headed for the council chambers. You copy?_ "

Steve responded immediately. " _Can't help. I'm solo on Bravo. Gotta take it down before they deploy the algorithm._ "

Knowing Steve would hear, Chase kept his voice super soft. "Chase to Cap. You handle Bravo. I'm on Rumlow." Even Justin smiled at Steve's response.

" _Chase, you sonofa*****! Where the hell are you?_ "

Pretending to be shocked, Chase quipped, "Whoa! You kiss my _sister_ with that mouth?" Not giving Steve a chance to answer, he continued, "Don't worry about me. I've recruited some help." Glancing at Justin questioningly, he got a short affirmative nod.

Justin's eyes widened as a sarcastic voice intruded. " _Have fun stormin' da castle!_ "

Chase wanted to tell Gramps to **** off, but the look on Justin's face was worth the restraint. At the sound of their grandfather's voice, Justin got the strangest look in his eyes. A moment later, he smiled and shook his head, signing, _He hasn't changed a bit, has he?_

 _Nope. Come on. I've got a score to settle with that a-hole, Rumlow_.

 _What happened?_

Scowling, Chase responded, _Sonofa**** was gonna kill me, Steve, Nat, and Sam. Needs to be taught that payback's a bitch._

~~O~~

The HUD in his goggles gave Sam a countdown of the distance to Mia before HYDRA realized she'd gotten away from the guards. He could see her heat signature moving. As he got closer, he found her climbing to a higher elevation to make the pick-up easier. She waved, and stretched her arms up high.

Flying in a random pattern, Sam dived into the bay, coming out of the loop just a few feet from Alpha's deck, close enough to see the rivets in the deck plates. His weapons went back into their holsters so he'd have both hands free, and reached out as he curved back into the air, catching Mia under the arms.

As soon they were out over the water, a couple of choppers headed for them, firing round after round from opposite directions.

 _Idiots_ , Sam thought as he used some fancy flying to fool them into shooting at each other. Their engines belched black smoke as the pilots lost control. One of the choppers managed to land on the wedge of grass between the Triskelion and the opening of the bay, while the other lost the battle with gravity and hit the water.

"That's some fancy flyin' there, Sam," Mia whispered directly into the ear without the headset.

"All part of the service, ma'am." His arms went around her waist, holding her in a hug that was more about not dropping her than being affectionate. "I've been thinkin'."

"'Bout what?"

The buckle of her belt pressed into his stomach, giving him ideas that were out of place. "When this is all over, and we've sent HYDRA runnin' away with its tail between its legs, we should celebrate."

She made a yummy sound causing her cheek and chest to vibrate where they touched. "Sounds intriguing. Who all would be at this wingding?"

"Hmm. Let's see. There would be you…"

"Of course."

"…and me."

Sam felt her smile where their cheeks touched, and at the same time, one finger lightly brushed up and down the back of his neck. "That goes without saying. Anyone else?"

Pretending to think it over, he came around the side of the Triskelion, scanning the horizon for a safe place to set her down so he could get back to the fight. "That's it. Just you and me. I like my celebrations cozy."

"O-oh. You read my mind, Sam." Mia's voice had changed to a husky whisper, telling him that their attraction was mutual, and not just a figment of his imagination. "What venue did you have in mind for this intimate little soirée?"

"Can't go back to my place. Not right away. Any suggestions?" Seeing an open field a half klick from the river, Sam headed in that direction. Mia would be safely out of the combat zone there. She started to slip, and Sam tightened his arms. "Whoa! Don't let go."

"I won't," she whispered in his ear, the bantering tone gone. "My place. The press won't be able to find us there." Staying low to the treetops, he angled down, landing near the tree line, and setting Mia away from him. She frowned at him. "What're you doing?"

He pushed the goggles up on his forehead, not looking at her as he adjusted the fit of his fingerless gloves. "I gotta get back to the fight, and _you_ gotta get back to your family."

Turning away, Sam replaced the goggles, fitting them snuggly over his eyes. But Mia wasn't done with the discussion.

Her hand came down on his shoulder, spinning him around. Sam kept forgetting about those super-soldier genes of hers. "Like _hell_ , Sam! Steve needs my help. If we don't stop that ship, a lot of people will die. I can zap their systems, make the targeting programs go bonkers. They'll end up shooting themselves in the ass. You gotta take me back!"

Looking into Mia's eyes, and silently praying for patience, Sam said one word. "No."

She gritted her teeth, and he could see what it took to keep her temper in check. "I'm not doing this out of some misplaced sense of my own importance in the grand scheme, Sam. I think we can both agree that plan A was a failure of greater than _epic_ proportions. Steve needs back-up in case plan B bites it too. No offense, but in close quarters, all _you_ can do is fight and shoot. _I_ can fight, shoot, _and_ electrocute the ******* _s***_ out of 'em."

Knowing he was beat, Sam gave in without another word. He put his arms around Mia, and waited for her to grab on as well. "Fine. But if this doesn't work, _my_ ass is grass, and the Barnes family will be the lawn mowers."

"It will."

"It better. You agreed to a date, and I'm holding you to it."

Taking a stealthy approach to Bravo, Sam came in low, landing lightly on the deck. Mia stepped out of his embrace, and turned in the direction of the hatch. She took two steps, stopped, and came back. She grabbed the wingpack's harness, and pulled him into a kiss. When they parted, she winked, and grinned. "For luck."

 **TBC**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 52**

 **Insight Command Center**

"Alpha and Charlie are grounded," Hill informed Steve. "What's up with Bravo?"

Cameron winced at the sound of fighting, interspersed with the crackle of electricity.

" _Workin' on it! What's the word on Chase? Anyone seen him?_ "

Hill shrugged a question at Cameron. For a response, he rolled over to another monitor, and called up the security cameras inside the Triskelion. He tabbed through each floor, finding nothing until he reached forty-one. "Cap, this is Cameron. Rumlow and his goons are on forty-one, southwest corner, headed up. We should warn Agent Romanoff."

" _She's on radio silence. But don't worry. She has help._ "

Rolling her chair over next to him, Hill watched over his shoulder. She pointed to the lower right as two figures approximately the same height crept out of the stairwell. Both were armed, and ready for a fight. The men took up aggressive stances side by side, as Rumlow and his people did the same. There was no audio, but they could see that both men were dressed oddly.

Cameron gave Hill a glance, and she shrugged a response. The two groups faced off, each waiting for the other to make the first move. One of the guys with Rumlow got impatient. He aimed at their opponents, firing several rounds.

He and Hill stared at the screen, astonished when the two men jumped high into the air, spinning like circus acrobats, all shots missing. As they twisted and turned, they brought out their weapons, aiming as they landed back several feet, taking out all but Rumlow who dived behind a desk for protection.

Bravo's weapons tech came over the feed. _Satellites will be in range at three thousand feet, sir. But without Alpha and Charlie, we'll only be able to take out a third of the targets_.

Pierce's unmistakable voice responded, _That will be sufficient to make our statement to the world. Deploy the algorithm as planned_.

 _Yes, sir_.

Not waiting for Hill to issue the order, Cameron activated his headset. "Cap, you might want to step up your game plan. Pierce just gave the order to fire when they reach three thousand feet."

" _Roger that. I'm on it._ "

 **Council Chambers**

Natasha retrieved the weapons, kept one for herself, and gave one to Councilman Rockwell. Hawley and Rockwell would keep an eye on their prisoners while she got to work. She laid her weapon within easy reach. Using the codes Fury provided, she accessed the security protocols, and set about setting them up to be disabled.

Rockwell moved closer. "What are you doing?"

Pierce, with his hands in the air, calmly uttered the devastating news. "She's disabling the security protocols, and dumping all the secrets onto the Internet."

"Including HYDRA's."

"And SHIELD's. If you do this, none of your past is going to remain hidden." Natasha kept typing without missing a beat. Pierce took a deep breath, preparing to offer an argument in favor of not continuing her current course of action. "Are you sure you're ready for the world to see you as you really are?"

One side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. If he thought he could stop her by bringing up the obvious, he was mistaken. "Are _you_?"

What no one knew, and she wasn't about to offer up the information, was that Jarvis would be adding so many layers of encryption that it would take even someone of Tony Stark's genius _years_ to decipher the trillions upon trillions of bytes of information she was putting out there for all to see.

From the corner of her eye, Natasha could see the wheels turning in Pierce's head as he came up with yet another stop-gap, or so he thought.

"Disabling the encryption is an executive order. It takes two Alpha level members."

Hawley stepped forward. "That would be me, Alexander. You've been so busy planning a coup you have no idea what's really going on. All you see is what _you_ want, and anything more is irrelevant."

"The enemies of HYDRA are _your_ enemies, Elizabeth. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago."

Mentally shaking her head, Natasha mused that Pierce just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. He was giving them HYDRA's future plans, and didn't realize it.

"Diplomacy? A holding action, a Band-Aid. I learned that in Bogota. Fury didn't ask, he just did what had to be done." Pierce shifted his feet. "I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing a few million. It's the next step, if you have the courage to take it."

Councilman Singh moved in front of Pierce, and for a moment, it looked like he would grab the councilman by the throat. Then, he backed off a step. "No. We have the courage _not_ to, Alex."

Singh nodded to Hawley. She gestured with the gun, and Pierce moved over to the retinal scanner with Natasha aiming her weapon at his head.

" _Retinal scanner active_ ," the SHIELD computer informed them.

Pierce and Hawley looked into the scanner. Light flashed as the computer read their retinal patterns. Rockwell motioned, and Pierce moved away.

"Done." Natasha's mobile device beeped, and she smiled. "And it's trending."

~~O~~

Pierce watched out the window as the Potomac flooded the hangar bay, shaking his head. In the midst of the flooding, Bravo lifted into the air, turning to align itself with the satellites that would deploy the algorithm. "What a waste."

Hawley came around where he could see her. "You're not still on the fence about Captain Rogers' chances, are you?" As expected, Pierce didn't respond.

The sound of the lift running diverted Hawley's attention just long enough for Pierce to wrest the gun from her hand, and knock her to the floor. He aimed for her heart, smugness turning his handsome features into a grotesque mask.

If he expected her to beg for her life, the man she once called a friend would be waiting for a long time. Hawley used her hands to push herself upright, determined to meet her fate head-on.

~~O~~

Rockwell's weapon came up, and Sitwell saw his chances for revenge about to be taken from him. It was true, he hadn't been a field agent for several years, but you never forgot your training.

Sitwell pushed Rockwell's gun hand down, and slammed him aside with an elbow to the face, sending him stumbling into Singh. The two men fell to the floor, distracting Natasha long enough for him to snatch up a weapon, and cross the council chambers to stand in front of Pierce. He chambered a round, and aimed the weapon at his former leader. Pierce held his gaze without blinking.

Bringing a hand to his right temple, Sitwell disabled the mesh mask and removed it, watching with glee, the look in Pierce's eyes as his identity was revealed. "Surprised to see me, _Alexander_? You should be, because you tried to have me killed. It was a good attempt, but you chose the wrong man to eliminate."

Neither man noticed that Hawley rolled from between them, and got to her feet, another weapon in her right hand.

"Really? Because from here, it looks like I was right. You betrayed HYDRA, and we don't take prisoners."

A small smile played on Sitwell's lips. "I know."

Before anyone could stop him, he shot Pierce three times in the chest. Pierce's gun hand wavered, blood poured from between his lips, and the wounds in his chest. His knees bent, and he fell to the floor. Through bloody lips, he was able to utter only two words before dying. "Hail, HYDRA."

Singh and Rockwell disarmed Sitwell, forcing him to sit with his back against the windows where they could keep an eye on him.

 **Chase, Justin** **and Rumlow**

 **Triskelion**

The two groups faced off, each waiting for the other to make the first move. One of Rumlow's men switched to rapid fire, moving the weapon side to side to take them both out. What he didn't take into account was that one of the men facing them was the Asset, and the other was his twin.

As if they'd practiced the move, Chase and Justin jumped high, twisting and turning so that all shots missed. As he came back down, Chase brought out his weapons, assuming that Justin would do the same.

As they landed, the brothers took out all but the leader, who dived out of the way. _Typical HYDRA_ , Chase mused to himself, remembering stories that Gramps and Steve told about fighting the Red Skull in WWII. _Run away, and let someone else take the heat_.

Rumlow was obviously hoping his team would take out their opponents, though he had no way of knowing they were brothers, let alone twins. Or did he? Chase wasn't so sure now.

Justin really looked at his brother's clothing for the first time. "Why are you dressed like the Dread Pirate Roberts?"

Rolling his eyes, Chase made a universal sign that needed no translation, and turned his attention to the fight.

Shaking his head at Chase, Justin motioned for them to separate, to catch Rumlow between them in a pincher movement. Chase smiled ruefully. "As you wish."

As they got close, Justin held up his hand, pointing to Rumlow's hiding place. Seconds before they would've taken him out, Rumlow jumped on top of the desk. He'd divested himself of his Kevlar vest, and had an almost feral gleam in his eyes. "You're out of your depth. HYDRA doesn't take prisoners. Order is all we want, and order only comes through pain. You ready for yours?"

Chase tossed the AR-15 aside, and exchanged a glance with Justin. "Go save your friend. I got this, big brother."

Justin hesitated, and Rumlow laughed. "Friend? Brother? You're the _Asset_. That's all you'll ever be. Get to Bravo. Stop Rogers."

~~O~~

Letting his features go slack, Justin let Rumlow believe that he would obey the order. He turned away from Chase, and in that last moment, when their eyes met, he winked. In response, Chase engaged Rumlow in a fight that surely wouldn't go the HYDRA agent's way.

Chase pummeled Rumlow, and the favor was returned, while Justin marveled at his brother's ability to fight, something he hadn't the expertise for prior to Justin's supposed death, and rebirth as the Asset.

An upper cut sent Rumlow stumbling backward, nearly tripping over a hump in the carpet. It didn't slow him down, as Chase rushed a tackle that sent both men into a huge potted plant that had no place in an office.

Out of sight of the combatants, Justin cocked his head to the side, listening. In the distance, he heard explosions, and the screech of metal coming closer to the building. Chase saw him coming back, and maneuvered Rumlow in that direction, his eyes widening at seeing the helicarrier coming toward the building. "Oh, s***!"

Chase punched Rumlow, knocking him to the floor, and together the brothers ran away from their opponent, who was grinning like a clown, obviously believing he'd scared them away. And that was his mistake, not thinking. If he had, the HYDRA agent would've realized that fear had been programmed out of the Asset, and running away was a self-preservation move, not one of desperation.

By the time Rumlow realized what was going on, the helicarrier had hit the Triskelion, shaking the walls, floors, and everything else as it crumpled like a tin can under a boot heel.

 **Bravo**

 **Mia and Steve**

Growling with frustration, Mia flopped into the nearest chair, proper her elbow on the console, and dropped her head into it. A bottle of water came into her sight, and she gratefully took it. She drank down most of the contents, and replaced the cap. "I'm sorry, Steve. I just can't generate a field strong enough to take them all out at once."

"I know you're exhausted, but we need to move on before HYDRA's goons show up." He held out his hand, and she took it, leading her to the door, his head turned to listen for enemies approaching their location.

He opened the door, and stuck his head out, motioning for Mia to follow. At one point in their quest to complete plan B 2.0, better known as plan C, they'd gotten into a skirmish with a squad. They took them out, removed their weapons, and communicators, and locked them in a closet.

Keeping her voice low, Mia whispered, "There's another access on the starboard side, amidships, level six."

"Then that's where we're headed." What she was thinking had to show on her face. That or Steve was especially good at reading other people's moods. "We'll figure it out, Mia."

Steve used the shield to let them into the room that had access to several servers. Mia took off her backpack, and wandered around the room, looking for the best place to begin. "If I take out the targeting computers…"

"We tried that. They rerouted." He led her to a chair. She sat down, and Steve crouched in front of her. "Clear your mind. Think about creating the biggest electrical field you've ever made, and using it to shut down their main systems so fast, they won't have time to reroute."

Mia turned toward the window that faced the Triskelion, watching the clouds, and using their falsely calm appearance to ease her mind. Movement inside the building caught her attention, and when she looked closer, she saw her cousin, Chase, fighting with that beefed-up Neanderthal who'd nearly killed Steve, Sam, Chase and Natasha.

Another form moved within her field of vision, and Mia could swear that it looked like Justin. But if Chase had found his twin, wouldn't he have mentioned it? Giving herself a mental slap, she realized he did tell them about Justin when said he had help dealing with Rumlow.

Closing her eyes, Mia breathed deeply. If her cousins could do this, so could she. She opened her eyes, raised her arms to shoulder height as she turned toward the servers, forming an electrical field between her hands. Moving her arms away from her body enlarged the field.

Again, Mia closed her eyes, concentrating on strengthening the charge. And when she felt ready, she flung the field at the servers, stumbling backward to avoid the sparks that erupted from all but the last two. "Dammit!"

"Just fry them, and we're done."

Mia tried several times, with no success. "Sorry, Steve. I gotta build up another charge. Takes a few minutes."

Steve wandered over to the window, inhaling sharply. _He can see Justin and Chase fighting with that SOB, Rumlow. Probably wishes he could be in two places at once_.

Through the deck, Mia felt vibrations spring up, and the helicarrier tilted to starboard. _Maybe I did do some damage after all_ , she thought. Her eyes met Steve's, showing that they had the same thought.

The vibrations increased, knocking Mia sideways at the helicarrier's impact with the Triskelion. Consoles sparked, ceiling tiles fell, and the floor buckled, throwing them toward the window. Mia hit face first, bending her elbows to absorb the energy of the impact.

Angry that she and Steve hadn't gotten off the ship before it crashed, Mia stepped back, the heels of her boots giving her more traction than she thought when she first put them on.

The shaking slowed, and the helicarrier began to pull away from the Triskelion, leaving the elegant building in ruins. Without the ship jammed into it, the side nearest them continued to crumble at an alarming rate.

Inside, she saw her cousins running from the destruction. Her mouth dropped open when they crashed through the window at the far end. Chase had his arms around Justin's neck as his brother's metal arm clamped onto the skid of a passing chopper.

Relieved, Mia was able to give more energy to building up another charge, determined to stop the helicarrier at all costs.

Over the PA, she heard a voice emotionlessly planning the deaths of millions.

" _We're not going any higher, sir. We'll have to make it work from here._ " The man was obviously a weapons tech. " _Satellite coming online now_."

The next voice was even more devoid of emotion than the first, if that were possible.

" _Deploy the algorithm. With only one ship, we won't be able to take out all the intended targets. No more than seven million. But it will be enough to make HYDRA's intentions clear to the world._ "

" _Algorithm deployed. We are go to targets, sir._ "

Another tech's voice joined the first two. " _Target saturation reached. All targets assigned._ "

The second voice, the one Mia thought of as the Captain, calmly gave the order. " _Fire when ready_."

The electronic sounds of the computer reached Mia and Steve, spurring her to an even greater effort than before.

" _Firing in three… two… one…_ "

 **Triskelion**

 **Chase and Justin**

Running for their lives, Chase and Justin headed for the opposite side of the forty-first floor. What they'd do when they got there, well, Chase hoped that his brother, the super-soldier, had a plan.

Justin slowed down, and Chase stopped to watch him take a grenade from his pants pocket, and throw it into the crumbling mass that used to be the helicarrier. He caught up, and together, they ran full out toward the window. "Justin…"

"Do you trust me?"

His brother nodded. "Remember the song Mom used to sing to us when we wouldn't go down for a nap?"

Not getting the change of subject, Justin said, " _Stand by Me_."

"I'll always stand by you." For the first time in more than two years, Chase heard his brother's voice singing.

 _If the sky that we look upon_ _  
_ _Should tumble and fall_ _  
_ _Or the mountain should crumble to the sea_ _  
_ _I won't cry, I won't cry_ _  
_ _No, I won't shed a tear_ _  
_ _Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

Chase gave a passing thought to joining in, but wasn't given the chance. As the last line ended, Justin grabbed him around the waist, ducked his head, and brought up his left arm. The twins crashed through the window, and fell out into space.

 **Bravo**

 **Mia and Steve**

Mia saw Justin and Chase falling. The thought that she would lose her beloved cousins in such an awful way after all they'd been through angered and frightened her. "NO!"

She generated an enormous field, that pushed outward, encompassing the entire helicarrier, expanding at an as yet unseen rate. Anything run by electricity sparked, popped, and went dark. The field continued on, shutting down what was left of the power in the helicarrier, the Triskelion, and the surrounding area for a mile in all directions.

 **Triskelion**

 **Hill and Cameron**

On the monitors, Cameron watched with horrid fascination as the helicarrier swung around in the sky, as if the bridge techs had no control. His state of inertia was broken when he realized that it was coming toward the Triskelion. "Commander, we gotta go!"

"We can't. Steve and his team still need our help."

Cameron got to his feet, knocking his chair over, and stumbling back a step. He looked from the helicarrier getting bigger the closer it got, to Hill, who seemed oblivious to the fact that they were going to die. "Commander…"

"Just _go_ , Klein!"

On the monitor, Bravo's CO looked confused, and angry. " _Where are the targets?_ _Where_ _are the targets?!_ "

For less than a millisecond, he considered doing just that, but then he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if Hill died and he could've prevented it. Tapping into that well of courage that had lain stagnating inside him until recently, Cameron did something he vowed never to do when it came to one of his superiors: he disobeyed a direct order.

Pushing the chairs out of the way, Cameron grabbed Hill's left wrist. He pulled her up at the same time bending at the knees and waist, and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her indignant, "What the _hell_ , Klein? Put me down, or you're fir-rr…"

Hill's voice trailed off when she saw why he insisted they leave _now!_

Heading down the stairs, Cameron reached the fifth landing before Hill spoke again. "I can walk, you know." He put her down, pressing himself against her, covering his head with his arm for protection as the building shook, raining plaster, glass and pieces of metal down on them. It stopped for the moment, and he leaned back to see if Hill was okay. Their eyes met, and something passed between them. Cameron wasn't sure what to call it. Understanding, a sudden flash of attraction that hadn't been there before, or agreement that they were lucky to be alive. He wasn't sure.

The shaking started anew, worse than before, and all the lights went out. Cameron grabbed Hill's hand, and ran down the stairs. Having worked in the Triskelion for several years, he knew all the shortcuts. Five levels down, he let go of Hill so they could wrench the door open. She didn't question him, as he led the way through the crumbling floor to another set of stairs that were relatively intact after the impact.

Cameron opened the door, ushered Hill through, and followed her a hallway that went to yet another set of stairs, getting out at level twenty. He put out his hand, and Hill automatically took it, trusting him to lead her to safety.

When they finally reached ground level, they burst out the side door, and kept running until they were far enough away to escape harm. They hadn't run into anyone on the way, or Cameron would've stopped to help them as well.

Relived to be alive, Cameron and Hill hugged each other tight.

 **Frankie and Sharon**

Physically and emotionally battered, Sharon used the railing to pull herself up in time to block Frankie's punch to her head. She fell to one knee, using the other leg to kick Frankie in the knee. Frankie fell backward, and Sharon jumped on top of her, the women grappling, and rolling side to side as much as the catwalk would allow. Frankie got a knee between them, and pushed Sharon off.

She landed on both feet, a surprise in itself, considering the beating she'd taken so far. Both eyes would be black by the end of the day, her upper lip was split, and the tooth it covered chipped. There would be bruises, scrapes, cuts, and who knew what else, maybe even a concussion when she finally made it to the hospital. Frankie wasn't much better off. Blood was beginning to dry on the deep cut on the inner part of her left forearm. She'd cut it on a projection near the computer housing at the end of the catwalk. Both women's clothes were torn and bloody.

Sharon knew this had to end, and soon, or she'd be too tired to defend herself. Rallying all her strength, she took a page from her beloved Washington Redskins, ducking her head, and rushing at Frankie, hitting her in the solar plexus with her shoulder.

Instead of falling, Frankie let herself be pushed backward until they were near the end of the catwalk. Sharon was working out a new strategy when the helicarrier hit the Triskelion, shaking everything, issuing a deafening groan as metal, glass, and plastic were ripped to pieces.

They grabbed opposite railings for support. Sharon nearly toppled over the side, saved by Frankie grabbing the back of her Kevlar vest. She didn't get a chance to thank her ex-girlfriend before the shaking got worse, throwing them side to side. Sharon hit the upper railing with enough force to injure a rib, maybe two. "Aaaahhh!"

"Shar! You alright?"

Shaking her head, Sharon pushed herself upright as far as she could, one hand on her ribs.

Debris fell from above, crashing into the computer controls, causing sparks, and smoke to belch into the air. More debris fell, and the fight between her and Frankie was forgotten in light of the new danger.

Sharon felt a pair of familiar strong arms wrap around her shoulders, turning to lead her back inside so they could escape. An explosion above them shook the catwalk, making them stumble. Sharon cried out when she bumped her sore ribs, and Frankie's arms tightened fractionally to let her know she was safe.

As they neared the exit, ominous creaking, and tearing of metal came from above. They looked up just as a huge piece of equipment broke loose, and crashed into the catwalk. Frankie's arms fell away, and for the first time since they'd known each other, Sharon heard her scream in terror as she tumbled over the railing.

 **TBC**

 _Stand by Me_ is a song originally performed by American singer-songwriter Ben E. King, written by King, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, and was released in 1961.


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 53**

 **Triskelion**

 **Justin and Chase**

" _The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution_."

Dumbledore's line from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ echoed in Chase's head as the wind pushed the hair out of his face. He told Justin the truth, that he would always be by his side no matter what. Chase just didn't know it meant the brothers would be falling to their deaths from the forty-first floor of a building that their sister's fiancé had just crashed an airship the size of an aircraft carrier into while stopping a Nazi terrorist organization from killing twenty million people and taking over the world.

A quote from another classic work of fiction popped into his Chase's head. He clamped his teeth together to keep from saying it out loud.

 _So, this it. We're going to die_.

Arthur Dent had a way of getting straight to the heart of the matter, yet for some reason, Ford Prefect didn't appreciate his candidness and sarcasm posing as pithy comments. Pity.

As one does in these sorts of situations, Chase relived moments of his life. He ran down his bucket list, realizing that he hadn't ticked off nearly as many items as he hoped. _I really gotta get a life_.

Chase's morbid thoughts jerked to a halt at the abrupt end to his and Justin's fall from grace, as it were. He opened his eyes, and found that Justin had grabbed onto the skid of a passing chopper. Relieved, he shouted, "Wow! Lucky break. How d'you know the chopper was coming?"

The pilot tilted the craft side to side in an effort to break Justin's hold, and finish what gravity had started. Justin snorted. "I didn't! Count to ten, and hold your breath!"

"What…"

The chopper angled upward, taking them higher. When they were over the Potomac, Justin let go. Belatedly, Chase inhaled, and seconds later, they hit the water. The impact knocked Chase around enough to disorient him, and separate the brothers.

Chase's consciousness wavered as he sank beneath the waves caused by their fall, the downdraft of the chopper, and debris. He saw a vague shape above him that looked, to his addled mind, like a dark angel come to drag him to hell for all the sins he'd committed in his lifetime.

Then the angel turned into Ford Prefect, telling him not to panic, that life on Earth was mostly harmless.

 _Don't_ _panic_ _? Why the hell not, for **** sake? My twin is a psycho-assassin, we just helped Captain America destroy_ _billions_ _in government and private funding, laid waste to the country's economy, its intelligence community,_ _and_ _its reputation, a bunch of people are dead, and my_ _grandfather_ _has a hotter girlfriend than I do._ _I've gone way beyond afraid. Right now, I'm somewhere between bedwetting and a near death experience. What else is there_ _but_ _panic?_

~~O~~

Sam could see the chopper trying to shake Chase loose and… _wait, is that the assassin who tried to_ _kill_ _us? Damn!_

The Falcon flew toward the chopper, dipping and looping to avoid their weapon's fire, and save the men hanging from the skid at the same time.

Then, quite deliberately, Justin let go, and they fell into the river. Sam shot at the chopper, and it took off. "Dammit!"

He returned to where he'd seen the brothers go under, circling the area until he was certain they weren't coming back up. "S***!"

 **Bucky**

By listening, and keeping his mouth shut as he made his way out of the Triskelion, Bucky knew that Natasha and that creep Sitwell were still on the top floor in the council chambers. The lifts wouldn't be running, and most of the stairwells would be impassable.

Looking up at the roof, he spotted just the thing. And he knew where to get what he needed to mount a rescue. All he needed was a ride. The parking lot was nearly empty except for a few cars, and one sweet little motorcycle.

Tucking the AR-15 into the back of his pants, Bucky pulled his shirt down over it as he jogged across the lot. It only took him a few minutes to hot wire the bike, kick start it, and take off.

Using the back roads, he made his way through town to the place he called the Bat Cave. The man with the eye patch, Fury, wasn't in any shape to help with the fight. He should still be there.

 **Council Chambers**

Above the sound of the fighting and the Triskelion falling apart, Natasha heard something else, something familiar. She went to the window, grinning as a chopper landed on the helipad. "Company's coming," she informed her companions. "Time to go."

Hawley, Singh, and Rockwell didn't waste time getting to the chopper. That left Natasha, Rollins, and Sitwell. She knelt next to Rollins, and wrapped her hand around the handle of the knife. "This is gonna hurt, Asa."

"Just _do_ it!"

Natasha pulled the knife out of his thigh, and tossed it aside. Rollins bit his lip to keep from screaming as the building shook harder. Plaster and light fixtures dropped from the ceiling while she used a belt taken from one of the dead soldiers as a tourniquet. "Sitwell! Help me get him out of here!"

"You've got to be kidding! He tried to _kill_ me." Sitwell ran to the door leading to the helipad, coming up short when Bucky stepped in front of him.

"The lady gave you an order, _pal_."

Sitwell pushed his glasses back up his nose. "And who the hell are _you_ to tell _me_ what to do? You're no one. Just a washed up former General reduced to working in a museum to make yourself feel important again. Well, I got news for you, Barnes. No one _cares_ about you anymore. You and Rogers are men out of time. Relics of an era long gone. Why don't you go f-"

"That word is inappropriate in mixed company, pal." Bucky stepped over Sitwell's unconscious body, and picked Rollins up with little effort. With the man's arm around his shoulders, he smiled down at Natasha.

She wanted to kiss him so badly right then, she could barely hold it in. Instead, she opened the door to the helipad so he could put Rollins in the chopper, and she followed. Once Rollins was safely in the rear of the chopper, Bucky helped her in. He was about to climb in himself, waiting for the others to make room, and stopped. "Dammit. I'll be right back."

And just as she knew he would, Bucky went back to the council chambers, flipped Sitwell over his shoulder, and returned. He lay the traitor on the floor, climbed in, and shut the door. "Hit it, Nick!"

Looking over her shoulder, Natasha confirmed what she'd suspected: Fury was the pilot. Even with one arm in a sling, he was still a match for any other experienced pilot on the planet.

"We'll drop Rollins and Sitwell off at the hospital, and head back to…"

"The Bat Cave?" Bucky quipped.

Fury shook his head, and went back to flying. Natasha reached out, and Bucky took hold of her hand. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"We do. But let's not do this again." Turning her attention to Hawley, Natasha gave her a nod. "Thanks for your help, Elizabeth. We couldn't have done this without you and Councilman Yen."

Hawley gave her a look of reproof that had an element of humor in it. "I don't believe that for a moment, Natasha. However, it's a good thing I never mentioned my stint with MI6 to Pierce, or he might've had me eliminated years ago." Her eyebrows drew together in thought. "Someone else tried a few years back. Pity it didn't work. For Pierce's sake, I mean." She tapped Sitwell with the toe of her shoe, but he didn't move.

"Lucky for us it didn't, Councilwoman," Bucky said with a grateful smile.

"Aren't you sweet, General Barnes? Please, call me Elizabeth."

Natasha brushed her fingers through the hair at his temp. "Yes, he is."

Rollins interrupted the tender moment by snorting with disdain. "Will you two give it a rest? It's like some sappy romantic drama-Ow! Aaaahhh! Stop! Stop!"

The HYDRA soldier writhed in pain due to Hawley gripping his thigh near the knife wound. "Young man, I could just as easily have killed you. Don't make me regret letting you live." Rollins panted hard, nodding his agreement, and she finally let go. Turning back to Natasha, she smiled. "Natasha, my dear, you and James must come and visit my family and I in Alderley Edge. My husband is a great WWII aficionado, and would love to meet a member of the legendary Howling Commandoes. And while the men are talking war, you and I will talk MI6 and SHIELD."

"We'd love to, Elizabeth." She would've said more, but the engine sounds changed signaling that they were coming in for a landing.

From the front, Fury called out, "This is where Rollins gets out. Sitwell too. Armed escorts are waiting."

The chopper landed on the ground-level helipad. Bucky opened the door, and jumped out. He picked up Sitwell, carried him to the grass, and set him down for the police to take care of, and came back for Rollins, who didn't move. "Come on, pal. This is your stop." The man still didn't move. "Don't make me come after you."

With that threat hanging in the air, Rollins decided he was better off moving on his own. Bucky helped him down, and over to a medical team patiently waiting. Halfway back, he stopped to look up into the air, one hand shading his eyes.

"What is it?" Natasha asked as he reclaimed his seat.

"I, uh, thought I just saw a giant bird fly over carrying a blonde mouse."

Unconcerned, Natasha crossed her legs at the knees as Fury took off again. "Oh, that's just Sam."

 **Mia and Steve**

The force of Mia's discharge even made Steve stumble back a step. And when she faced him again, sparks still danced around her finger tips, and along her exposed skin. Her breaths were coming fast and hard. Taking her by the shoulders, he led her to a chair, but she wouldn't sit.

Movement out the window caught his eye. "Mia! Look!"

The young woman turned her head, and soon, the electrical field was gone. She calmed down when she saw that her cousins were hanging from a chopper. As it angled out over the water, they let go, and even she knew that they were tough enough to withstand the fall.

Mia collapsed against Steve. He put her in the chair and got down on one knee, touching her on the cheek. "You okay?"

"Uh… yeah, I think so. What happened?"

"I'm no expert, but it seems like your power is connected to your emotions. When you thought Chase and Justin were going to die, your mind send out a huge electrical burst." He nodded. "It fried all the servers. And from what I could see, you also took out the rest of the helicarrier, all of the Triskelion, and maybe even some of the surrounding area."

Her mouth dropped open, and closed again. "Wow. Guess I don't know my own strength. Never done anything even close to that before. Zapping Gramps and some of the servers today are the biggest things I've done so far."

"Maybe with training, you'll be able to do it again, if the need should arise." Steve pulled her to next to him. "We have to go before…"

" _Steve!_ "

He hadn't heard Kate's voice in quite a while, and had thought she'd probably escaped. Apparently not. "Kate? What's wrong?"

" _Hurry! I'm-I'm at the control tower, the one you sent me to sabotage_."

To Mia, Steve said, "Get topside. Signal Sam to come get you, if there's no other way off." At her stubborn glare, he stuck a finger in the air. "No arguments! Go!" Into his headset, he said, "On my way."

For once, one of the Barnes family actually listened to him. At the next junction, she headed for the stairwell up, and Steve took off running through the center of the ship until he came to the hallway that fed to the control tower where he'd sent Kate.

 **Sharon and Frankie**

Frankie's scream abruptly cut off, and Sharon opened her eyes to see her dangling from a stanchion under the catwalk. Her weapon had fallen. She could see it far below on the clear canopy surrounding the room.

Heedless of her own injury, Sharon fell to her knees, and reached out. "Hold on, Frankie! Take my hand!"

Holding on with her left hand, Frankie looked down, and back up. "I can't. Broke my arm. It won't move."

Steve arrived within moments of her call. He handed her the shield, and motioned her out of the way. He lay on his stomach, reaching down to catch hold of Frankie's wrist just as her grip on the stanchion slipped. "I've got you."

"Frankie. Her name's Frankie."

The helicarrier groaned, the sound of metal being bent by great forces. Explosions shook the catwalk, knocking Sharon down, and causing their foundation to tilt to the opposite side.

Suddenly, smoke belched from the tower at the end of the catwalk. An explosion followed that knocked the end of the catwalk loose from its moorings near the exit, the weight of it bend the metal and nearly causing Steve to lose his grip on the woman's wrist.

He glanced at Sharon, and she shrugged sheepishly as she came out from under the shield. She ducked when another explosion, this one bigger than the last, shaking the entire ship. All three held their breaths to see what would happen.

The ship's bow angled down, the weight of it pulling the ship free from where it had jammed into the Triskelion. It slipped, and stopped, slipped and stopped, over and over.

~~O~~

"Time to go!" Steve hooked the toes of his boots over the other side of the catwalk so he could use both hands to pull Frankie up. Her head was just clearing the edge of the walkway when the tower broke loose from its moorings, and collapsed into itself, the heavier upper half falling toward them.

Frankie looked up, he brown eyes going wide. "Oh, God!"

A support beam broke loose, landing on the no-doubt bullet proof windows. Thankfully, it didn't hit anything on the way down, but the impact rattled the tower, and it titled at more than a fifty-degree angle. It wouldn't take much more to make it fall, and they had to be gone before that happened.

"Almost there, Frankie." Again, the catwalk shook, this time side to side as the ship listed to starboard, and kept going. Steve lost his grip, and Frankie fell, landing some sixty feet below.

Kate leaned over the railing, the shield still in her left hand. "Frankie!"

She lifted her head, and moved her legs. "I'm okay, Shar. Just get me outa here."

Steve felt relief that nothing more had been broken as he got to his feet, working out a way to get down there to her without causing more problems. Nothing. He'd have to jump. Kate grabbed his arm. He patted the hand, and motioned for her to go stand by the exit. Once she'd complied, he carefully bent the railing out of the way. "Hold on."

The spot where four panes came together would be the strongest. But before he could jump, the precariously leaning tower lost its battle with gravity at the same time the ship lurch downward another few feet. It hit the catwalk, and as it fell, Steve launched himself through the air, catching the edge of the platform.

Over his shoulder, he could see that it was too late for Frankie. The enormous tower piece and the catwalk had both fallen right where she'd been lying, cracking the windows. Steve hoisted himself up just as the glass broke, sending it all falling the several hundred yards to the ground.

Metal groaned, and the ship lurched hard to the right and down. Steve took the shield, and hustled Kate through the halls until they came to a set of stairs that went up. Those that went down had been destroyed. Pushing her ahead of him, he urged her to go faster, and soon they were out on the slanting deck.

"Steve!"

He looked around and found Mia holding onto a landing gear, all that remained of a quinjet that had been knocked overboard by the collision.

Keeping the injured Kate between them, Steve hurried their group toward one of the few quinjets that hadn't been destroyed in the fight, or its aftermath. The hatch yielded to the edge of his shield. He grabbed the ramp and wrestled it down far enough for the trio to get inside.

~~O~~

Static crackled in Sam's ear, announcing an incoming transmission.

" _Steve to Sam. You copy?_ "

"Five by, Cap. You got a package for pick-up?"

In the background, Sam could hear voices. " _Two packages. That a problem?_ "

Sam grinned though Steve couldn't see it as he headed back to the crashed helicarrier. "Not for me. On my way. Rendezvous your location, ASAP."

" _Make it quick, Sam. Time is not on our side_."

"Roger. Puttin' the hammer down." Again, he heard voices, this time he could tell they were female. One had to be Mia, but who was the other one? No matter, as long as she was a friendly.

As he neared the relatively intact bow of the helicarrier where it stuck out the side of the Triskelion, three figures zig-zagged across the deck to avoid weapons fire. Steve was easy to pick out. Mia too. Especially in that outfit, and that blonde hair. They were helping another blonde who was barely able to walk.

He circled the area, swooping down to lob a couple of grenades into the command deck, sending the crew diving for cover. Planning out his strategy for picking up both women, Sam tapped the headset. "I'll have to pick 'em up one at a time, Cap. Wanna get the first one ready for transport?"

" _Roger, Sam. On your mark._ "

Steve used the shield open the rear of one of the few quinjets that managed to stay anchored to the deck. He ushered the women inside, and soon, they were standing on the craft's canopy. Ideally, Sam would land, have the women hold on, and take off again. But that left him, and them, too vulnerable. This would have to be a swoop and grab.

At his approach, Steve and Mia stepped back. Sam flew just a few feet above the craft's roof, and picked up the blonde the same way he'd done Mia previously. Her arms went around him, her face buried in his neck, holding on for dear life. Sam told Steve he could do this, and wouldn't let him down. No one was dying on his watch. "I'll be around for package number two in a couple minutes, Cap."

Using the zoom feature of his HUD, Sam spotted Hill and a guy with dark hair standing alone near the grove of trees surrounding the park where he'd tried to leave Mia. To the woman in his arms, he said, "I gotta put you down. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Go save Steve and his friend."

"Roger that." He maneuvered the woman around until she was in front of him. "See those two people? I'm gonna leave you with them."

Without speaking, she nodded. Sam landed, and set the woman free. She quickly limped in their direction, and he didn't wait to see if she would be okay. He got a running start, jumped on the hood, then the roof of a Hummer, and soared into the air.

As he came back around, Sam saw the ship lurch down and to the side. It was dangerously close to pulling away from the Triskelion, and falling forty-something floors. There were fires all over, sending black smoke into the air. The only implication of these events that Sam cared about was there would likely be no survivors.

Through the headset, he heard weapons fire. _Man, these guys never give up!_ "Cap, we need to expedite this pick-up."

" _I've got just the thing_." Voices spoke urgently, and Steve was back. " _Sam, this package is coming to you via airmail in ten… nine… eight…_ "

Sam did a double take. "Airmail?"

 **Steve, Mia, and Sam**

Back on the deck, Mia waited for Steve's signal, and when it came, she ran as fast as she could toward where he stood with his legs braced, and the shield held at an angle. Once he described what he wanted her to do, she remembered seeing this same stunt in one of the video clips from the invasion, and how cool it looked. Or would've been had they not been fighting aliens. No, it was still cool.

At the mark he'd given her, Mia leaped into the air, and landed on the shield. At the same time, she felt him pushing up with all of his might, launching her into the air. She reached the apex of the arc, and had started back down when Sam appeared out of nowhere, grabbed her around the waist, and angled back up into the sky.

 **The Shore of the Potomac River**

Holding onto Chase by the back of his vest, Justin dragged him onto the shore until he was fully out of the water, and lay him on his back. He wasn't breathing, and one wrist had been broken, though not badly. His skin had a blueish tint, and was cold to the touch, though that could be due to the temperature of the water.

Kneeling next to Chase, Justin slapped his cheeks to bring him around. When that didn't work, he got into position to start chest compressions. However, it turned out not to be necessary.

Chase coughed up water, and his eyes fluttered. Justin turned him onto his side, and slapped him on the back. More water, mixed with whatever he'd eaten that day, was expelled from his mouth. His brother moaned, and coughed up even more water.

Relieved that his twin would be okay, Justin got to his feet, turned, and walked into the woods.

 **TBC**

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."

― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

Arthur Philip Dent is a fictional character in the comic science fiction series _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ by Douglas Adams.

Arthur Dent is a hapless human who found himself thrown into wild adventures around the universe with his friend, Ford Prefect. Together, the men barely escape the Earth's destruction when it was demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass.

Ford Prefect (also called Ix) is a fictional character in _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ by Douglas Adams.

Ford is pragmatic to the point of fatalism, endlessly broad-minded – no doubt due to his vast experience of roughing it around the galaxy – and possessed of an off-key and often black sense of humor. He is described as being able to smile in a way that would "send hitherto sane men scampering into the trees".

 _Don't Panic_ is a phrase on the cover of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. The novel explains that this was partly because the device "looked insanely complicated" to operate, and partly to keep intergalactic travelers from panicking. "It is said that despite its many glaring (and occasionally fatal) inaccuracies, the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ itself has outsold the _Encyclopedia Galactica_ because it is slightly cheaper, and because it has the words 'DON'T PANIC' in large, friendly letters on the cover."

Arthur C. Clarke said Douglas Adams' use of "don't panic" was perhaps the best advice that could be given to humanity.


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 54**

 **Hill, Cam and Sharon**

Sharon had only taken a few steps when just that quickly, Cameron, the nitwit, hugged her. "Ow-ow-ow."

"Sorry, Shar. What happened?"

"Tried to help Captain Rogers. Got into a fight, and almost died. Then I was rescued by a man with wings."

Hill and Cameron helped her sit in the grass, her cousin fussing over her. "A fight? With whom?"

"Frankie." Averting her eyes, Sharon pushed her cousin's hands away, silently telling him to stop. "She's dead."

Kneeling in front of her, Hill's forehead creased with tension. "You're sure Torres is dead?"

Nodding made Sharon's head spin. She squeezed her eyes shut, and breathed deeply. "She couldn't have survived."

Anything more had to wait as paramedics came hustling through the grass, summoned, no doubt, by her overly protective cousin. She waved them away. "I'm fine." To prove it, she stood up.

Unfortunately, her ribs had other ideas. The pain made her dizzy. The paramedics were there to catch her before she fell, and help her lie on the stretcher. The woman gave her a look of reproof. "You're _not_ fine. Just lie still, and let us take care of you."

Cameron hovered nearby, and Sharon reached out to him while the woman put an IV in the back of her other hand. "Thanks, cousin."

His smile was worth more than anything. "I'll ride along, if that's okay."

Once she, Cameron, and the paramedic were inside the ambulance, Hill closed the doors. By the time they reached the hospital, Sharon was asleep.

 **Mia and Sam**

Soaring higher, and spinning to avoid the gunfire, Sam held tight to Mia while working out where to put her down. "Does Steve even know we don't have airmail anymore?"

Mia's warm breath hit the side of his neck in rapid puffs, and he could feel the vibrations of her laughter against his chest. "Or it was a joke, but I'm gonna go with no." She looked over her shoulder. "Put me down anywhere, Sam. Steve needs your help."

"Anywhere is a relative term. And I want you to be safe." Sam leaned back so he could see her face, one eyebrow inching upward. "Don't suppose I could get another kiss?"

Smirking, Mia tightened her hold on his neck. "Maybe. How about the park? It's close enough to the action, just in case. And if not, Nat, Gramps, and Chase will be able to find me there."

Turning serious, Sam shook his head. "It's only going to get worse from here, Mia. Got a way home?"

"Yeah, but if I go home without the others, I'll get grilled about where I've been. Though, I could go to Gramps and Nat's, and wait there." Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Chopper!"

Sam dipped down, and around in a small spin so he could see. "It's Fury. And he's got the council members and your family with him. What about the base?"

"The park is better, and closer. I can get anywhere else on my own."

Giving in, Sam swooped out of the chopper's way, waving to Fury and his passengers. Mia did the same, and once the chopper was out of sight, he headed for the park. It had just come in sight when his headset crackled.

" _Sam?_ "

"Here, Steve. What's your twenty?"

Loud, unidentifiable noises made Sam wince then Steve was back. " _Still on the helicarrier, and it's about to blow. Any chance of a ride?_ "

Mia nodded, and mouthed _go_. Sam acknowledged her with a nod. "On my way."

Sam angled toward the ground, but before he reached what he deemed a safe landing area, Mia kissed his cheek, and let go. Picturing her lying on the ground, broken and dying, his arms reached for her, and missed. Far below, he saw Mia land, and roll to disperse the energy of her fall. She got to her feet, looking up at him, grinning, with a hand shading her eyes.

He saluted her, and looped back toward the helicarrier. In his headset, he could hear Steve fighting the bad guys still on board. And though he knew his friend had it all under control, Sam returned the way he'd come, ready to rejoin the fighting.

As he circled around to the side of the Triskelion that faced the water, he saw a man dragging another onto shore, recognizing him as the Winter Soldier. The unconscious man had to be Chase, but Sam didn't have a way to call an ambulance for him. Chase was well out of the water, and relatively safe for the moment, so Sam put his energy into helping Steve.

 **The Shore of the Potomac River**

Rolling onto his back, Chase blinked until his vision cleared enough that he could see the blue sky and clouds above him. His head throbbed, and he found a lump on the back of his head, indicating he might have a concussion. He didn't worry. Justin wouldn't have left if he thought his twin was badly injured.

Sitting up, Chase shivered, and looked down at himself. His clothes were torn, one sleeve of his shirt had been split up to the elbow, and the belt was gone, leaving it hanging loose. He was soaked to the skin, and covered in mud. When he stood, the boots squished. He pushed both hands through his hair. That's when he noticed his left wrist was broken, and willed the pain away.

Across the bay, the fighting went on, though less than before. Some people just didn't know when they'd been defeated. They kept going until too tired, or their ranks were too decimated to continue. Which, in his mind, perfectly described HYDRA's minions.

Turning in a circle to get his bearings, Chase found footprints in the mud that lead away from where the shore. They had to be Justin's. He followed them through the brambles, dead trees, and weeds to the Roosevelt Bridge. That meant he was on Little Island. He crossed the stream that separated it from Roosevelt Island, and climbed one of the bridge supports up to the road. There was no traffic, so he wouldn't be getting a ride anytime soon as he tramped toward the Triskelion.

He hadn't made it to the Maryland side of the bridge yet when a familiar sound hovered above him. Chase looked up, watching with mild interest as a helicopter landed in the middle of the bridge.

The rear doors opened. His grandfather climbed out and ran to gather him in a warm hug. A second pair of smaller arms were there a moment later. He looked down into Natasha's worried eyes, and smiled, as if they'd run into each other at the mall. "Oh, hey. Cool ride. What you guys been up to?"

Natasha's small hands framed his face. "Chase, what happened? Why are you wet?"

He stepped back so he could look at himself. "Justin and I jumped out the window when the, uh," he snapped his fingers, the thing hit the building. We were…" his eyes glazed over, became unfocused, "um, we were… I swallowed a _lot_ of water, and hit my head on somethin' when we fell in the river."

~~O~~

Chase's eyes rolled back in his head, and Bucky caught him before he hit the ground. He hoisted his grandson over his shoulder, and head for the chopper with Natasha a few steps ahead. "He's in shock. We have to get him to a hospital."

"How're we going to do that? The National Guard and cops from the surrounding counties are swarming all over the area. We land at the hospital again, we'll be seen, and it'll be all over the Internet tomorrow." Bucky laid Chase on the floor in the rear, helped Natasha in, and took his seat again.

She picked up Chase's hand, pressing her fingers to his wrist. "He might have a concussion. Nick?"

"On it." The chopper tilted as Fury changed direction. Bucky didn't know what he had in mind, but it needed to happen soon.

 **At the Hospital**

The beeping of the monitor and the smell were the first things Sharon noticed when she awoke in the hospital. Someone had closed the shade, and turned out all but one light. Still, opening her eyes made them throb.

"On your left."

Carefully turning her head, Sharon saw Steve sitting next to the bed with a magazine open on his lap. In the corner, a television showed the first responders putting out fires at the Triskelion. The scene switched to Coast Guard ships on the Potomac as divers went over the side to search for bodies inside the helicarrier bay. The scene switched again. This time showing federal agents arresting Senator Stern, his aid, and several others.

Steve put the magazine on the bedside table, and held her hand. "Good to see you awake, finally."

"How long have I been here?"

"A few hours. Cameron's hardly left your side."

She smiled then remembered what happened on board the helicarrier. "Thanks for the rescue."

He shrugged away her appreciation. "Sorry I couldn't save Frankie."

"You did all you could. The odds were stacked against it." Sharon glanced around the room. "Where's Cam?"

"Sent him home to rest, eat, and shower." Steve released her hand to pour a glass of water. He put a straw in it, and held it while she sipped. The cold water felt good on her dry throat. He set the cup out of the way, and leaned on the railing. "Cameron and I had a long talk while you were out of it. By the way, it's nice to finally meet you, _Sharon_."

She looked away, embarrassed that she'd deceived him, but not for doing her job. Fury had assigned her to protect Steve, and that's what she'd done, to the best of her abilities. "Did my cousin also tell you…"

"That Peggy Carter is your aunt? Figured that one out myself." Now Steve looked embarrassed. "I overheard Cameron on the phone one day. Of course, I didn't know it was you he was talking to, not until he told me your name isn't Kate, it's Sharon Carter, and his full name is Cameron Carter Klein."

"Only a few people knew we were related to each other, and to one of the founders of SHIELD. We wanted to make it on our own merits, not Aunt Peggy's coattails." Sharon took his hand again, squeezing tight. "Thanks for everything you did, routing out HYDRA, and all."

He shook his head, grinning wryly. "You realize that you, Cameron, Maria Hill, Natasha, and several hundred others are out of work."

"I'd rather be unemployed than still working for HYDRA." She used the remote to shut off the television. "What will _you_ do?"

"Not sure. I'll have to talk it over with Joi. If she agrees, we could go to New York. Tony had apartments built inside Stark Towers for the Avengers, so rent's not a problem. Plus, there's all my back pay from the Army I've invested."

In her head, Sharon again heard the man's voice asking her if she knew Steve Rogers. Closing her eyes helped her concentrate on what he wanted her to say. "Steve, this may sound crazy, but I think I talked to the Winter Soldier."

Until that moment, Steve had been laid back, calm. He sat up, suddenly tense. "When?"

"On the helicarrier, before my fight with Frankie. I tangled with a HYDRA squad, and he saved my life." She looked down at her hands fussing with edge of the sheet. "Asked me to give you a message." That startled him even more. Did he know the identity of the Winter Soldier? "He said, 'Tell my family I love them, but I can't come home just yet. Tell them not to look for me.'"

Steve pulled at his lip in thought. "Did he say anything else?"

"No. Just that. Do you know him? Is that why he sent the message?"

The nurse came in to check on her, sending Steve out into the hall while she took Sharon to the bathroom and helped her shower. Sharon wanted to question him further about the Winter Soldier, but he'd likely sidestep or even lie.

She also wanted to cry over the loss of her girlfriend, but not in front of him, and the shower would be the perfect place, because someone _should_ cry for Frankie. From what she said before their fight, she hadn't had contact with her family for fifteen years or more, if they were still alive. And now she, Sharon, was the only person, except maybe Rollins, who would miss her. Or not. If Rollins was still alive, he was going to prison. If he'd gotten away, he'd have to go underground, live off the grid, possibly for the rest of his worthless life. Right now, that sounded like a great idea.

However, Sharon wasn't the type of person who could live that way for any length of time. She needed to be out among people, doing the best good she could for the world. Before going to work for SHIELD, she thought about applying with the FBI or even the CIA. In the end, she decided to follow in Aunt Peggy's footsteps. And now that SHIELD was dust in the wind, the other alphabet departments would need all the help they could get.

Wearing a fresh gown, and feeling much better, Sharon waved the nurse away, and walked back to the bed under her own power. As the woman pulled the covers over her, Sharon broached the next subject on her mind. "When do I get out of here?"

"If you continue to improve as you have been, in the morning. Phone's working if you need to make a call."

Sharon waited for the nurse to leave then picked up the phone, and dialed. "Mom? Cam called you? … Yeah, I'm okay… No, don't. You can't get a flight until tomorrow, and I'll be out by then… Yes, Cam's fine too… I'll tell him… Love you too."

~~O~~

While Sharon was with the nurse, Steve walked down the hall to Chase's room. His soon-to-be brother-in-law was awake, and visiting with Bucky and Mia. His parents had been in earlier that day, and it had taken some verbal acrobatics to explain how he'd almost drowned when he was supposed to have been spending the day with his cousin, grandfather, and his grandfather's fiancée.

Speaking of Natasha, Steve hadn't seen her around since they met at the cemetery near Fury's 'grave'. She still had contacts in Kiev, and let him know they'd get back to her with the information they wanted, and needed, regarding the Winter Soldier program.

He knocked on the partially open door, and Chase called out, " _Come in_."

Bucky nodded at a small device sitting on the dresser. To Steve, it looked like one of those electronic air fresheners. In this case, looks were deceiving. It was an anti-eavesdropping device, meaning they could speak freely. "How you feeling, Chase?"

"Not bad, considering."

His friend watched him intently, knowing there was something on his mind. Steve gathered his thoughts, though he hadn't had much time to consider the implications of Justin's message. "Sharon ran into Justin on the helicarrier. He gave her a message for me to give to you."

Mia pushed off the wall she was holding up, excited. "What message? What'd he say?"

"You understand that Sharon didn't see him clearly. She's not even sure it was him."

Chase had tensed up at the mention of his twin. "Just _say_ it, Steve."

"Tell my family I love them, but I can't come home just yet. Tell them not to look for me."

Bucky crossed his arms in that stubborn way he had. Mia, and Chase followed suit. "Yeah, like _that's_ gonna happen, Stevie."

"Agreed."

"Sam stopped in a while ago." Baffled by the apparent change of subject, Steve waited for Bucky to finish. "Said he'd help us bring Justin home."

Steve shook his head, grinning. He and Bucky had known Sam for not even a week, yet it felt like they'd been friends forever. That's how it was when he met Bucky the first time. They were only kids, Steve four, and Bucky five, but somehow, they just fit together as friends.

Mia came over to perch on the arm of Steve's chair. "What I don't get is HYDRA. You killed their leader, Schmidt, in '45, Steve. Who took over? It wasn't that Pierce guy. He's old, but not that old. Since then, they've been hiding inside the SSR, and then inside SHIELD. For seventy-plus years, they kept such a low profile that no one even suspected their existence until Nick figured it out."

"Right," Steve agreed. "That's why he had to be eliminated."

"I get that, but HYDRA's been all about secrets, and doing their dirty work on the down-low. Making some deaths look like accidents or suicides. Some were out and out assassinations, to send a message." Mia looked from one face to the other, threw her hands up and stood. "Someone has to say it. Guess it's gonna be me. If they're so into keeping it off the radar, _why_ did they send Justin to kill Nick in such a public venue? He could've sniped him from some rooftop as he crossed the Roosevelt Bridge, put a bomb under his car, or…" she waved a hand helplessly. "My point is, Justin let himself be seen taking Nick out during rush hour. Why?"

From the looks on their faces, Steve knew they'd all been thinking the same thing since the day it happened. Phony cops had tried to gun down Fury in the middle of rush hour traffic. That meant hundreds, even thousands of witnesses, not to mention the civilian casualties. Steve could only come up with one explanation. "The order was given by Pierce. At the time, Justin was still under HYDRA's thumb. He obeyed orders, got the job done, and returned to wherever their base is here in D.C. That Fury's assassination was so public had to be Justin's interpretation of those orders. If the mission's parameters were too broad…"

Bucky crossed his legs, understanding where Steve was going with his train of thought. "Then Justin wouldn't have bothered hiding what he was doing except for the mask. If Pierce said, 'Kill Nick Fury. I don't care how, just get it done today', he would've done exactly what he did: ambushed him at the first opportunity, no matter where he was. In this case, downtown D.C."

Chase nodded thoughtfully. "And in between his botched attempt on Fury, and when he caught up with us on the bridge, his doctor friend finagled his programming, eventually giving him free will, and access to the memories of his life before he'd been turned into the Winter Soldier."

Mia sat on the side of Chase's bed, one foot on the bed frame, and leaning her elbow on the raised knee. "But he still tried to kill you, Nat, Steve, Sam and Sitwell."

"He started to change after Chase called his name. That had to be the trigger. All he needed was to hear a familiar voice or sound, a particular smell, or even a touch, like a sense memory that reminds you of something you'd consciously forgotten."

He knew it was his imagination, but just for a moment, Steve could swear he smelled Evening in Paris. It had been Peggy's favorite perfume she wore only on special occasions. He remembered how it had clung to his skin after the time they spent together the night before the procedure, and again after their taxi ride to the secret base in Brooklyn where he first met Howard Stark.

Mentally kicking himself for thinking of Peggy when he was so close to marrying another woman, Steve turned his thoughts over to Joi, and _her_ unique scent. Musky, mixed with the smell of whatever she'd been cooking that day. Though she'd laughed, he hadn't been kidding one night when he told her she smelled good enough to eat.

They kicked the subject around a while longer then a nurse came in to tell them that visiting hours were over.

Steve stopped to say good-bye to Sharon, but she'd gone to sleep and Cameron was just coming out. They shared a nod. Steve closed the door, and joined Mia and Bucky waiting at the lifts.

~~O~~

On another floor, a guard stood outside a specific room. And inside that room, Jasper Sitwell lay in bed, wearing a hospital gown, and a pair of handcuffs. When the nurse came in, the guard did too, making it difficult for Sitwell to put his escape plan into motion. She gave him a single pill in a small paper cup, and handed him a glass of water. Obediently, he popped the pill, and drank from the glass.

When she and the guard had gone, Sitwell spit the pill into his hand, and shoved it between the mattress and box spring.

He'd prepared for such an eventuality as being captured. All he needed was time alone. When the hall lights dimmed, signaling night, Sitwell waited exactly and hour before turning on the single lamp that cast a puddle of light on the head of his bed. Running the fingers of his left hand over the skin of his right inner forearm, he found what he was looking for. Using his nails, he tore the flesh-like covering, and pulled out a small key, which he used to unlock the handcuffs.

Easing down to the foot of the bed, Sitwell stood up, and went to the closet where he'd seen the nurse put his clothes. Careful not to bump any of the leads affixed to his chest and temples, he dressed quickly, going down on one knee to tie first one then the other shoe. He fixed the bed so it looked like he was still in it then went into the bathroom to remove the IV. Earlier, he'd snatched gauze and tape from the phlebotomist's tool kit. He used it now to put pressure on the back of the hand where the IV had been.

When he was ready, he pulled one of the leads, setting off the alarm. The guard rushed in, and Sitwell clocked him on the back of the head with the bedpan. He stumbled, and Sitwell followed with a right cross, a knee to the groin, and an uppercut. The guard fell to the floor, and Sitwell got him in a choke hold. Soon, he was unconscious.

One by one, he placed the leads on the guard, and the alarms stopped.

When he cracked the door, Sitwell found out why no one had responded. They were down the hall on a code blue. Taking the chance that had fortuitously come his way, he hurried to the stairwell, and ran down to the first floor, peeking out before straightening his clothes, and affecting an air of calm as he crossed the lobby and exited the front door.

He flagged down a cab, and climbed into the back seat. "Nightingale Condos, Quincy and I-66."

The driver nodded, started the meter, and pulled into traffic.

At the front gate of the condos, Sitwell entered his code, and took a roundabout way to his destination, a locked garage assigned to an occupied condo. The owner of the condo was someone who didn't drive, and owed him a huge favor. The car was registered to one of his aliases that neither SHIELD nor HYDRA knew about.

He unlocked the garage, went inside and closed the door again. Going to the front passenger door, Sitwell used a key to unlock the car. He pulled the door panel off, retrieved IDs, passports, credit cards, and cash, and the panel went back on. Sitwell stashed everything in the glove compartment, and got behind the wheel. Using the remote, he opened the garage door, started the car, and backed out.

Sitwell had a specific destination in mind, one where he would be safe from what was left of SHIELD. All he had to do was make it to there without getting caught.

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Washington D.C.**

On the way to the base, Justin first made an anonymous call to Homeland Security telling them where HYDRA's local base was located. Afterward, he spent the remainder of the trip reminding himself to act as expected once he was inside the base. Don't speak unless spoken to, don't show curiosity, give opinions, or show independent thought. Most importantly, speak only in Russian.

By the time he arrived, the base was surrounded by Homeland Security, the FBI, and the National Guard. He observed the men and women milling around on all sides of the building awaiting orders. The man handing out weapons barely looked up as he armed his teams. As his people received their final instructions for storming the base, Justin noticed that they were carrying KRISS Super Vs, a weapon that was capable of shooting two bullets at once without recoil.

Backing up to get a running start, Justin leapt across the space between the buildings, let himself in through the roof, and quickly made his way down to the lab where Zeya spent most of her time. She may already have left, but he had to be sure.

Darting from shadow to shadow, Justin silently approached the lab where he and the other Winter Soldiers were kept in cryofreeze. He heard a muffled pop, and rushed into the lab to find Zeya standing in front of Delta's chamber, a nine-millimeter handgun gripped in her right hand. Delta, the only woman to survive the serum process, had a hole in the middle of her forehead, and her cryochamber had been turned off. They all had.

Approaching her slowly, Justin's eyes roamed over the room, and back to his friend. He came to her side, touching her on the shoulder. "Zeya," he whispered gently, "What did you do?"

Zeya smiled vacantly. "Justin. I knew you'd come back." She turned to him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I-I killed them."

 **TBC**

The KRISS Super V is a real weapon:

The Vector's action, the KRISS Super V System, is an articulated mechanism which allows the bolt and an inertia block to move downward into a recess behind the magazine well. The theory is that at the end of this travel, energy is transmitted downward rather than rearward, reducing recoil.


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 55**

 **At the Hospital**

On the way to see his cousin, Cameron made a pass through the ER to see if anyone else from SHIELD had come through. He leaned against the wall, pretending to text on his phone so he could see patient names on the receptionist's monitor.

One caught his eye, an unidentified male, approximately mid-forties, with dark hair-what was left of it-and well-muscled. The man had sustained second-, and third-degree burns over most of his body.

Cameron made note of the man's location, and casually wandered in that direction, doing his best to look like he belonged. It worked, because he wasn't challenged. Of course, that could be due to the ER, as well as many others in the D.C. area, was filled beyond capacity.

As he suspected, it was Rumlow, the man who almost killed him. _How could he have survived?_

Cameron took the stairs up to Sharon's room. His cousin fell asleep within minutes of his arrival, and the nurse came in around the same time to let him know that visiting hours were over.

Steve joined a young woman and a man who could only be General James Barnes, but Cameron didn't feel like riding the lift down. He needed physical activity to work off the nervous energy that had built up after he spoke to his aunt, Sharon's mother, and his own mom. Both women were loving, and more than a little overprotective. Not that he blamed them, considering the business he and Sharon were in, but they wore him out with their insistence on knowing what happened though most of it was confidential.

Cameron exited the stairs near the ER. On the way through the crush of humanity coming and going, he hesitated outside the room where the staff had been working on Rumlow, again using his phone as a prop. Briefly, no more than a few seconds, he considered slipping into the former STRIKE leader's room, and turning off his respirator, coming back in a day or two to shoot him, or kill the man some other way, like poison.

But he couldn't do it. He wasn't the type to exact revenge through physical violence. No, Cameron preferred to ruin their credit, or post embarrassing photos of them on social media, or deal an indelible blow to their bank account by funneling all their assets to PETA, the SPCA, The Wounded Warrior Project, or even The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children.

Mentally kicking himself in the ass for even contemplating killing someone in cold blood, Cameron headed for the exit. He'd activated the motion sensor to open the door when he heard a familiar voice raised in anger.

" _I'm fine! Just give me something for the headache, and an ice pack for my black eye, and I'll be out of here_."

Cameron went into the ward, and straight to Maria Hill's bed. The curtain was open, and Hill was sitting on the side of the bed glaring at a nurse in blue scrubs who was glaring back.

"But ma'am, your step-father, the man with the eye patch, said you'd been injured, and made us promise to check you out."

"I don't give a rats a…"

Cameron cleared his throat to announce his presence, and to keep Hill from swearing at the people who were trying to help. He stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, glaring, and using that no-nonsense tone he'd learned from her. "Let them check you out, just in case." Hill opened her mouth, and Cameron held a finger up in warning. "Not a word." Aiming a thumb over his shoulder, Cameron said to the nurse, "I'll be in the waiting room. Call me, if she gets out of line again."

~~O~~

The nurse pulled the curtains closed, and stepped out while Hill changed. When she came back, she smiled, not holding her previous cantankerous mood against her. "Who is he? The man who was just here."

"Cameron." To keep from saying something uncivilized, Hill smiled sweetly. "Boyfriend."

"It's so sweet how much he cares about you."

"Yeah. It is." While the nurse completed her exam, Hill took refuge in her thoughts.

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Washington D.C.**

The acrid stench of gun powder permeated the room, stinging the inside of Justin's nose. He wrapped his hand around the handgun's barrel, and tugged. It came free of Zeya's lax grip, flipping the safety on with his thumb as he tucked it out of sight. "Zeya?"

She motioned to the computers, cryochambers, and their contents. "I had to. Don't you see? I couldn't allow it to continue. If the other subjects had been allowed to live, what's left of HYDRA would have continued the work we were doing here."

The computer beeped, gibberish flashing across the screen faster than even he could read it. Justin turned her to face him, and gripped her shoulders. "SHIELD, the FBI and Homeland Security are here. I have to get you out before you're taken into custody."

"That is no more than I deserve. Without me, HYDRA would never have been able to control you, or your grandfather. It's my fault. All of it."

"Zeya, listen to me." He peered into her eyes, and gave her a small shake. " _None_ of this is your fault. because _you_ were brave enough to stand up to them, I'm free of their influence. Without you, I would still be a mindless assassin."

Tears glistened in her eyes. At some point, her hair had come loose from the bun she wore it in. It hung down her back in a curly rope. The gray and silver strands that outnumbered the black reflected the glow from the only light source: the computers.

Wrapping his fingers around her hand, he pulled her after him. "We have to go." Justin turned to lead her out the back way so they wouldn't be seen. There was a loud bang, Zeya jerked, and looked down at the bright red blossoming above her heart. "Zeya!"

Her knees gave out, and he gathered her close, lowering her to the floor, going down on one knee beside her. She gasped for breath. "I-I only… ever wanted… to do… good."

"You _have_ , Zeya. And I'll see to it the world knows."

Zeya touched his cheek. "I am _so_ proud of you, _moy sladkiy mal'chik_."

Knowing how she felt about him, that she saw him as the son she'd never had, he murmured, " _Spasibo_ … _matushka_."

She gasped, and her fingers clenched on his sleeve, trying to speak, only able to make a few inarticulate sounds. Within seconds, she was dead. He laid her gently on the floor, and looked up. Volkov stood in the doorway holding a gun.

When Zeya's assistant realized the identity of the man standing over Zeya, he fired off several shots, which Justin deflected with his metal hand. The other man's eyes widened in fear.

He ran, and Justin followed. One moment he was himself. At the very second that Zeya took her last breath, he felt something inside him change. Not like flipping a switch, but a slow buildup to a crescendo, turning him into the Winter Soldier again, yet with the ability to make his own decisions.

The lift doors closed in his face, and like every horror movie he'd ever seen, that sorry excuse for a human being went up instead of running out one of the entrances at ground level. Likely to avoid being caught, and spending what was left of his life in prison.

Justin took the stairs two at a time, listening for the lift to stop. It kept going to the top floor, and so did he, exiting the stairwell in time to see the roof door slam shut, and pop open again due to being broken when he first arrived. He stopped just outside the door, watching the other man frantically searching for a way down, and finding none. Pressing his back against the parapet, Volkov's eyes darted side to side, like a wild animal who'd had been cornered.

~~O~~

Behind Justin, the roof door opened again, and a man he recognized as a recent transfer to the team overseeing the Winter Soldiers joined him at the parapet. They shared a glance and a nod. The patch on his left sleeve told the story, that he had been a mole for SHIELD. That put them on the same side.

Together, they looked over the parapet to where Volkov's body lay broken and bloody on the caved-in roof of one of the black Hummers.

The man, whose name he didn't know, stared at the scene without emotion as a female agent climbed onto the Hummer's hood to check for a pulse. It wasn't necessary. Everyone could see he was dead.

"What happened?", the agent asked, but only because it was expected of him.

Keeping his voice even, Justin stated simply, "He killed my friend."

When his eyes met the agent's, one eyebrow inched upward. "It's too bad he jumped. Now we won't have the pleasure of seeing him spend the next fifty or sixty years in a gulag."

"Yeah. Too bad." Justin returned to the roof access, and started down with the agent on his heels.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

 **That Evening**

Natasha opened the front door, and Bucky closed it behind them as the cats came thundering down the stairs, mewling loudly, and twining themselves around their legs. The couple sat on the stairs to give them much needed "Mom and Dad" time, cuddling each one as long as they wanted. "We've missed you too."

Bucky cuddled Priscilla then Rufus until he felt a paw tapping his arm. He looked over, and Ryder was looking at him with wide eyes. He put Priscilla down, and picked up the black and white cat, who snuggled into his embrace, purring like a high-performance engine. "Sorry we were gone so long, boy. Forgive us?"

A white paw patted Bucky's cheek, and Ryder gave him a slow blink. Natasha smiled. "That looks like a yes."

Bucky put Ryder on the floor, and he and the cats followed Natasha to the kitchen. He took out dishes while she got out some of the extra special canned cat food. Together they portioned the food, and set the plates on the floor at the feeding station.

Watching the cats eat, Bucky gathered Natasha in an embrace. "I am _exhausted_."

"Me too, love." Her voice was muffled against his chest. She tilted her head back so she could see his face. "While all this s*** was going on, I had time to think."

"What, pray tell, did you think about, besides not getting killed?" Natasha's hands rubbed up and down his biceps. That, coupled with the smile, and one eyebrow raised, gave Bucky ideas.

He was not, however, prepared for her proposition. "We should adopt a couple of kids."

Stunned, Bucky stared at her with his mouth open. He swallowed hard, and hugged her tight. "Yes! We can start by being foster parents, if you want."

She shook her head. "They're not going to be loaners, James." Her head rested on his shoulder. "Boys _and_ girls. Maybe we can even find siblings who need a forever home."

"Lady, I _love_ the way you think. So, what're we talkin' here? Three, four, ten?"

"Whatever you want. Start with two, and when we're ready for more, take them with us to choose their siblings."

Overjoyed, Bucky wanted to celebrate. He picked Natasha up, and carried her to the living room, laid her on the floor, and joined her. They kissed, and he gasped at the feel of her small cool hands pushing up under his shirt as his knee came to rest between her thighs. He had his hand up under her blouse with a specific goal in mind when they were interrupted by Archie and Penelope jumping on his back, while the others stood around staring at them.

Natasha laughed, and he joined in, touching their foreheads together. "I guess we better get used to it."

Her smirk made his heart skip a beat, mostly because it was the expression she was wearing the first time they met. "We'll manage."

 **Chase's Condo**

 **Forty-Eight Hours Later**

For the twentieth time since he'd gotten home from the hospital, Chase checked his messages, and texts. Three of each from Mom and Dad, one text from Mia, two voice mails from Gramps and Nat, several texts from Serenity and Collin, and one overly long text from Joi sent internationally. His older sister had been told about the situation by her fiancé, and had a few choice words for all those involved. The one person he wanted to hear from hadn't called, emailed, or texted.

He scanned each message for content, and deleted them without responding. What would be the point? They all said the same thing. For a moment, he wanted to throw the phone at the wall, but didn't because he'd just gotten it the day before. It even had that new phone smell.

His talk with Justin prior to them going into the water made Chase believe he'd finally gotten his brother back, that they would be a family again, complete, no missing pieces. He even pictured the faces of his family when they found Justin was alive. But then he got the message sent via Steve's neighbor, Kate. Her real name was Sharon Carter, and she'd been assigned to "protect" Steve, though shouldn't it have been the other way around?

 _Tell my family I love them, but I can't come home just yet. Tell them not to look for me._

Chase could hear Justin's voice inside his head. And he, of all people, should know better. The Barnes family doesn't give up.

He adjusted the sling supporting his broken wrist where it dug into the back of his neck, annoying and frustrating him. He took it off, threw it across the room, and picked up the phone, scrolling the contact list, and stopping on Celeste's name. She deserved to know Justin was alive, but he wasn't sure what to say. How do you explain to your no-longer-dead twin's ex-girlfriend that he'd been turned into an assassin, and had just helped you take down not only a Nazi terrorist organization bent on world domination, but also the country's premier intelligence organization while destroying billions in public and private property?

The doorbell rang, and Chase considered pretending he was asleep. Then, his unwanted guest knocked. " _Open the door, Chase. I know you're home. Your car's in the garage._ "

Speak of the devil. _No, scratch that_ , his conscience disputed. _Celeste is one of the few people on Earth who was the closest thing to a true angel_.

" _If you don't open the door, I'll use my key. You have five seconds._ "

Giving in to the inevitable, Chase opened the door. Celeste must've just come from the studio. She was dressed in cross trainers, yoga pants, a spandex sports top, and a light jacket. She brushed past him into the living room.

Groaning silently, Chase added a touch of sarcasm to his voice as he closed the door. " _Please_ come in, Celeste. Make yourself comfortable. Coffee? Or would her majesty prefer prime rib and baked Alaska? Only take ten minutes."

"I'm already in, and if I wanted comfort, I wouldn't be here. Your sofa sucks." She dropped her jacket and purse on the recliner. "Sit down. _I'll_ make the coffee."

Taking a seat on the sofa with an audible groan this time, Chase propped one foot on the coffee table while cradling his sore wrist on his stomach. "Why are you here?"

He heard the Keurig spitting through the end of the first, and the second a short time later. Celeste came back carrying two mugs of coffee. "Just because _you_ neglect me doesn't mean other members of your family do. Mia asked me to check in on you."

"Don't feel like company." Chase sipped his coffee, and set the mug on the end table. "If I didn't answer for my family, what made you think I'd answer for _you_?"

"Because you did."

Shrugging, Chase scooted around to ease the pain in his lower back. He healed quickly, and would be back to work tomorrow. The wrist support would stay on at least another four days. "I'm an _adult_ , Celeste. Don't need anyone checking up on me."

Celeste pushed the recliner back so the foot rest was up. "Sure not acting like it." She drank from her mug, and held it in her hand. "What happened? How did you get hurt?"

"What did Mia say?"

"To ask _you_." Chase kept quiet, and his friend rolled her eyes. "What _is_ it with your family? Everyone I talked to is injured to some extent, and no one will say how or why. If I didn't know better, I'd think all of you were involved in the terrorist attack downtown a few days ago."

Keeping his expression neutral, Chase grumbled to himself. Out loud, he said, "It's a long story. You'll just have to wait for Gramps and me to write our memoirs to read about it."

"Oh, I forgot." Celeste fished around inside her purse, and pulled out an envelope, which she passed to him. "Speaking of writing, found this sticking out from under your 'go away' mat. Probably a foreclosure notice."

"It's _not_ a foreclosure notice." The front of the generic white envelope was blank. He slid his thumb under the flap, and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper folded in thirds with his name handwritten on the flap. Not his given name, but the nickname Justin had given him when they were kids. No one else called him Chazzie. Only Justin.

Ignoring his aching muscles, headache, and sore wrist, Chase ran out the door, and down to the end of the sidewalk. He looked up and down, but all he could see was Mr. Uxbridge walking his dog, and the neighbor kids riding Razors, and bouncing balls up and down the street.

How could his twin have been here and not knocked? "Dammit to _hell!_ " He went back inside, nearly running Celeste over.

"Chase, what's going on? Who's it from?"

Taking a breath to calm himself, he carried the letter to the bedroom. If he left it in any other part of the condo, Celeste would open it to appease her curiosity, which rivaled that of her cat, Cleopatra.

Chase returned to the living room rubbing the back of his head, glad that the lump was gone, wishing it had taken the headache with it. "Not important. I'll read it later." Standing at the entrance to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, and the second bathroom, Chase wanted to hustle his friend out so he could read the letter in peace, but that would look suspicious. "Let's get something to eat. On me."

Celeste snorted, picked up her purse and jacket, and opened the front door. "Since you so seldom foot the bill when we go out, you got a deal. We can even go to that place with the awesome hot wings, and the women are dressed like Daisy Duke."

He grabbed his keys, and locked up on the way out. "You're a real pal, Celeste. Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you for a friend?"

"Nope. But you will, over dessert." She took her keys out, using the fob to open the doors of her brand-new hybrid SUV. "I'll drive."

 **The Noble Plum**

 **Japanese-Chinese Fusion Restaurant**

Sam held Mia's chair then seated himself to her right. The server handed them each a menu with a smile. "We have a variety of rice wines from all over the world. You'll find the list on the back page. I'll give you a few minutes to decide."

Scooting close to Sam so they were touching from hip to shoulder, Mia tossed one menus out of the way so they could share. She leaned on his shoulder, and pointed at the one of the offerings. "How about Sake?"

"Sounds good. Not too much though. I'm driving."

She slapped him playfully on the chest. "Drink all you want. I'll drive. I never get drunk. And believe me, I've tried." The server returned with glasses of ice water. Mia smiled. "Sake, please."

The woman left, and Sam flipped to the house specialties. "How do you feel about sushi?"

"I hold it in high regard. We can share."

The young woman came back, and set the sake carafe and two cups on the table. "Are you ready to order?"

Mia poured the sake, and passed a cup to Sam. "We'll start with _makizushi_ , and _futomaki_ to share. And I'll have the General Tso's Chicken with steamed rice."

"Broccoli Beef and fried rice for me."

When the server had gone to place their order, Sam turned to the dessert page. He inhaled sharply when Mia caressed his thigh as she whispered in his ear, "Let's get the food to go."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Steve let himself into Bucky's office, sat at the desk, and pulled the laptop to him. Natasha had assured him that the Internet line was secure. And he had helped her remove the cameras that had been installed to catch his friend doing HYDRA's dirty work, though they hadn't known it at the time.

There was even an anti-eavesdropping device keeping a constant vigil on the home and any services coming into or going out of the home. It was programmed to inform Natasha and Bucky if anyone was attempting to listen in on their conversations, or hack into the computers or other mobile devices.

He booted up the computer, and accessed the video conferencing program that Chase had personally designed while off work with his broken wrist, and had been extensively tested.

Because he hadn't spoken directly to Joi for several weeks, fearing that HYDRA would find out where she was, and have her killed despite the security detail that Bucky had assured him was in place, Steve took several deep breaths to calm his nerves then initiated a video call. The screen cleared to show Joi's smiling face. Behind her, he could see the hotel room. Shadows on the walls indicated the presence of her bodyguards, though they stayed out of sight.

Just seeing Joi made Steve feel better. "Hi, babe."

" _Hey_." Her eyes darted to the side, and a moment later, two doors slammed one after the other. Still, she kept her voice low. " _It's good to see you, Steve. I was so worried when Gramps' friends told me what happened_."

"I'm just glad you're safely away from it all. Where are you?"

Joi held up a stuffed bear wearing green lederhosen. " _Guess_."

Steve shook his head and chuckled. "Germany."

One side of Joi's mouth turned up. " _Stuttgart, to be exact. We'll be moving on to Berlin tomorrow. After that, we'll head home. I know we agreed to postpone the wedding again, but we need downtime_."

"You said touring Europe had been a dream of yours since high school." Steve couldn't help poking a little fun at his fiancée.

" _I'm am so_ _over_ _it! We check into a hotel in a country where most of us don't speak the language. Spend three to four days touring, filming, cooking, baking, and pretending to sightsee while a camera crew follows us everywhere. One of the cameramen even tried to follow Elyse into the ladies' room. Bella fired him, gave him a ticket, and severance pay, and sent him packing_."

He covered his laughter with a cough didn't fool Joi at all. "I miss you, Joi."

" _Miss you too, babe. Every hour of every day_."

Steve looked down at the keyboard. "I know we decided not to live together until we were married…"

" _You_ _made that decision without consulting moi_."

He rolled his eyes dramatically to make Joi laugh, because he loved the sound. "Since we haven't come up with another wedding date that works for everyone, what would you say if I changed my mind?"

Joi's mouth dropped open for a few stunned seconds. Leaning close to the cam, she gave him her "I want you now" smirk. " _If you were here, Steve, I'd_ _show_ _you. When I get home, we'll take a couple of days, just the two of us, then you can help me pack._ "

"But your place is bigger."

"Then I'll help _you_ pack." A door opened, and Joi looked away for a moment. She nodded to the person out of sight, and came back to him. " _Gotta go. They need us at the studio_."

Steve didn't want her to leave yet, but understood how important the show was to her career. "I love you, Joi."

For an answer, Joi blew him a kiss, and waved good-bye. She touched the keyboard of her laptop, and the screen went black.

 **Homeland Security**

 **Human Resources**

The woman sitting across from Cameron reminded him of his third-grade teacher, Ms. Wentworth. She was tall, six feet at least, in her fifties, half-frame glasses perched on the end of her nose, and on the skinny side. Blue veins showed through the pale, paper-thin skin of her hands. "You used to work for SHIELD."

He didn't care for the woman's tone, and let it show in his eyes, but not in his voice. "That a problem?"

Ms. Wentworth tilted her head up just enough to look at him over her glasses. "No." She made notes on a pad instead of a tablet or laptop. "Do you have personal responsibilities that would preclude working overtime?"

"My only responsibilities are to God, my family, and my country, in that order." Cameron uncrossed his knees, and leaned forward. "Ms. Clapper, several years ago, this department offered me a position with Cybercrimes. Someone must've thought I had something to bring to the table, or there wouldn't have been an offer. I have years of experience in the intelligence community, and am within two years of getting my PhD in computer science."

"I see."

"I can start next Monday, Agnes, so let's talk salary, and perks."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff** **Home**

 **Three Days Later**

The doorbell echoed through the house, disturbing Natasha and Bucky at the computer going over the qualifications for fostering versus adopting. Natasha jumped up. "I'll go. I ordered pizza for dinner."

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Veggie for me, meat lovers for you, and tuna for the cats." She closed the door, leaving him with a look that said she was out of her mind. On the way, she grabbed Bucky's credit card from his wallet, and opening the front door. "That was fast. What do I owe you?"

The man at the door wasn't carrying a thermal pizza bag, nor was he wearing a uniform. He was dressed like a used car salesman in a cheap suit with a clip-on tie, and his hair was a little longer than it should be for the shape of his face. "Are you Natasha Romanoff?"

Her eyes filled with suspicion. "Who are _you?_ "

"I need to see proof of your identity please."

Puzzled, Natasha fetched her wallet, and handed him her ID. He seemed satisfied that she was who he thought she was. She held it by the edges when he returned it so as not to smudge the fingerprints. "Your turn."

With one hand out of sight, holding tight to a Makarov, she tensed when he reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a badge, and an official-looking envelope. Natasha gave the ID a lingering perusal, committing his information to memory, and taking the proffered item. "Natasha Romanoff, you have been served."

"Served?" Natasha opened the envelope, and pulled out several sheets of paper. She skimmed the contents. Shock made her palms itch. "This is a summons, ordering me to appear before the Senate Committee Hearing to give testimony regarding the destruction of The Triskelion, and Project Insight."

"Yes, ma'am." The man nodded, returned to his car, and drove away.

 **TBC**

 _Moy sladkiy mal'chik_ = My sweet boy

 _Spasibo_ … _matushka_ = Thank you, mother

 _Sake_ is a Japanese rice wine made by fermenting rice that has been polished to remove the bran. Unlike wine, in which alcohol (ethanol) is produced by fermenting sugar that is naturally present in grapes, sake is produced by a brewing process more like that of beer, where the starch is converted into sugars before being converted to alcohol.

 _Makizushi_ or "rolled sushi" is a cylindrical piece, formed with the help of a bamboo mat known as a _makisu_ , and is generally wrapped in nori (seaweed), but is occasionally wrapped in a thin omelet, soy paper, cucumber, or shiso (perilla) leaves. _Makizushi_ is usually cut into six or eight pieces, which constitutes a single roll order.

 _Futomaki_ or "thick, large or fat rolls" is a large cylindrical piece, usually with _nori_ on the outside. A typical _futomaki_ is often made with two, three, or more fillings that are chosen for their complementary tastes and colors.


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 56**

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington, D.C.**

A man wearing only a pair of plain white boxers lay on the makeshift bed, sleeping. But it was not the sleep of one who was happy and content. Dreams some would call nightmares moved and pranced through his subconscious. They varied in intensity, and content from one night to another. Often, he would not be able to recall the dream upon waking, only the primary emotion felt during the vision.

Tonight, the dream was less a nightmare than his subconscious tormenting him with the events on the day Zeya died.

~~O~~

Justin and the SHIELD agent left the lab together. Then as soon as the other man was out of sight, Justin returned to Zeya. He wanted to make sure her family knew of the sacrifice she made to help him, and to give her a decent burial. However, there was no way to get her body out without being seen. Still, he had to honor Zeya, as well as dispose of the bodies of the dead Winter Soldiers so no one could use their blood and DNA to continue their experiments on other unsuspecting volunteers. Not that Justin had been a volunteer.

On the way, Justin came to a room filled with uniforms, and other clothing. He took the time to change so he wouldn't stand out if seen by other agents beside the one from the roof. As he slipped into the hallway, he stuffed his hair up under a black cap, and slipped on a pair of gloves to hide his metal hand.

Justin made it back to the lab without encountering anyone else. The computers were still turning the data into gibberish. And while it was a good idea, Zeya hadn't considered that her superiors had uploaded everything to an off-site storage facility, or even to another secret lab. Without the bodies, their duplication of the work done here would take much longer. It would buy him time to find the other locations, and destroy them as well.

He typed a few commands into the computers, and the data wipe stopped. Additional keystrokes brought up the self-destruct program. It was protected by layers of encryption that only took a few moments to break through. Chase would be proud of how computer savvy he was now.

He set the timer for twenty minutes to give everyone a chance to get out, and destroyed the keyboards so it couldn't be stopped.

For his final act, Justin went down on one knee beside Zeya's body. He folded her hands together on her stomach, and whispered a short prayer for her soul.

Out in the hallway, he listened for comm chatter as law enforcement methodically searched the building so he would know when they found the charges planted at key structural points throughout. That confirmation came as he was making a sweep of the area to move them along.

By his internal clock, the self-destruct only had three minutes left when he found one of the good guys unconscious, bleeding from a stab wound. Whoever had taken the man out had used a weapon that wouldn't draw attention the way a gun would.

Using a wad of paper towels from the bathroom, he put pressure on the wound in the man's stomach. Pulling him to a sitting position, Justin picked him up, and carried him out the front door. Others tried to take him, but he just waved them away. "Take cover! It's about to blow!"

People scrambled in all directions, Justin barely making it behind a convenient dumpster with his cargo. He protected the man with his body, not even grunting at the bits of debris that fell on him.

When the shaking stopped, he lifted his head, and looked around. Several people had been injured, though not seriously. Hopefully this would put a crimp in HYDRA's plans for the future. Unless they have other Winter Soldiers he didn't know about, losing him, Gramps, and the others would set them back years, maybe even decades.

Taking a chance that he'd be recognized, Justin replaced the cap that had fallen off, and tugged the brim down. "Hey! Over here!" He carried the man out into the open, lay him down, and opened his shirt to show the wound. "He's been stabbed."

A man and a woman rushed to assist, and while the group's focus was on them, Justin backed away, turned, and jogged out of the area.

With no specific destination in mind, he wandered the streets until after dark. The mouthwatering scent of food cooking drove him to the doors of a café with patio seating. Glancing at the scenery, he realized it was his sister's café. Steve said Joi was still out of the country, and he hadn't eaten there enough to be recognized, hopefully.

Wrapping his dignity around him, and tempering it with humility, Justin scuffed up his clothes, giving them torn spots to add authenticity to the story he would tell the manager. He shoved the hat behind some bushes, slumped his shoulders, and went inside.

Ten minutes after he walked in, a big bowl of corn and crab soup, and one of Joi's infamous BLAT wraps had been placed in front of him at a table in the back of the dining room where the employees sat to relax when it was slow. One of the servers brought him a tall glass of cola with ice.

Because he hadn't eaten solid food in God only knew how long, Justin was leery of eating anything spicy or too heavy, so he started with the soup. The moment it touched his tongue, his stomach yelled "Feed me!" And he did. Every last bite.

~~O~~

Justin awoke with a start, and for a moment, didn't remember where he was. At least this time, the dream ended on a pleasant note.

After he'd eaten, the manager had Justin help with the nightly cleaning. The older woman watched in wonder as he quickly, and without breaking a sweat, stacked the tables and chairs on the tile floor near the kitchen so the carpets could be cleaned during the night.

The manager was so impressed, she offered him a job. Justin thanked her for the meal, and said he would think about it. When he returned from taking out the trash, she pressed several bills into his hand. "By the way, what's your name, honey?"

He couldn't give his real name. At one time he wanted everyone to call him Finn, sort of a nickname derived from his loathed middle name, Phineas. That was good enough for the time being. "Call me Finn."

The woman smiled at him. "Well then, Finn, you have a blessed night."

Without thinking, Justin gave her a lopsided smile. "And you too."

Justin shoved the cash into his pocket without counting it, and went to find somewhere to stay for the night. That's how he wound up sleeping in the nursery of an abandoned church.

Throughout the day, he took steps to keep others out so he could have the place to himself. For _their_ protection, not his. Justin had no way of knowing if all the s*** HYDRA put in his head had been removed by Zeya, and he didn't want to take the chance that someone might be hurt by accident.

Originally, Justin had planned on leaving town, going somewhere warmer. But then he wouldn't be near his family. He wanted to be with them, but he didn't want to put them in danger in case he had an episode like Gramps, or if HYDRA didn't buy his little trick with the transponder, and came looking for him.

Soon, Justin's stomach began to growl. He also needed clothes, shoes, and some way to catch up on the time he missed, and to keep up with the world. More than two years of world events were missing, and his insatiable curiosity had begun to reassert itself.

Family was his priority, but he also wanted to check in on his friends, and his employees at Tunnel Vision. But most of all, he had to see Rey, to see for himself that she was doing well. As he got dressed, he laid out a plan for visiting his family without them knowing, starting with Mom and Dad.

There was a decent thrift shop not far from here. That would be his first stop, right after he fed the beast that was now living in his stomach. Justin snorted at himself for the weird analogy, which was something he might've said before HYDRA. Did that mean he would one day be the old Justin again? _God, I hope so!_

 **Homeland Security**

 **Human Resources**

Cameron saw Agnes's first show of real emotion since the interview began, and he swore he could hear her internal voice saying, _Perks?! Who does this guy think he is?_

She cleared her throat. Another show of emotion. "This is just the first step, Mr. Klein. Your second interview is with the Cybercrimes Division Vice President. If she's agreeable, we'll do a comprehensive background check, and you'll go for a drug test. _Then_ we can talk salary and _possible_ perks."

Now they were getting somewhere. No more idiotic questions like "Where do you see yourself in five years?" What the hell kind of question was that? Five years ago, he hadn't a clue he'd be sitting across from a self-important old crone who thought she could intimidate him. Instead of rolling his eyes, Cameron smiled genially. "I'm free now. Where's her office?"

"It doesn't work that way, Mr. Klein. I'll forward your information and my notes from this meeting, and Ms. Bartusek's assistant will contact you to set up an interview."

Letting his annoyance show, Cameron stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, picked up his brown leather business portfolio, and zipped it shut. "Coming here is obviously a waste of both our time." He made a show of looking at his watch. "It's a little early for my appointment with the HR director at the FBI. Do you know where I can get a decent vegetarian meal that's not too pricey?"

Ten minutes later, Cameron found himself being introduced to Olivia Bartusek. He guessed her age at around forty-five. She had flawless skin, short black hair, and appeared to be of East European descent. The gold and diamond ring on her left hand told him she was married. Photos displayed around the room indicated she had two children in their teens, a large dog of indeterminate parentage, and an odd-looking cat without a tail. Her clothing and glasses were just barely fashionable, and she carried herself with confidence that didn't sway into arrogance. She was on the plump side, and smiled brightly while extending her hand. "Please have a seat, Mr. Klein. Would care for something to drink? We have the usual assortment of SFO drinks."

"I'll have whatever you're having."

To her assistant loitering in the doorway, Olivia said, "Liam, would you pop down to the ice cream shop, and bring us a couple of double chocolate shakes with extra whipped cream?

"Yes, ma'am."

When the door shut, Cameron unbuttoned his jacket, and rested the left ankle on his right knee. "I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, Ms. Bartusek."

"Call me Livie, Cameron. And it's no problem. Agnes isn't easily impressed, which meant I had to meet you ASAP." Cameron blushed lightly at the praise, and Livie either didn't notice, or was kind enough not to mention it. Livie booted up a state-of-the-art tablet. "What can you tell me about the terrorist attack on the Triskelion?"

 _Yeah, that's what it was alright. Lie like a wall-to-wall carpet, Klein_. Cameron shrugged, and shook his head. "Can't say. I was on PTO when it happened."

If Livie guessed he was lying, she didn't bust him on it. She merely nodded, and went back to the tablet. "I see from your resume that you graduated from Carnegie Mellon University with a 4.0 average at the age of twenty-two with dual master's degrees in computer science and electrical engineering, and a bachelor's in mechanical engineering."

"Yes, ma'am. I've been attending classes online. Next year, I'll return to a traditional college, and should have my PhD in computer science by 2016."

"I see." She scrolled the tablet. "On _paper_ , you appear to be highly intelligent, hardworking, and a self-starter."

Annoyed that Livie was now taking the same approach as Agnes Clapper, Cameron dropped his foot to the floor, and sat up straighter in his chair. "It's not just on paper, and it's not arrogance, or bragging. What you're reading, my resume, is just a statement of facts about my skills, work experience, and education. If you don't think it's true, test me."

Their eyes met, each refusing to be the first to look away. Livie's left eyebrow rose a quarter inch. "That sounds like a challenge."

Cameron agreed. "If that's how you see it, then yes. What you _won't_ see on my resume is that the summer I turned fifteen, I hacked into the TechServe, Inc. database and downloaded the then-current versions of their two most popular FPS games, 'Duty Bound', and 'MegaSphere'. I corrected the programming bugs, improved the graphics, and made the games more player-friendly. Then, I re-uploaded the games to TechServe's game testers. Within a week, they were on my doorstep, asking questions, and listening to the answers.

"A few months before I graduated from university, TechServe sent someone to recruit me to head up their programming department. Told them I would think about it. Upon graduation, I turned down a six-figure salary with TS, plus offers from Homeland Security, the FBI, and several Fortune 500 companies to go to work for SHIELD."

"So, you have relatives who also work for SHIELD."

A face floated through his memory. He shoved it aside because it was irrelevant. "If I wanted to follow in the footsteps of family, I'd have joined the military." He leaned his arm on the edge of the desk. "If you're still doubting my veracity, the CEO of TechServe contacts me every six months to up the ante. You can call, and ask him."

Dumbfounded, Livie stuttered, "I, uh, I don't have Rich Anderson's phone number."

"Not a problem." Cameron took out his phone, scrolled his contact list, and handed the phone to Livie. " _I_ do."

 **Stark Industries**

"Maria Hill? Come with me please."

Hill uncrossed her knees, stood, hung her purse from her right shoulder, and smiled as she followed the dour faced man to the office of the HR director at Stark Industries. He opened the door for her, and closed it again behind her.

The woman behind the desk stood, offering her hand. "Ms. Hill. My name is Rhonda Gregson. Please have a seat. It's not often that Mr. Stark personally recommends someone for a position in the company. Not since Ms. Potts became the CEO."

Hill laid her purse in her lap. "Mr. Stark and I have worked together on a few special projects over the years. When I left my previous positon, he offered me one with SI."

"You realize that, despite your friendship with the company's owner, you'll still have to go through the normal hiring process."

Relaxing in her seat, Hill crossed her knees, showing not a hint of nervousness. "Looking forward to it."

"This includes drug testing, a comprehensive background check, and a polygraph, which you must pass in order to work for SI."

Hill kept her smirk from showing at the woman's intimidation attempt. She'd have to do better than that with someone who'd fought the Chitauri, and helped bring down HYDRA. Smiling graciously, when what she really wanted to do was smash the woman's face in, Hill tucked her feet under the chair. "I'm ready when you are."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Hearing car doors slam, Bucky peeked out his bedroom window. "It's them, Tasha."

His fiancée picked up the comb to run it through his hair recently cut short. "Turn around." Bucky did as she asked, and turned around so she could finish in the front. "No matter what questions they ask, tell the truth."

"What if they ask about…"

"They _won't_." Natasha laid the comb on the nightstand, and pressed her palms to his chest. "You'll do fine."

When _she_ said it, Bucky believed. He passed a hand over the sides of his hair, and tugged his shirt into place. "I'll be my usual charming, awesome self."

Her smile made his heart skip a few beats, just as it had the day they met. The bell rang, echoing through the house, and a moment later, the cats were in the bedroom doorway meowing to let them know someone was at the door. "Show time."

The Bucky went downstairs, and opened the front door, giving both men the once-over. They looked like different versions of the same man. "Can I help you?"

The two men held up badges that indicated they were from the NSA. The man on the left did the talking. "We're looking for Steve Rogers. We know he's a friend of yours…"

"My oldest and dearest friend, to be exact."

The skin around the man's eyes tightened in annoyance. "We have a few questions for Captain Rogers regarding what happened at the Triskelion."

Hiding his irritation, Bucky shook his head. "He's not here."

The man on the right spoke for the first time. "Our information says he's been staying with you and Ms. Romanoff."

"You don't listen well, do you? I _told_ you, he's not _here_ ," Bucky stated shortly. He opened the door, and stood back. "You can search the house, if you want. No need for a warrant."

"That won't be necessary, General. We've been to Captain Rogers' apartment. He hasn't been there in weeks. Nor is he at the home of his fiancée, your granddaughter, Esmeralda Lockwood."

"Her name is Joi. She's hates being called Esmeralda." In a prearranged signal telling him it was time to show a bit of anger, Natasha called out from upstairs, " _Who's at the door, James?_ "

"People looking for Steve!"

She huffed loudly. " _Skazhite eti idiotskiye zhurnalistam my ne znayem, gde on nakhoditsya._ "

"They're not reporters, babe, and I _told_ them. They don't believe me." The agent on the right slanted his eyes his partner, telling Bucky he spoke Russian, or at least understood. Natasha continued to call the men names until the bedroom door shut. Bucky poked a finger at the agents without touching them. "And for the record, leave my granddaughter out of whatever vendetta you have against Captain Rogers. She's been out of the country for almost four months."

As if they'd practiced it, the agents replaced their sunglasses at the same time, the one on the left, saying, "We make it a point to keep tabs on family, friends, and acquaintances of those on our watch list."

"And why is Captain Friggin' _America_ on a watch list?"

The agent on the right fished keys out of his pants pocket. "The same reason the rest of the Avengers, and now _you_ , are."

The air in his lungs stalled when a lacy bra, followed by a pair of matching panties landed at the bottom of the stairs, followed by Natasha's sultry, " _Send them away, and come back to bed,_ _lyubimaya_."

Grinning, he told the agents, "My lady calls, fellas."

Bucky slammed and locked the door in their faces, and took the stairs three at a time. He went into the bedroom, and closed the cats out. Their tails twitched with indignation as they took off in separate directions.

 **Undisclosed Location**

Sitting across from Jasper Sitwell, von Strucker and List watched the man take a long drink of the beer he'd requested upon his arrival at the base. Only the highest ranked HYDRA members were given the location.

"We have heard from many of those who escaped the failed launch of Project Insight, Herr Sitwell. The loss of our leader leaves a hole in HYDRA's hierarchy that must be filled, and soon, or our followers may begin to believe that we're incapable of maintaining control."

Sitwell barked a laugh. "And they'd be right. With Pierce dead, it's all going to s***. What about Gideon Malik?"

Von Strucker thought over the suggestion, and shook his head. "He's busy with his pet project for the foreseeable future. We need someone who has HYDRA's best interests at heart, and will give his or her life to see the plan for world domination come to fruition." He and List gave Sitwell near identical smiles.

Their guest nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. " _Me_?"

"You've been a faithful follower since you learned of the cause at your mother's knee," List stated, and the scientists shared an amused glance at Sitwell's shock. "I can't think of anyone more suited to the role, can you, Wolfgang?"

"I cannot, Hans." He shifted in his seat, and touched the monocle over his right eye. "There will soon come a time where we will make our own destiny, Herr Sitwell. And we believe that you are the man to return HYDRA to its former glory."

List went to a cabinet with a glass front, and returned with three crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne. He removed the cork, and held the bottle over the first glass. "What do you say, Herr Sitwell?"

The bald man adjusted his glasses, and grinned. "I say it's time to celebrate my promotion."

The glasses were filled, and von Strucker passed them out. All three stood, holding them aloft, the sparkling liquid glinting in the overhead light. "A toast to our new leader, Jasper Sitwell!"

Together, Von Strucker and List cheered, "Hail, HYDRA!"

Sitwell drank down his champagne, not noticing that his companions hadn't taken so much as a sip. Within seconds, he began coughing. The glass fell to the floor. Sitwell pulled at his collar, unable to breathe. He stumbled, and fell while the two scientists looked on dispassionately.

Their glasses were placed on the table. List went to the door, motioned to the guards, and two muscular men entered. Von Strucker motioned to the man on the floor. "Take him to the laboratory. Have him placed in a cell near the other volunteers. And see to it that he has the appropriate clothing for what is coming."

The men grabbed Sitwell under the arms, and carried him from the room.

Von Strucker turned to his companion. "I was thinking, Hans, that perhaps we should have given Jasper the option of actually volunteering for the experiments before, what is the expression?"

"Shanghaiing."

Von Strucker went to the cabinet, and came back with two tumblers, and a bottle of scotch. He poured a single finger in each. "Yes. Before shanghaiing him."

List took a sip of the scotch, and sighed. "It was better this way, Wolfgang. I do not believe he would have been amenable."

"You're correct, as always, Hans." Von Stucker lifted his glass. "We will begin Sitwell's indoctrination with the most thorough physical he has ever experienced."

"I've already informed the staff. He will need to fast for the blood work." Taking a seat, List toyed with his empty glass. "The others should arrive soon with the package they were sent to retrieve. By morning, at the latest."

"Then I will wait to begin with Sitwell until after we've examined the specimen and performed tests. See to it that he's fed once he awakens from the sedative we put in his drink."

"Of course, Wolfgang." Looking up at his colleague, List nodded when asked if he'd like another scotch. "How are the other volunteers faring?"

His glass was empty as well. Von Strucker replenished their drinks, and joined List at the table. "The older subjects' systems are not accepting the injections as well as the younger ones. The lab is working on discovering the reason. However, the two youngest, a brother and sister, are reacting to the current formula superbly."

"That's good to hear. When they first arrived, there was some concern due to their young age, yet they have proven to be quite resilient, not to mention resourceful. No doubt due to having spent several years living on the streets after their parents died."

"After the third escape, I made promises that would ensure their cooperation."

Getting to his feet, List went to the doorway to stare at the artifact. Its electric blue glow fascinated him, and von Strucker understood. It had the same effect on all of them, due to the immense amount of power contained within, and controlled by it. "Yes, I heard. What are their names again?"

"We don't refer to them by their given names. Just the designations they were assigned. They are odd children. No one recruited them. Somehow, they knew what we were doing here, and showed up at the gate demanding to see the man in charge."

Crossing to List's side, hands clasped behind his back, von Strucker smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "Just think, Hans. In a year, two at the outside, this world will be rid of Iron Man himself, Tony Stark."

"And his demise will also bring about the end of the Avengers."

 **TBC**

BLAT wrap - a BLT with avocado wrapped in a tortilla, or lettuce leaves.

SFO is an acronym the author created. It stands for Safe for the Office. The opposite of NSFW.

 _Skazhite eti idiotskiye zhurnalistam my ne znayem, gde on nakhoditsya._ = Tell those idiot reporters we don't know where he is.


	57. Chapter 57

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 57**

Though her ribs still ached, especially after working out, Sharon went to the indoor pistol range to practice for her quals coming up in a few days. A passing score was forty-eight out of sixty, and she was determined to do better.

The target used would be the QIT-99 on a course that consisted of a total of sixty rounds. Each round counted as one point, any hits inside the target area counted, and you must draw from concealment for every string of shots. As long as her ribs cooperated, she was good to go.

Taking her stance, Sharon thumbed the safety off, aimed, and emptied the clip into the target, all her shots clustered in the center ring. She stepped back, bumping into the agent in charge, Tyreek Areli. He looked at the target then at her, nodding with approval. His smile wasn't returned. She was good, and knew it.

Areli motioned for her to follow, and led her to his office where it was relatively quiet. He motioned to a chair. She sat down, wondering why he'd called her in. "I've moved your quals from Friday to tomorrow, Carter. That work for you?"

"Of course, sir. May I ask why?"

Leaning back in his cushioned office chair, Areli crossed one leg over the other. "The deputy task force commander of the Joint Counter Terrorist Center in Berlin, Everett Ross, specifically requested you be assigned to his office."

"Why me? There are more senior agents chomping at the bit to be assigned to his department."

He shrugged, and shook his head. "He's not obliged to share the whys and wherefores with the likes of me." Holding out a hand, he modified what he was going to say. "My advice is to just take the position, and run with it. Rent out your apartment, sell your car, have someone take care your pet, pack it all up, and move to Berlin. You'll be happy, Ross will be happy, and when _he's_ happy, I'm happy."

Thinking over Areli's suggestions, Sharon left the office, making her way back to the indoor target range to turn in her weapons, and safety gear.

Forty minutes later, she arrived home, having stopped to pick up dinner on the way. She grabbed a quick shower, put on her pajamas, warmed up the Chinese, opened a bottle of root beer, and settled on the sofa to watch an animated movie. Only her cousin knew this about her. She'd never even told Frankie. Her favorites were _Tangled_ , _Despicable Me_ , and _Brave_.

Halfway through the sweet and sour pork with fried rice, Sharon's ribs reminded her that they hadn't completely healed. She shut off the television, put away the leftovers, brushed her teeth, swallowed two of the pills the doctor had given her, and crawled into bed.

In the morning, Sharon awoke to an insistent beeping that wasn't the alarm. Rolling out of bed, she tracked the sound to her laptop, left on during the night. She opened it, and clicked on the flashing video chat icon. "Yeah?"

" _Good morning, Agent Carter. I didn't mean to wake you_."

Blinking at the screen, she brought the face there into focus, and found that it was none other than her new boss, Everett Ross. "Not a problem, sir. My alarm was set to go off in two hours anyway. What can I do for you?"

" _Agent Areli spoke to you about joining my department, correct?"_

"Yes, sir. He did." She covered a yawn with the back of her hand, smiling sheepishly at Ross. "It's been less than a day. I haven't even made a list of the things that need to be done before moving to another country."

Ross's bland smile lacked warmth and sincerity. " _Good, because I have an assignment for you_." The man consulted a sheaf of papers, though Sharon got the sense that everything on it had long ago been committed to memory. " _Your exact orders are due to arrive via courier at 1100 today, and will be encrypted, just like this call. The gist is now that SHIELD is defunct, the CIA has been given the task of locating the Winter Soldier_."

"He stayed hidden for years. We don't know his real name, or if he even remembers who he is." she announced quietly, tensing when she sensed that Ross had been annoyed by her interruption.

He waved away her unspoken apology. " _He was last seen in D.C., I want you to take the lead in the investigation as to his whereabouts. In between leads, you're to oversee the removal and search of the debris of the HYDRA base. We're looking for something specific. It'll all be in the packet the courier brings_."

In the kitchen, the coffeemaker gurgled through the end of its cycle. "I'm honored at your faith in me, Commander Ross." The scent of the coffee caused her stomach to grumble. "Sir, did Agent Areli also tell you that I haven't passed my quals yet?"

This time, his smile was genuine. " _Areli graded you during your last practice run. You passed with better than flying colors, Carter._ " Someone off-screen called his name. He nodded, and faced her again. " _You're expected at the CIA's main HQ at 0730 day after tomorrow_."

"I'll be there, Commander."

 **The Barton Farm**

Through the background noises of the kids playing in the yard, Laura peeled potatoes, and watched Clint pacing near the wood pile, wearing a mask of worry that could easily be pushed over into desperation. She hated seeing her normally laid-back husband fretting about something over which he had no control. And _that_ was his problem, his Persian flaw. His friends were in trouble, and by extension, so was he. However, he was out of it, except for the fact that his personal information had been dumped onto the Internet by his best friend, Natasha. She would never have gone to such measure to stop HYDRA, if it meant that Clint's family would be in danger. Of the Avengers, only Natasha knew of their existence.

With the destruction of the Triskelion, and SHIELD in disgrace, Clint's job as a spy had ended. The avenging would continue, though as a private entity bankrolled by Tony Stark. The Stark Tower was already known as the unofficial Avengers headquarters. Tony had even commissioned a squad of decorators to turn part of the penthouse level into apartments where the team could stay when in New York.

Clint shut off the phone, and came back inside, his boots thumping on the wooden floor. Laura set the peeler and potato on the counter, and Clint took over while she set the table.

"Well?"

"Not as bad as I thought." Clint finished the potato and started on the next. "All the s*** Nat dumped onto the Internet? Seems she and Fury had help segregating massive amounts of info. The program she used to upload the data sent SHIELD's most sensitive blocks of data to offsite storage while making it appear that it had all been put out there for the world to see. The HYDRA crap too. There are enough layers of encryption to keep even Bill Gates busy breaking the codes for years."

The potatoes were done, and Clint exchanged the peeler for a knife. In less time than it takes most people to wash their hands, he cut them into large chunks, rinsed them in cold water, and tossed them in with the carrots, onions and celery.

"You're sure Mr. Fury kept all mention of us out of the records?"

He nodded. "Checked it myself."

Laura walked behind Clint, dragging a hand across his shoulders. "You're good, Hawkeye, but you're not even close to being a hacker."

Her husband chuckled. "I'm not the one who did the hacking."

"Ah. That young man who sent the package. Good choice." Laura kissed him on the cheek. "Do me a favor, and finish getting dinner started. I'm gonna work on the book for a while."

"Sure. I'll send one of the kids in when it's ready."

The door to Laura's workroom closed with a silent click, and her eyes automatically went to the far left corner. There, her husband had installed a sort of panic room. It didn't appear on the home's blueprints on file with the county, and was fingerprint coded for Clint, Lila, Cooper, Natasha, Laura, and one other person. Sort of a designated survivor. All Laura knew about him or her was that Clint trusted his person with the lives of his family. Something that few people were afforded. Only Clint and Natasha knew the identity of their saving grace, and she was okay with that, as long as their family was safe.

She booted up the computer, accessed the file, opened the document she'd been working on, and opened the pad at her left hand so she could incorporate her notes into the story's outline.

Soon, Laura had sunk into the fictional world she had created for a series of children's books based on the exploits of the Avengers.

 **The Bat Cave**

Fury accepted coffee, and a muffin, waiting until they'd all been served to speak. "We've been mining HYDRA's data files, and came across a list of agents. Their influence goes even higher than I expected."

Using a finger to poke at his muffin, Steve slowly shook his head. "I thought we were rid of HYDRA when I killed Schmidt, and now I find out they've been here all along. Zola was right when he said I died for nothing." He exhaled loudly, and put his foot on the floor. "At least we have one of their highest-ranking officers."

Natasha pulled the top off her muffin, set it aside, and picked up the bottom. "If you're talking about Sitwell, that's a no-go. He escaped a few hours after he was admitted to the hospital."

"Why was he there in the first place? Barnes didn't hit him that hard," Sam added from where he was holding up the wall.

"He woke up just as we got to the hospital. When the gendarmes attempted to take him into custody, he complained about being shot a few days before." Fury shrugged one shoulder. "Just a precaution. Don't want him dying before we get to see his sorry ass prosecuted for his crimes."

Turning to the side, Hill smirked, telling Steve she had something up her sleeve. "You could say that Sitwell…"

Pushing off the wall, Sam waved a hand in warning. "Don't say it, Hill! Don't say it!"

Hill's smirk grew as she landed a zinger. "…flew the coup."

 **Undisclosed Location**

Sitting in the middle of the bare floor, Wanda concentrated on the stack of blocks, using her mind to move them around the room, one at a time then two, until she could move all of them at once. Now, she floated them in the air. Each week she got better at manipulating objects. Sometimes, it depended on the size. Her power wasn't yet strong enough to move anything more than a table or a chair. But that too was changing.

In the cell next to hers, she could hear Pietro bumping into the walls and furniture, knocking things over. Her twin hadn't yet learned to control his burgeoning powers. However, like her, he was improving.

The heavy steel doors at the end of the hall opened to admit two of the guards dragging a third man between them. His most distinguishing feature was his bald head. As they passed under the weak bulbs in the ceiling, his hairless dome briefly reflected the light.

Wanda crawled to the glass wall, pressing her cheek against it so she could see down the hall. The man was placed in the only empty cell, the last one on the opposite side from where she and Pietro stayed.

The guards stripped him to the skin then wrestled him into a pair of gray scrubs that resembled a prison uniform. While the twins weren't truly prisoners, they were kept in cells just as the others were to prevent the appearance of favoritism.

The newcomer's cell was locked, and the guards removed themselves from the area as if they thought they'd catch something vile if they stayed too long. When the door closed, and Wanda heard the locks engage, she called out. "Pietro."

Movement from next door stopped. " _I saw. Who is he?_ "

Closing her eyes, Wanda attempted to make contact. "His name is Jasper." She injected humor into her voice. "And he will _not_ be happy when he wakes up. Von Strucker and List have taken him prisoner to continue their experiments."

" _Then we are the only true volunteers. That's gives us some prestige among the 'subjects'_." In her mind, Wanda saw her brother making air quotes. She didn't need psionics for it though. Pietro grunted at another impact with the wall. " _Is it almost dinner time, sister? I'm starving!_ "

"You're _always_ starving, brother."

Pietro snorted a laugh. " _I'm a growing boy_." He sat on the floor. " _How much longer do you think we'll be here?_ "

"As long as it takes, Pietro. I know you're anxious to take your revenge. I am as well. We just have to be patient."

" _My patience is wearing thin_." Wanda heard him shift into a more comfortable position. " _Sometimes I am sorry we promised to remain on the base. I need to be outside in the fresh air where I can run_."

Taking a deep breath, Wanda sent him warm thoughts. "Soon, brother."

" _Patience, again? I'm tired of_ …"

" _Bud' spokoyen._ Jasper is waking up."

The twins went to the window to peer down the hall, waiting for Sitwell's reaction. In Sokovian, Pietro whispered, " _Say nothing about us being here of our own free will_."

Wanda snorted. "Just because you're twelve minutes older than me doesn't mean you're smarter."

From down the hall, a voice called out in English, " _Where the hell am I? What is this place? Guards!_ " He pounded on the glass wall. " _Guards!_ "

Of the subjects close enough to hear Sitwell's pleas, the only one besides Wanda and Pietro who could still speak, though barely.

" _It'll do you do good, my friend. Once von Strucker and his associates get ahold of you, this is where you'll stay_." It made Wanda's throat hurt to listen to him speak. She'd heard this before. His time would be up soon, and there would be another empty cell. At least until von Strucker found another "volunteer".

" _Where are we? How do you know von Strucker?_ "

Sitwell sounded desperate, angry and betrayed at the same time, and who could blame him? He woke up being held captive in a strange place, with no idea what was to come. Or perhaps he did, and that's where the desperation came in.

Wanda had no illusions that von Strucker's motives for the things he did were to better mankind. All he wanted was to show the world that HYDRA was superior in every way, and the experiments were designed to create enhanced humans who would be the advanced guard in the next phase of their bid to take over the world. The twins didn't share that vision. They were using von Strucker, just as he was using them. As long as it was beneficial to _them_ , they would continue to submit to the injections and testing.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and the guards came in with their dinner trays. Ignoring Sitwell's ranting, Wanda picked up the tray from where the guard had slipped it under the door, and scooted over to lean on the wall so she could keep talking to Pietro.

" _Bah!_ _Uzené again! Couldn't they give us American hamburgers once in a while?_ "

"When this is over, I'll buy you a dozen. And a chocolate milkshake. Now eat."

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Washington D.C.**

" _Muller to Carter. We've found them_."

Relieved that this part of the assignment would be over soon, Sharon tapped her headset. "What's the location?"

" _First sublevel, center of the building. The area's relatively stable now that the engineers are done with it_."

She replaced her hardhat, and picked her way down the stairs, following the path that had been cleared of debris. This was her first assignment for Ross, and she didn't want to screw it up. "I'll take my chances. How many?"

" _Six total in this room. More scattered throughout the complex. I make twenty so far_."

At the bottom of the stairs, Sharon stopped to read the notation on the door, automatically translating from Russian to English.

 _Laboratory_

 _Authorized personnel only_

Muller met her at the entrance. She took in the rubble-strewn room, catching sight of a dark patch that could only be blood. Someone had gone to great pains to destroy the complex. Too bad it didn't work. "We were told there would only be five, Muller."

"They lied." He scoffed. "Imagine that."

For the first time since Frankie died, Sharon felt the urge to smile. "Sarcasm level," she waggled her hand, "mid-range." Voices and footsteps announced the arrival of the extraction team. "There they are, gentlemen. Get 'em packed up for shipping. Ross wants them in South Korea this time tomorrow."

He gestured to the newcomers. "They'll be bagged and tagged by morning at the latest. The hard part is opening the tin cans. Might not make the deadline, but we'll do our best."

"Just let me know when they arrive."

"Yes, ma'am." Muller's tone indicated that he found the situation less than humorous.

Leaving the team to complete their extractions, Sharon returned to ground level. She removed her hardhat, brushed the dust from her clothes, and took out her phone as she stepped into the diffused sunlight of a cloudy afternoon. "Mr. Ross? Agent Carter here, sir… We found them… They're working on them now… Not until morning… Yes, sir. I'd already planned on accompanying them to the destination… I appreciate your faith in me, sir."

Ross hung up without saying good-bye. It was just as well, Sharon's ribs ached from all the climbing and digging in the rubble of HYDRA's D.C. base. _Too much too soon._

While the teams were clearing the site, Sharon had arranged for food and drinks to be on hand at all times. She opened one of the coolers, and grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water. From the pocket of her vest, Sharon took out a prescription bottle. She used the water to swallow two of the white pills, finished off the water, and picked up a protein bar to keep the nausea caused by the pain pills at bay. She had to make a good impression on Ross, or she'd end up in some icy substation in the Antarctic listening to China make plans to perform yet another atomic bomb test.

 **Seoul, South Korea**

Muller held out the tablet showing five blips. He lowered it, and looking into the cargo hold of the quinjet. Yup. Only three. His boots thumped on the ramp as he entered the ship. Taking out a frequency tracker, he methodically scanned the interior.

The beeps became a steady tone. Muller shut it off, shoved the device into the side pocket of his cargo pants. He squatted in front of the indicated compartment, opening it with a single touch, and digging among the contents until he found what he was looking for. Hidden among the gear, he found two round metal objects that had a red light blinking in the center.

Thumping came up the ramp, Muller already recognizing Carter's footsteps. "What did you find?"

He held out his hand, showing her the now inert trackers. "We had men on them at all times."

"You're sure you can trust them?"

"They've been a part of my team since I came to the CIA."

Carter stood, and turned in a circle. "Has a manual search been done?"

Shaking his head, Muller came up beside Carter. "I'll do it myself."

"I'll give you a hand." Together, they opened and searched each compartment, ending with the one hidden in the cargo floor.

Muller released the latches, and lifted the hatch. Carter came to his side. "Who is it?"

"Espenson." Something caught his eyes. Letting the hatch rest against the jump seats, he grabbed a handful of the man's shirt, lifting him just enough to see a second body underneath. "His partner, Norris."

"No one else comes on board. Get a forensic team in here ASAP. I want to know who killed them, how they were killed, and what happened to the other two crates." Carter got to her feet, the phone already in her hand, and dialing. "Mr. Ross? Sorry to bother you, sir. I'm afraid we have some bad news…"

Still inside the quinjet, Muller watched Carter take a pill with water, recap the bottle, and enter the hangar.

~~O~~

Standing to one side, Helen Cho supervised the arrangement of the three coffin-shaped crates. "Be careful. The equipment is delicate," she reprimanded the men.

Once they were placed to her satisfaction, she accepted the tablet, allowing her thumbprint to be scanned, and authenticated. The man, Muller, nodded to his team, and they filed out. She skimmed the information, puzzled. "Agent Muller, these are all the same. What happened to…"

"Sorry, doc. All we got are twigs and berries."

Confused, she squinted at him. "I don't understand."

"You will." Muller rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck on the left. "The other two were hijacked. Popular opinion is that somehow, HYDRA infiltrated my team. Whoever it was killed two of my men."

"I'm sorry, Agent Muller." She dredged up a smile. "Thank you."

The man nodded, and let himself out of the containment area while Helen booted up the system, and began the preliminary scans of the bodies retrieved from the explosion of the HYDRA base in D.C.

Her thoughts about what to have for dinner were interrupted by a bright flash in the sky, followed by thunder rolling over the landscape. Storms had been forecast for today, and Helen thought nothing of it until she heard a thump on the balcony that set her pulse racing.

To her staff, she said, "You can go for the night. I'll see you at eight."

As the door locked behind the last one, she darted into her office for a quick hair, clothes and breath check.

She removed her lab coat, brushed her hands down the sides of her skirt to smooth nonexistent wrinkles, and went to greet her guest.

He entered in a flurry of red, and silver, and swept her into his arms. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and when they parted, he smiled down at her. She returned it, one hand coming up brush errant strands of long blond hair from his face. "Hi."

"Greetings, fair Helen." His voice had a deep, throaty rumble that gave her goose bumps. Taking her hand, he drew her to the small sofa in one corner of her office. On the way, his red cape, silver body armor and boots changed to blue jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. He sat down, and pulled her onto his lap, his strong arms around her waist. "I've missed you."

Helen's hands slid up his firm chest, and around his neck. "I'm so glad you're back, Thor."

 **TBC**

The CIA qualifications used in this chapter are actually for the FBI.

 _B_ _ud' spokoyen_ = Be quiet

 _Uzené_ is smoked meat with potato dumplings, fried onions, and cooked spinach

 _Tangled_ is a 2010 American 3D computer-animated musical fantasy-comedy film produced by Walt Disney Animation Studios and released by Walt Disney Pictures, loosely based on the German fairy tale _Rapunzel_.

 _Despicable Me_ is a 2010 American 3D computer-animated comedy film from Universal Pictures and Illumination Entertainment that was released on July 9, 2010 in the United States. Gru is a supervillain who adopts three girls from an orphanage. Vector, a rival of Gru's, steals the Great Pyramid of Giza. When Gru learns of Vector's heist, he plans an even greater heist: to shrink and steal the Earth's moon.

 _Brave_ is a 2012 American 3D computer-animated fantasy comedy-drama film produced by Pixar Animation Studios and released by Walt Disney Pictures. Set in the Scottish Highlands, the film tells the story of a princess named Merida who causes chaos in the kingdom by expressing the desire to not be betrothed.


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 58**

 **North Carolina**

Wearing the typical SHIELD disguise of cap and sunglasses, Steve glanced at the television above the register. A news program came on, and his face had taken center stage. He paid for his purchases, and hustled from the store before he was recognized. After stopping for gas in Banner Elk, he turned the nondescript all-wheel drive vehicle onto a single-lane highway, following the directions Bucky had programmed into the GPS for him.

An hour passed in which he saw only a few other vehicles, mostly other all-wheel drive SUVs, trucks, and ATVs. A sign told him he'd passed from North Carolina into Tennessee. A short time later, he turned off the paved road onto a well-worn path filled with gravel that wound through the trees, at times seeming to double back on itself. A gentle looping curve brought him to a welcome sight: the cabin.

Sitting and staring at the building made of wood, Steve reflected on the path that had brought him to this point. Law enforcement, the press, and people who thrived on watching and hearing bad news had been looking for him since they realized that he was one of the major players who'd dealt a major blow to the country's intelligence infrastructure.

Huffing to himself, Steve got out, and went around to the back of the SUV. He opened the hatch, took out all the perishables, and carried them into the cabin.

Flipping on the lights, Steve was pleasantly surprised at the interior. From the outside, he'd have thought it would be primitive. No electricity, and no modern conveniences, with only a fireplace for cooking, and to provide heat.

The place was fully electric, with a stove, refrigerator, upright freezer, microwave, coffeemaker, blender, wi-fi, television, and a state-of-the art security system. Presumably, there was also a stash of weapons, just in case.

After putting the food in the refrigerator, he took himself on a quick tour. There were two bedrooms, a moderate sized bathroom, and, of course, a fireplace in which a fire had already been laid, ready for someone to touch match to tinder. Everything was clean and dust free. Even the wood floors shone as if recently waxed.

Bucky had obviously sent someone to prepare the cabin to be occupied. Steve sent his friend silent thanks, and returned to the SUV for the rest of the food, and his duffle bags. His plans for the next few days were to commune with nature, watch baseball, and miss Joi, who wasn't due back in the States for another week to ten days.

Only Bucky and Natasha knew where Steve had gone. They promised to tell Joi as soon as she got home. In addition, Natasha arranged for Steve's personal belongings to be packed and stored until he was ready to return to civilization, at which time, he and Joi would be living together, either in Washington, or New York.

Hands in his pockets, Steve went out onto the porch to take in the sights and smells of the forest that were free of city noises. "Definitely not Brooklyn." One side of his mouth turned up as he leaned against the post and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I could get used to this."

 **Ronald Reagan National Airport**

 **Arlington, Virginia**

 **Evening**

A porter followed Joi, Elyse, and Frank to the curb with their bags. Most of their luggage had been shipped due to the exorbitant fees the airlines had started charging for checked bags, so each of them only had one bag, and one carryon.

They hugged each other good-bye, and waved to Laz and Bella as their limo cruised by. Because their homes were in three different directions, the friends took separate Ubers.

Joi could barely contain her excitement. Though they'd Skyped several times a week the months she was gone, it wasn't the same as being able to touch Steve whenever she wanted, or feel his arms around her, and breathe in his scent.

She twisted her engagement ring nervously and her heartbeat sped up as the driver turned onto her street, and her condo came into view. She had wanted to surprise Steve by coming home a few days early. Still, it was disappointing that he wasn't there to greet her.

The driver set her bag on the curb, and she pressed a bill into his hand. "Thanks for the ride." He acknowledged her with a smile, and was gone before she opened the front door, calling out, "Steve?" just in case.

Sighing, Joi went into her bedroom, took her phone from a side pocket, and tossed the bag in the chair. She kicked off her shoes, flopped on the bed, and dialed her fiancé's number, looking at the phone in confusion when a recording told her it wasn't a working number. "Weird. I spoke to him a couple of days ago."

Grungy from more than eleven hours on a plane, not counting the layover, Joi stripped out of her clothes, leaving them in the middle of the floor. If Steve were here, he'd huff, pick them up, and take them to the laundry room.

Feeling better after a hot shower, Joi got dressed, grabbed her wallet and car keys, and headed for Steve's apartment. A moving truck was blocking the visitor's parking spaces so she used one of the assigned spaces.

Taking the stairs, Joi reached the fourth floor in time to see a man in his thirties leave the apartment across from Steve's without closing the door. She peeked in, seeing it was nearly empty, just a few boxes in the middle of the living room floor.

"Help you with somethin', lady?"

The young men were giving her suspicious looks. Stepping out of the way, Joi shook her head. "Just curious." She pointed her chin at the end of the hall. "Why aren't you using the freight elevator?"

The blond frowned with annoyance. "Out of order. Been that way a while according to the super. It's a pain in the neck, too. Second time we been here this week." He nodded at Steve's door. "Moved _him_ out Monday, and her out today."

Joi's confusion was back, and it brought company: a sliver of fear. She used her key to open the door, went inside, closed, and locked the deadbolt. Her eyes scanned the room. All the furniture was there, but all of Steve's touches, photos, books, little mementoes of their life together, were gone. The shield too. In the bedroom, she checked the dresser and the bathroom. Empty.

"Gramps and Nat'll know what's going on." On the ground floor, Joi pulled out her phone again. "Nat! It's Joi."

" _Radost' moya_ _!_ " Natasha exclaimed, her voice taking on that echoing quality that came with being on a speaker phone. " _James, it's Joi_."

" _Hey, baby girl. We've missed you. When did you get back?_ "

Joi grinned. Her grandfather sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. "A few hours ago. I tried to call Steve, but his phone number's been disconnected. What's going on?"

There was a long pause, and in her mind, Joi saw Gramps and Nat communicating without words.

" _Come to the house. We'll explain everything_."

"But Steve…"

Gramps broke in. " _He's fine. We'll talk about it when you get here. Are you hungry? We're ordering Julio's._ "

"I'll swing by Mom and Dad's first. Get me a #6, with extra guacamole and sour cream."

The call ended. The tone of both their voices was indisputable, the message coming through loud and clear. They didn't want to talk on an unsecured line.

On her way to her grandfather's, Joi tuned the radio to Steve's favorite station, the one that played mostly music from World War II. Yes, it reminded her of him, but she also enjoyed the nostalgic feel of a simpler, yet more complicated era.

She'd been on the highway only a few miles when she saw something in her rear-view mirror. That same motorcycle had been parked in the lot at Steve's apartment. Doing nothing to give away that she'd seen him, Joi planned her strategy.

At the next exit, she abruptly crossed three lanes of traffic, taking the ramp at way over the posted speed limit. _You're messing with the wrong girl, buster! I'll lose your ass in a heartbeat!_

~~O~~

It was serendipitous that Justin arrived at Steve's apartment just as Joi was leaving. He'd done research, and found out that her show, Rare Tastes, had been filming overseas for the past few months. The producers put them on hiatus for a few weeks so they could all go home to spend time with their families. He couldn't find any info on when they'd start filming again. What he did find was that Gramps, Natasha, Joi, and Steve had once again postponed their double wedding, or so said the gossipmongers of D.C.

When Joi got off the freeway, Justin knew his sister had spotted him. He peeled off, knowing she would head out to Springfield before going to Gramps and Natasha's.

Heading out to Serenity and Collin's house, he found his brother-in-law mowing the lawn while Serenity weeded the garden. They looked content, and though he wanted to let them know he was alive, he couldn't.

The mower shut off. Collin removed the catcher, and wheeled the mower into the garage. He came back with a leaf bag, dumped the contents of the catcher into it, tied the strings, and carried the bag to the curb with the rest.

Serenity got to her feet. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of dirt. Collin rushed to her side. _What's wrong?_

 _Just tired_.

He touched her abdomen, signing, _Sure you're not…_

She nodded, and pushed his hand away. _I'd tell you if I was, Col. It'll happen when it happens. I'm getting a shower, and starting dinner while you finish_.

 _You haven't told anyone, have you?_

 _We agreed not to, so no_. Touching him on the cheek, Serenity leaned in for a kiss before going inside.

Taken aback at the scene he'd just witnessed, Justin wanted to grin. The last he'd heard, they said they didn't want kids. _They've decided to have a baby after all. It's a secret, and I'm the only one who knows._ He got back on the bike, kicked started it, and drove away without any real destination in mind, not surprised to find himself outside the Sunshine Pilates Studio.

Using the heel of his boot, Justin put the kickstand down, and went into the greasy spoon across the street. From the window, he could see into the studio. Rey was teaching a class, walking around, giving encouragement, and adjusting a stance or position here and there. She stopped with her back to the window for a moment then returned to the front of the room.

He knew she wouldn't recognize him with the dark glasses, cap, and the hair, but he didn't want to tempt fate by staying too long. And yet, two hours later, he was still there, having drunk nearly a half-gallon of the barely palatable coffee while observing Rey interacting with her students.

She had an easy charm about her, innocence, compassion, and humor, mixed with determination, and incredible business savvy. Plus, a sweet smile, and sexy walk that used to drive him crazy. But with all that had happened to him, it was one part of his past he wouldn't ever get back, whether a woman or a man. He still wanted to know how she was doing, and if anyone had discovered his identity as the Winter Soldier, she would be hounded by the press, and law enforcement. Even though they would never be a couple again, he didn't want Rey to suffer because of him.

Movement at the studio caught his eye. The class had ended, and the students were streaming into the parking lot with Rey waving good-bye. She glanced his way, and Justin quickly ducked his head. When he looked again, she'd gone inside, and was drawing the shades. The neon signs in the windows went dark, and a few minutes later, Rey came out, got into her car, a new SUV. He waited until she'd driven out of sight before paying his tab, and returning to the abandoned church for the night.

~~O~~

Music designed to sooth frazzled nerves, promote a sense of calm and well-being flowed from the speakers. Rope lights ran around the baseboards of all the classrooms, the dim lighting adding to the effect. At the moment, they were white. On certain holidays, she would change them out. Red for Valentine's Day, green for St. Patrick's Day, pastels for Easter, orange, red, and yellow for fall, ice blue and white for winter, midnight blue for her birthday, and red and green for Christmas.

She circled the room, speaking softly. "Deep breath in… Let it out. Relax. Inhale… Let worry and stress flow out of you. Exhale… Feel your mind becoming clear, and lucid. Inhale… Think only about your breathing. Exhale… Now stand, feet pointed straight ahead, shoulder width apart, arms hanging at your side, chin to chest… Inhale into prayer position… Exhale… And we're done." Rey pressed her palms together. "Namaste."

There was a smattering of applause as she turned up the lights, slowly so their eyes would adjust. "Remember, I'll be closed Sunday and Monday to have the floors redone, and open regular hours the rest of the week." She held the door as her students left. "Everyone drive carefully."

When the last had gone, Rey locked the front door, and closed the blinds. She got a strange feeling that she was being watched. Stepping to the side, she used one finger to move the shade just enough so she could see the parking lot, the stores across from hers, and part of the street. There were a lot of people, but none seemed to be showing an inordinate amount of interest in her or the studio.

Thinking it must be her imagination, Rey shut everything down, checked that the back door was locked, and returned to the front. She picked up her gym bag, and car keys, set the alarm, let herself out, and locked the door. Still, the sense of being watched persisted. _You're getting paranoid, Medina. Just ignore it_.

Rey got behind the wheel of her SUV, buckled up, started the engine, and pulled into the street, one eye on the rear-view mirror. She didn't go straight home though. To make certain she wasn't being followed, she drove around until she got hungry then stopped for sushi to take home for herself and Cleopatra.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Joi crossed her arms, shifted her weight onto one foot, and tapped the heel of the other in a rapid rhythm. "I'd say the two of you were nuts, but that boat sailed long ago." She inhaled, and exhaled. "Those agents didn't say much about what happened here, just that it was bad. Steve filled in some of the blanks, but not all of them." Natasha patted the seat next to her. Joi finally sat down, and Bucky held her hand. "Is he really in that much trouble?"

"Yes and no." Bucky huffed. "He did stop HYDRA from killing twenty million people, and taking over the world. On the other hand, the method he chose cost the US its reputation, and our intelligent industry is in ruins."

Natasha made an overly dramatic sigh. "I'll have to go back to free-lancing. Trouble with being self-employed is no benefits. No medical, dental, vision, and no 401k." Her quip had the desired effect. Joi laughed.

"What about you, Gramps?"

One side of Bucky's mouth turned up in a rueful smile. "Attendance at the exhibit has increased nearly fifty percent. Everyone wants to know _everything_ about Captain America. It's keeping me busy."

Reading Joi's thoughts wasn't as difficult as the girl thought. Natasha knew what was on her mind. "At least they don't know where he lives."

"Speaking of… All his stuff's gone from the apartment. His neighbor was moving out today. The guy said Steve moved out last Monday."

"His things are in storage, baby girl. Steve wanted to get away for a while. A friend lent us a cabin." Bucky swiped his phone from the end table, and a moment later, Joi's beeped. "There you go. Steve has his phone, but the service in the area is iffy."

Excitement lit up Joi's face as she jumped to her feet. She kissed Bucky then Natasha on the cheek. "Thanks! I have to spend a couple of days at the café before heading out. When you speak to him, don't tell him I'm home. I want it to be a surprise. Love you!"

~~O~~

The door slammed behind Joi as Ryder came down the stairs. He looked at the door then at Mom and Dad as if to say, "Hoomans are weird", and went into the kitchen for a drink.

 **Mon Petit Café**

The café was nearly empty when Joi arrived, allowing her to enter without being noticed at first. She snuck up behind the manager, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Yo, Lupe!"

The older woman's face broke out in a big smile as she threw her arms around Joi. "Joi, _chica_! When did you get back?"

"Today. I'm so freakin' _exhausted_." She hitched a hip onto one of the tall stools at the bar, planted her elbow on the padded arm rest, and dropped her head into her hand. "Just wanted to check in, see how things are going."

Lupe went behind the bar, working with her back to Joi. She loved Lupe's accent, a mix of New York and Mexico. Soon, she turned, and set a drink on a napkin. Without looking, Joi took a sip, and choked. "What _is_ this?"

"Schnapps, ginger ale, slow gin, grenadine, and a splash of lime juice, garnished with mint leaves. It doesn't have a name yet." Lupe shrugged one shoulder.

Joi took another sip, and made a face. "It's vile!"

"Drink. You'll feel better." Joi did as she was told, and to tell the truth, by the time she'd drunk the last, it wasn't so bad. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, thinking about having another. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the main dining room. A stranger was sweeping the waiting area. Strange that he was wearing a glove only on the left hand. "Who's that?"

Craning her neck to see, Lupe smiled. "That's Finn. Poor boy's down on his luck. He's been in a couple times this past week, always close to closing so he can help with clean-up. Does all the heavy lifting. And I mean _all_ of it. In return, I feed him, and slip him a few bills. Offered him a full-time job, but he wasn't interested." She involved herself with closing down the bar while keeping up with the conversation.

Something about the way this Finn guy moved struck a chord, but Lupe was still talking, distracting her.

"Strong, smart, fast. Keeps to himself. Doesn't ask for more than what I give him. He sure can eat, so I give him seconds, and sometimes thirds. Not the kind of guy you'd think would be homeless. Caught him singing to the piped in music once, and he shut up. Don't know why. He's got a nice voice." Lupe leaned close, and grinned. "Has the prettiest blue eyes, and long lashes that are the envy of every woman. Every now and then, I catch a small hint of humor. Listens to conversations, and only joins in if someone speaks to him directly."

"Sounds like the perfect employee," Joi told her with a grin.

Lupe scoffed. "If only. He must have a job where he gets paid under the table because he comes in wearing different clothes each time. Thrift store threads. Always clean, and in good repair."

Finn picked up several bags of trash, and moved out of Joi's sight toward the back door that led to the alley. Deciding against another of Lupe's weird concoctions, she slipped off the stool, and took out her keys. "I'm wiped, Lupe. Need me some shut eye, and soon."

"Want a ride home? I'll get Finn to take you in my car."

Joi shook her head while covering a yawn with the back of her hand. "I'm good. See you tomorrow."

~~O~~

Keeping his head down so Joi couldn't see his face, Justin finished the mopping, and went to take the trash out. He tossed the bags in the dumpster, and let the lid down easy so it wouldn't make noise. The sound of her car starting up drew him to the entrance of the alleyway. With his back to the wall, he peeked around the corner, pulling back as Joi joined the traffic headed toward her condo. Shaking his head at himself, he thought, _I should've known better than to hang around this long_.

Justin wanted to see and speak to Joi and Serenity so badly he ached, not to mention the rest of the family. His mom had lost weight, and there was a touch of sadness around her eyes. But other than that, she looked good, nowhere near her real age of early sixties. All of their family took after Gramps and his slowed aging process. That meant they'd be around for a long time.

He went back inside, holding the door so it wouldn't slam at the sound of harsh, unfamiliar voices in the main dining room. One slow step at a time, he edged up to the kitchen doors. Through the small window, he could see two masked men holding Lupe, Reggie the dishwasher, and two of the servers at gunpoint.

" _Not gonna tell ya again, lady! Open the ******* register, and gimme all the cash_."

The shorter man chambered a round, aiming his weapon at the head of the young blonde who looked ready to pass out. " _Now! Or the_ chica _gets it. Five seconds. Four… three… two…_ "

 **TBC**

Greasy spoon is a colloquial term for a small, cheap restaurant, or diner typically specializing in fried foods. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the term originated in the United States, and is now used in various English-speaking countries.

The "vile" drink Joi consumes was made up by the author.


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 59**

A crash in the kitchen stopped the shorter guy from shooting the blonde, and angered his companion. "What the hell? You were supposed to check the back."

"I _did_. Weren't no one back there."

"Then you missed someone. Check it again." Holding the weapon out in front of him, the man made his way slowly to the kitchen doors. He looked through the window then eased the door open, and went in. Within seconds, the group heard the clatter of pots and pans, and a thump, followed by a groan, and the back door banging open. Lupe mentally grinned, and lowered her hands a few inches.

"Ferd? You okay? What's happening?" There was no response, so the would-be robber turned his anger on Lupe and the others. "What's goin' on? You said there weren't no other employees here."

Having grown up in the mean streets of Queens, Lupe wasn't easily intimidated. Her biggest concern was for her employees. "There aren't. It's just us." She cocked her head to the side in thought. "Maybe it's Captain America. He hangs out here with his friends. You might've heard of them. They're called the Avengers. Hasn't been around since the terrorist attack downtown, though. He could be," she lowered her voice menacingly, "anywhere."

The robber's gun hand shook just a little at the thought that superheroes could be arriving any moment. He turned and ran for the door.

Lupe expected to hear a car engine. What they heard instead was several crashes in a row that sounded like a car rolling down a hill. The four of them ran to the door to look out the window, their jaws gaping. The getaway car had been turned on its roof.

They heard the banging in the alley, and male voices screaming like little girls. Pushing out the front, they ran around the corner into the alley, finding it empty. Looking up, they found the two robbers hanging from the fire escape by one leg. Whoever had done it used the robbers' own belts.

"Reggie, call 9-1-1, and take your time about it. This little vignette needs one more thing. Call Joi too." The young man stepped away to make the calls while Lupe led the young girls over to the patio.

~~O~~

Joi hadn't made it all the way back to the condo when Reggie called. She touched the option on her car's screen. "This is Joi."

" _It's Reggie, Ms. Lockwood. Lupe says you gotta come back like really super-quick_."

Keeping her huff internal, Joi signaled for a turn. "Whatever it is can wait until morning, Reg. International travel isn't like driving across town."

" _Two guys tried to hold us up. The police are comin', and they'll wanna talk to you_."

When the light changed, Joi made a tire screeching U-turn, and hit the gas. "On my way!"

She ended the call to concentrate on driving, all the while repeating a word she learned while in France. " _Merde!_ Why couldn't they have waited until I'd at least gotten a nap?" A few more unsavory comments followed in a mix of English, Italian, and Russian.

~~O~~

Lupe heard the scuff of a shoe, and Finn was there, taking down several chairs he'd turned upside down on the tables during closing. He held the chairs for the girls while he and Lupe shared a look, then Finn faded into the darkness once more.

Reggie had just hung up the phone when Lupe came out of the office carrying a poster board with writing on one side. The drama had already drawn a crowd of people pointing, laughing and taking photos. She handed the poster to the one with the biggest mouth. "Hold this."

 _We're bad boys who tried to commit an armed robbery. Please put us away for a very long time._

Reggie snickered. "Criminal shaming. We need a pic." To the men, he said, "Smile for the camera, fellas." They blinked in the bright light of the flash.

The ringleader spun slowly in the slight breeze. "You wanna get us down?"

"Why _should_ we? You threatened to shoot us."

The other guy waved his arms until he faced Lupe again. "Wasn't really gonna do it. Just let us go, and we won't bother you again."

Smirking, Lupe said, "We'll let you down, but you're going to jail, _el pollino_." She went into the kitchen, and came back with a knife, which she handed to Reggie. The young man jumped onto the top of the dumpster, and boosted himself onto the fire escape. Lupe and the girls opened the dumpster's lid while Reggie cut through the belts around the men's ankles. They fell into the dumpster, the girls closed the lid, and the knife was returned to the kitchen so the chef wouldn't complain.

Sirens signaled the approach of two MPD squad cars. The crowd that had gathered backed out of the way as four uniformed police officers jumped from their vehicles, and ran to join Lupe and her people.

The officers opened the dumpster, and took in the scene for a few tense seconds, then the senior officer put in a call for a bus.

Though Lupe knew who'd bested the two men now wallowing in filth, they could truthfully say they didn't see a thing, because they hadn't. Only the results.

By the time their preliminary statements had been taken, Joi was back. She showed her ID to the officer working crowd control, and was let in. A little out of breath, Joi introduced herself to the officer still interviewing the blonde. "I'm Joi Lockwood, the owner. Is everyone okay?"

"Relax, Miss Lockwood, you and your people got lucky tonight. No one was hurt, and apparently, a Good Samaritan stopped these lowlifes from hurting your employees, and robbing your store."

Another officer joined them. "We'll need your staff to come down to the precinct to make a full statement, but that can wait till morning."

The men tipped their hats, and moved away. The companions grouped close together, and when the cops were out of hearing range, Joi blurted out, "Okay, what _really_ happened?"

Turning so the cops couldn't see her face, Lupe smiled, dropping her voice to a whisper. "It was Finn. The robbers came in the front while he was taking out the trash." She shook her head in wonder. "I knew that boy was strong, but didn't know he could flip a car on its roof all by himself."

The blonde crossed her arms. "Saw him pick up a table, flip it over, and stack it on top of another one. With _one hand!_ "

The fourth member of their group, a redhead in her late twenties spoke up for the first time since the robbers had broken in. "And why's he wear only one glove? Does he think he's Michael Jackson or something?"

"We're keeping his involvement just between us. Not a word to the cops. As far as they're concerned, we don't know nothing about nothing."

Joi shook her head in frustration. "I don't get it, Lupe. You've only met the guy a couple of times. Don't even know his last name. Why do you trust him so much?"

"Call it intuition, instinct, whatever. I can tell when someone's dishonorable, and Finn's a sweetheart, or I wouldn't have offered him a job."

~~O~~

Lupe held Joi's hand. "It's all under control, _niña_. When the _policía_ are done, we'll have a couple of drinks, and take Ubers home."

Joi propped her free hand on her fist, inhaled, and exhaled loudly. "That's a stellar idea, Lupe. I'll cover the Ubers."

There was a commotion in the alley, voices raised in anger, and annoyance. And soon, the police escorted the robbers to the back of what once might have been called a paddy wagon. They'd been lying in a pile of rotting food and grease from the pub across the alley. And because none of the cops wanted them in their service vehicles. Joi was glad they were downwind so they wouldn't gag on the smell. Suffice it to say, the men looked thoroughly chastised. Hopefully, this incident would put them on the right side of the law when they got out of prison.

The officer in charge sauntered over to stand next to their little group, watching until the wagon had left the scene. Two of the unnies disbursed the crowd, and sent the news hounds on their way as well. They backed off, but didn't leave the area. When Joi sent her friends home, she'd pay the drivers extra to make sure they weren't followed.

"We've completed our investigation, Ms. Lockwood. If we have more questions, we'll give you a call."

"Thanks, officer." They watched him get into his cruiser, and go.

Joi held the front door for the others, and was about to go inside herself when she heard footsteps in the alley. Even the news trucks had gone. The pub across the alley had closed at midnight. No one should be there.

She eased the door close, and quietly made her way to the corner. There, in the shadows behind the nail salon, something moved. It was too big and too quiet to be a dog or a cat, or even a rat. And with her resentment toward the men who'd broken in still close to the surface, it didn't take much to amp it up again. If the duo had been a trio, the police should be told.

With her back to the wall, Joi crept into the alley. Using the dumpster for cover, she peered over the top. Most people wouldn't have seen the figure in the darkness, but she was a Barnes. She saw.

One hand took out her phone, preparing to dial 9-1-1 again, when the back door opened, and Lupe's voice called out, "Joi? Come inside, _niña_. I'm making a couple of pitchers of that drink you liked so much."

Her cover blown, Joi came out from behind the dumpster, and stepped into the small pool of light over the back door. "I'm here, Lupe. Thought I saw someone hiding back here."

The older woman craned her neck, searching the area. "I don't see anyone." Then, she smiled. "Oh, it's probably Finn. I thought he left." She stepped fully into the alley. "Finn? _Mijo_ , are you there? Come meet Ms. Lockwood."

The shadow within a shadow didn't move, and Joi didn't blame him. His situation had to be embarrassing, a young man who should be eating at the finest restaurants in town, was instead begging food from whomever would give it to him.

Joi joined Lupe at the door. "If he doesn't want to meet me, let him be. Let's go get our drink on."

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Undisclosed Location**

Colonel Rybakova and his right-hand man, Dedov watched the technician run through the program for the third time.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. The transponder is designed to stop transmitting when the subject is deceased. This one went dark during the failed coup in Washington."

Rybakova's eyes met von Strucker's. "Your Winter Soldier is no more, doctor. We'll need another."

The scientist didn't seem the least bit intimidated by Rybakova, though he had to know of his reputation, had seen his handiwork when he'd been a member of the KGB's Death Squad. The man's air of superiority irked him, but, he'd let it go for now. At least until the new leader had settled into the position.

Hands behind his back, von Strucker paced to the other side of the room to stand next to Dr. List. "That's not as simple as you make it sound, Colonel. We were only able to retrieve two of the five from the base in Washington. One male, and the only female, and they've been dead too long."

"Then use the TAHITI program to bring them back." Apparently, von Strucker wasn't nearly as intelligent as he'd been led to believe, or he would've already begun the process.

Von Strucker shook his head. "They were shot through the head while still in their cryogenic state. The damage done to their brains is extensive. Too much so to make the attempt. If we were to revive them under these conditions, they would have the minds of children locked in enhanced bodies, and with all the deadly skills of an assassin. Controlling them was difficult before. Now, it would be impossible."

At von Stryker's refusal of his command, Rybakova's right hand had automatically wrapped around the grip of his service weapon. But seeing as it would only hinder HYDRA's plans for the future if they were to lose their preeminent scientist, he refrained from killing him. At least for now. "Then create a new one."

The two scientists exchanged a look, the shorter one nodding slowly, as if they were communicating telepathically. Von Strucker smiled. "We already have a candidate in mind, Colonel."

List nodded to the technician. "Bring up the feed for Subject 497."

The face on the monitor was familiar to both military men, though they'd only met a few times. Now, he lay on a thin mattress, wearing the dull gray scrubs given to all subjects of von Strucker's experiments. Rybakova had found the man to be an annoying, prattling sycophant. What the Americans called a suck-up, or brown-noser. It would be quite satisfying to watch Jasper Sitwell being forced to become the new Winter Soldier.

 **Tennessee**

When he first arrived, Steve had relished the idea of being alone, doing what he wanted when he wanted. No one around to disturb his thoughts. No one to give him orders. Just the forest, the sky, and the animals.

He found a fishing rod in one of the closets, and had spent many hours just sitting on the shore with his line in the water, hoping for a bite. And he'd gotten many. However, he'd been informed that this lake was a catch and release.

On his third day of fishing, Steve brought the rod, and left it propped against a tree. The next day, he left the rod at the cabin, and brought only food and drink. Picnics were great, under the right circumstances. His life at the moment was far from perfect because Joi wasn't with him. And that gave him an idea.

Inside the cabin, Steve booted up the computer, and dived onto the Internet to do research. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. He clicked on the link, and filled out the form using all the proper IDs, and even paid the full price up-front. His eagerness and anticipation soared at the thought of what Joi would say. The chances of her shooting his idea down were non-existent, considering it had originally been her idea.

The confirmation of receipt of the form and his payment arrived within five minutes. Even though it was dark, Steve needed to work off the nervous energy that now permeated his body.

In the front yard, he took off his button-front shirt, and the white sleeveless t-shirt he wore under it, exposing his bare chest to the chill common in the mountains at night. He pulled the ax from the tree stump, set a log on end, and got to work chopping wood.

 **Mon Petit Café**

The back door to the café closed, and Justin breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to hug his sister, and tell her about all the horrible experiences he had since they'd last seen each other. He wanted her to tell him that everything would be okay, just like she'd done while they were growing up. Joi had been the best big sister that any guy could ever hope for. But the fact that he couldn't be sure of his own mind kept him away.

Mentally kicking himself for coming back when he knew there was the possibility of Joi showing up, Justin slowly stood, and moved out into the open, ready to duck out of sight, if need be. As he passed the café's back door, it opened, and the moment he'd been hoping for and dreading at the same time happened.

"I knew you were there, Finn. I could see you." Joi's voice was just as he remembered it. Soft, yet firm, with the barest trace of a New York accent from spending so much time with Gramps. "Please come inside. I'd like to thank the man who saved my friends."

Ignoring the little voice inside his head that told him to run, Justin stood with his back to Joi. Not responding would be rude. Reaching back into his memory, Justin pulled out one of the many artistic talents he'd honed over his lifetime, choosing a Scottish accent. "Yer welcome, miss. I got t' be on m' way now, if ye dinnae mind."

He realized his mistake at hearing Joi's sharp intake of breath, giving himself a mental head slap. The door shut with a click, and his sister's footsteps brought her to within a few feet of him. Turning his head only far enough to see her without letting her see his face, he waited for her to speak, and trying to ignore his inner voice. _Coming here was a mistake. I should go before…_

"Justin?" His sister's voice was soft, breathless. Filled with shock and disbelief.

"Sorry, miss. Ye got th' wrong man." With that parting comment, the inertia in Justin's legs let up, and he headed for the alley's entrance. It was possible that the hair and beard were enough to disguise his features, but he couldn't take the chance.

A glance over his shoulder proved what his ear had told him. Joi had gone back inside. But his relief was short-lived, ending when he faced forward again, only to find his way blocked by Joi. Her hands were curled into fists, and her expression did not bode well for him, or anyone else who got in her way.

"It _is_ you."

Not trusting his voice, he shook no. Before he could move her hand shot out to grab his right arm. She turned it over, and found all the proof she needed. On the inside of his wrist was the Chinese character for soul. "Then explain this. My brother had the words heart and soul tattooed on his wrists three months before…" Joi's eyes filled with tears, and she couldn't finish.

Justin jerked his arm free, stepped around her, and walked away.

~~O~~

The air in Joi's lungs had turned to cement. That's the only reason she could think of for her inability to breathe. Or, a more likely explanation would be hearing her dead brother's voice coming from a man she'd never met. If he was an impostor, or playing a cruel joke, he'd missed something very important: she knew Justin inside and out. Had been there for all his triumphs, and tragedies. The good days, the bad days, and the truly horrible days.

Joi raced through the café, and out the front door to confront him. It didn't go nearly as well as she hoped.

Justin didn't respond to her non-question about the tattoo. He pulled free, and walked away without letting his face be seen. She let him get about thirty yards before calling out, "Justin!"

He stopped halfway into the automatic turn at the sound of his name, his eyes widening in the overly dramatic "Oh, shit!" stare he used when he'd made a major, and very public, _faux pas_. As she approached him, he started walking again, faster and faster. Using the "you're in _big_ trouble, pal" tone she learned from their mother, Joi yelled, "Justin Phineas Lockwood! Get your _ass_ back here!"

Instead of obeying, he broke into a run, and Joi pursued him relentlessly. In the past, they had been nearly evenly matched physically, with Justin slightly faster and stronger. Within seconds, he'd gained a substantial lead. Infuriated, she pulled out the nickname she'd given her brother when they were kids. "Don't you dare run away from me, Linus!"

A few blocks later, Justin turned a corner, and by the time she reached the same spot, he'd disappeared. She didn't know where he'd been, or what had happened to him in the years the family thought he was dead, but by her estimate, Justin could now outrun Steve and Gramps.

Looking at her surroundings, Joi discovered that she'd chased her brother for over a mile before he got away. Resigned to not getting answers tonight, from Justin at least, she returned to the café.

After seeing her employees safely on their way, she went back to the bar, and drank the entire pitcher of that revolting drink Lupe had made. "What the hell am I gonna tell Mom and Dad?"

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Rolling away from Bucky, Natasha felt around on the nightstand for her phone. Without looking at the caller ID, she muttered, " _Da?_ "

" _Nat?_ "

The tone of Joi's voice brought Natasha awake faster than being doused with cold water. "Why are you calling so late, _malenkaya_? Is something wrong?"

" _I'm in the driveway._ _I need to talk to you and Gramps_ _now_ _._ "

"We'll get dressed, and be right down." Natasha hung up, and shook Bucky awake.

He rolled over, blinking in the light from the phone still in her left hand. "Huh? Whass goin' on?"

Natasha pushed the cats off, got out of bed, and went into the closet. When she came out, she tossed clean clothes at Bucky, and carried her own into the bathroom, leaving the door open. "At a guess, I'd say Joi found out about our lie of omission."

Bucky flicked on the bedside lamp, and sat up. He left on the t-shirt he'd worn to bed, pulling a long-sleeved shirt over it. Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, he stood up to change into jeans. "Damn. We should've told her when she was here earlier."

"It was your idea _not_ to tell her."

He snorted, annoyed with her pointing out the obvious. "Okay, fine. I was wrong. That want you want to hear?" Natasha stood in the bathroom doorway brushing her hair. Bucky was on his hands and knees, looking under the bed. "Damn cats stole my slippers again."

"Wear the ones Gracie gave you." She sailed a pair of fuzzy slippers through the air to land next to Bucky. Though still annoyed, he put them on as they left the bedroom, hopping on one foot then the other.

Bucky opened the door, and Joi bulldozed her way in, going to the living room, where they found her pacing angrily back and forth. Before either of them could speak, Joi took an aggressive posture, arms crossed, and forehead creased with outrage. "I have questions, and know you have the answers."

"I saw Justin tonight." Joi's statement hung in the air between them, the anger giving way to tears. "How long have you known my brother was alive?" She held up one finger. "And think carefully before you answer. This is a make or break deal. I'm not kidding."

Underneath her words, Natasha heard what Joi didn't say. If they lied to her again, whether outright, or by omission, it would take a long time for her to forgive them. Natasha wondered how long it would take for her to forgive Steve.

 **Abandoned Church**

Justin reached his hideout in record time. He let himself in, closed and secured the door then leaned against it, breathing hard. Not from physical exertion. No, this was emotional.

"Idiot! You should've stayed away." He crossed to the nursery, taking off the glove and both shirts on the way, dropping them in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes. In the bathroom, he leaned his hands on the edge of the sink for a moment, taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he splashed cold water on his face while once more going over his reasons for staying away from his loved ones. His top priority was and always would be their safety.

"Or you could've _talked_ to her, you a******. Explained why…" He dried his face, forearms and chest. The red surgical scars that branched out from the edge of his metal arm. They seemed to pulse with a life of their own. A stark reminder that he no longer was the same man his sister had known all her life, taunting him. "Gah! Who are you kidding, Lockwood? Joi would never accept that she won't be seeing you again."

An ache surrounded his heart, expanding to encompass his entire body. The backs of his eyes stung, and tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks. "Why did they do this to me? _Why?!_ "

Justin curled his metal hand into a fist, and with a bellow of pure rage, drove it into the mirror.

 **TBC**

 _Merde_ \- Shit

 _Niña_ \- Little girl

 _Mijo_ \- In some parts of the world, _mijo_ is a mildly vulgar swear word, piss. In this context, it means _my son_.

 _El pollino_ \- idiot, donkey


	60. Chapter 60

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 60**

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

"…and until tonight, that's the last anyone's spoken to him." At the start of their story, Joi collapsed into the armchair in the corner, and kept her eyes glued to a spot a few inches in front of her nose, taking everything in.

Now that Bucky and Natasha had finished, she stood in the middle of the living room, seemingly uncertain if she wanted to go, stay, or do something else entirely. Bucky went to stand in front of her, his hands lightly gripping her upper arms. "Don't take it out on Steve. We, all of us, we're only abiding by Justin's wishes, baby girl. It wasn't meant to keep you in the dark. I'm sure Steve would've told you eventually."

Joi looked up at him with such sadness he pulled her against his chest, and just held her. He expected tears or ranting, something besides this calm nothingness. "Did Justin say _why_ we shouldn't look for him?"

Bucky released Joi when Natasha came to their side. "Speculating here. He may believe, though he remembers who he is, that he's still dangerous to the people around him, or he's still coming to terms with what HYDRA did to him, and needs to work it out before coming home."

Joi hung her head. "I feel like an idiot, going all diva princess prima-dona on you, like you should stop saving the world just to tell me my brother's alive."

"That's something you should hear in person. Imagine finding out a loved one died by text." Natasha mimed texting. " _Nazis are trying to take over the world. We stopped them, but Steve and I are out of a job. Oh, BTW, your dead brother isn't dead. Let's do lunch next week._ "

After a moment of laughter, Bucky's granddaughter gripped handfuls of his shirt, her eyes wide. "Oh, my _God_ , Gramps. If the Winter Soldier was responsible for assassinations committed in the last fifty years, does that mean _you_ killed all those people? Does it mean _Justin's_ been doing it for the last two years?"

"'Fraid so, baby girl." He looked at his fiancée, and smiled. "If it wasn't for Natasha, I'd probably still be in that holding cell on the helicarrier."

"Not that it did much good, James." Natasha tugged his sleeve, and the three of them returned to the sofa, with Joi sitting between them. "That cell was built to contain the Hulk, and you broke through the door like it was a tin can."

The patter of cat feet on the stairs preceded Ryder's appearance. The black and white cat jumped up on the coffee table, sat down, and glared a hole in Joi's forehead. Instead of being offended, she smiled, and rubbed his ears, surprised when he purred. "That your way of telling me to get lost, Ryder?"

Bucky hugged Joi to him, and kissed her temple. "I know you have more questions now than when you got here. We'll talk about it later."

With Natasha holding her hand, Joi nodded, and accepted a kiss on the cheek. "I do have one more question." She looked at Bucky's foot resting on the knee closest to her. "Why are you wearing pink bunny slippers?"

~~O~~

The door closed behind Joi. Natasha hugged Bucky while Ryder entwined himself around their legs, meowing his displeasure with the interruption in their bedtime routine. They looked up, and the other cats were watching from the second-floor balcony.

"She'll be okay, James."

"Yes, she will. I just wish there was more we could do." He squeezed tighter. "It's so hard not being able to tell Carolyn and Martin that their son is alive. Can't imagine it's any better for the others, especially Chase."

Natasha agreed. "Off the subject. I've had something on my mind the last few days."

"Want to tell me about on the way to bed?" She stepped out of his arms, keeping hold of his hand until they reached the bedroom. "We need some time away. Let's take a few days, go on a trip."

Bucky hooked one arm around her shoulders, using that to guide her to the bed. The vibrations of his chest where touched along the side gave her a feeling of comfort. "We'll go anywhere you want. Pick a place, and we're there."

Tilting her head back so she could see his eyes, Natasha smiled affectionately, and reached up to touch his cheek. "Las Vegas."

 **Abandoned Church**

The mirror shattered, the cracks radiating out from the point of impact. Slivers of glass fell into the sink, the tinkling sound reminding him of the bells Joi wore on her skates when they were kids. Tears dripped from Justin's chin into the sink, mixing with the shards. He used an old towel to scoop them out, and tossed it in the trash can. When he came back, he splashed water on his face again, and dried off without looking at himself in what was left of the mirror. Going to the bedroom, he stripped off the rest of his clothes, moved the mattress into the corner, and lay down with his back pressed against the wall, and just a sheet covering his naked body.

Slowly, the feelings of sadness, despair, and sorrow lessened. They didn't go away entirely, though he'd stopped crying. A line from Shakespeare hovered just within reach. "I burn, I pine… I perish."

Lucentio had been talking about his love for Bianca in _The Taming of the Shrew_. To Justin, it was a fitting phrase, one that accurately described his life. It illustrated that he was descending into depression, but had no idea how to go about getting help. Anyone he had prolonged contact with could be in danger. And he doubted connecting with a psychologist online would do him much good.

Just thinking about therapy reminded him of a conversation he'd overheard. Volkov and Rybakova had been discussing Dr. Heath, and how he'd used his skills as a hypnotist to control Gramps, and then him. Considering that Justin had no memory of ever attending therapy sessions with the man, he speculated that the memories of those visits had been blocked by post-hypnotic suggestions, the same as with Gramps.

Justin wanted to shut down his mind, do a hard reboot, and hope for the best. But the human brain didn't work that way. No matter how often Chase compared it to a computer, you couldn't turn it off, and back on.

The gratitude he felt toward Zeya for releasing him from the HYDRA's hold warred with bitterness and anguish. Before, he had no memory of what he'd lost. In fact, he'd felt little emotion at all in between the times he spent in the cryochamber. Being free was a blessing, _and_ a curse, because now he had to live with the knowledge of the things he'd been forced to do.

Unable to stay awake any longer, Justin's brain and body shut down.

Hours later, he bolted from his bed, thinking he'd heard someone breaking in. He dressed himself in a grayish-green long sleeved t-shirt, black pants, socks and black sneakers, purchased just the day before. The clothes were a little big; hanging loose on his lean frame, giving him freedom of movement.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, Justin looked at the smashed mirror, seeing it as a symbol of his hopes and dreams, and how they all went wrong. "Seven _more_ years of bad luck, Lockwood. It should all blow over somewhere around 2032."

He opened his stash of weapons, chose a nine-millimeter handgun, and checked that it was fully loaded. Holding it in his right hand, he searched the entire building again, ending with the altar at the front of the nave. This time, he didn't do a simple walkthrough. He poked into every nook and cranny, in some instances disturbing some of the local pests who'd taken up residence here as well. He snorted quietly. "Birds of a feather, my friends. Guess that makes _me_ a pest too."

Without knowing what had disturbed him, Justin couldn't go back to sleep. He crouched in the aisle, of the nave, midway between the altar and the exit. The incident with the mirror brought up the memory of a song that had been popular long before any of the Barnes grandchildren had been born.

 _Very superstitious_

 _Wash your face and hands_

 _Rid me of your problem_

 _Do all that you can_

 _Keep me in a daydream_

 _Keep me going strong_

 _You don't wanna save me_

 _Sad is the song_

 _When you believe in things you don't understand,_ _  
_ _Then you suffer,_ _  
_ _Superstition ain't the way_

~~O~~

Morning came, the sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows throwing rainbow colored smudges on the dirty floors, and rotting carpet. It reminded Justin of the church he'd attended as a child. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still believed there was a God, and that He had a plan for each of us.

He stopped attending services with the family after hearing the pastor's sermon on the evils of homosexuality. From the way he spoke, his tone, and body language, the pastor had given Justin the impression that he thought you weren't born gay, that it was a lifestyle choice. Bigoted rhetoric of that sort had plagued him most of his life. More so after he came out. He and his siblings had been raised to accept people for who they are, and not make snap, or off the cuff judgements without getting to know the person first.

An empty feeling in his stomach sent Justin on a quest for food. Only today, he would stay far away from his sister's café.

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Washington D.C.**

"Special Agent Carter?" Sharon looked up from her tablet as one of the engineers clearing the rubble jogged over to her. He held out a partially burned book. The cloth cover was red, and on the front, was a black star. "This was in a safe in the lab where the bodies in the cryochambers were found. Had to blow the lock."

She took it from him, carefully turning the pages. Much of the handwriting was still intact, and relatively easy to read, if one knew Russian, which she didn't. "Good work,Vilhjalmsson. Now all we need is someone to translate."

The young man snorted and grinned at her pronunciation of his last name, and shoved one hand into his pants pocket. "Call me Tag, ma'am. Everyone does. And I know Russian."

Sharon passed the book back to Tag, and as she'd done, he used great care in turning the pages. "You can see here, ma'am, that the writing on these pages appears to be much more recent than," he flipped to a page near the front, "this. There are several lists of words that are used to control the Winter Soldier. From the notes, the words must be spoken in a specific order, and in Russian. Other than those conditions, it doesn't appear that it matters who says them."

In the midst of taking a pill for the ache in her ribs, Sharon motioned for him to continue.

"The first list is to recall the Winter Soldier, so I'm assuming that he, or she, was being groomed for the job while still living their life, totally unaware. Then once he or she was at the base, the activation list came into play. Want me to read it?"

"Yes."

Tag cleared his throat. " _Boynya_ , _udary_ , _syem_ , _dyshat'_ , _derevnya_ , _peshchera_ , _solnechno_ , _ekho_ , _dvoynik_ , _dusha_. In English, shambles, pounding, seven, breathe, village, cave, sunny, echo, doppelganger, and soul."

"Do these words have any special significance to the Winter Soldier?"

"There's nothing notated here. We'd need to know the identity of current one in order to make that determination, ma'am."

Sharon huffed. "Stop calling me ma'am, Tag. It's Carter when we're on duty, and Sharon on downtime."

The man nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, Carter."

"How much longer do you think until the job's complete?" She could see the man doing calculations in his head.

"Couple of weeks at the most."

The deep breath Sharon took pulled at her ribs. Even through the pain meds, it still hurt. "Good. Get back to work while I sweet-talk the boss."

He handed over the book, replaced his hard hat, and went back inside.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Chase let himself into the house, and was immediately set upon by mewling and complaining cats, even before he could close the door. "Sorry I'm late, kids." They continued to cry, sounding pitiful and demanding at the same time. "Your mom and dad wouldn't tell me where they were going. All they said was they'd be back in a few days with a big surprise for the family."

He stepped over them, and went into the kitchen. Priscilla got up on the counter, while the rest sat in the doorway glaring at him as if the absence of Gramps and Natasha was his fault. Chase huffed as he took out several cans of tuna, and portioned it onto plates to the accompaniment of more loud meowing. "Won't they be pissed when they get home and find out I only fed you tuna the entire time?"

Nearly tripping over Archie and Penelope, Chase carried the plates to the feeding station. He set them on the floor, and backed away, watching them devour their meal. "When you're done eating, and have concluded your post-meal ablutions, we'll go out on the catio for a while."

As expected, the cats didn't respond. Chase shook his head. "I get _no_ respect."

 **Tennessee**

 **Two Days Later**

Joi purposely timed her arrival in the middle of the day so that Steve would be well rested because she planned on wearing him out. She parked next to his SUV, and got out. The cabin and surrounding area were even more beautiful than Gramps had described. She closed her eyes, and inhaled, filling her lungs with air that smelled as if no human had ever set foot here.

And whoever had created the path to the cabin was to be applauded. The road curved around, winding through the trees, until suddenly, there it was. No hints, no teasing, no possible glimpses through the trees. It was suddenly just _there_ , in all its glory.

With her bag over one shoulder, Joi climbed the steps to the porch, turning in a circle so she could take it all in without Steve's distracting presence. Once Steve arrived, she planned on them being too busy to take in the view.

She was about to let herself in when the thump and rustle of heavy footsteps, _familiar_ footsteps, came through the forest. The bag was dropped in a chair, and she stood at the top of the steps to wait. Excitement and anticipation made her chest feel tight.

And then, there he was, the man she loved more than life itself. He had his head down, hands shoved in his pockets, kicking leaves and rocks as he walked.

"Steve!"

He looked up, and their eyes met. "Joi!"

The smile that brightened his face matched hers. They ran toward each other, and when she got close, she threw herself at him. His arms lifted her into the air, and their lips touched for the first time in more than four months.

 **After Dark**

Steve reclined on the sofa, one leg on the seat, and the other on the floor while Joi made herself comfortable between his thighs. The fire, and steaming cups of hot cocoa with marshmallows, chased away the chill of the evening. She leaned against his chest, and let her head drop back onto his shoulder.

Tilting her head up with his finger under her chin provided access to her lips, which he took full advantage of by kissing her, long and sweet.

"You know, when I saw Justin the other night, somehow I just _knew_ that Gramps, Nat, and you had seen him too." Joi trailed her finger over the back of Steve's hand where it lay on her stomach. "They told me about Chase and Mia being in on it when I confronted them. And some guy named Sam. I gathered he's a new friend."

"Were they upset with you for giving them hell?"

She sipped her cocoa, and shook her head. "Not at all. They understood what a shock it was, seeing him at my restaurant. I'm apologized for going off on them the way I did. Being out of the country for so long, we had no idea just how bad things were. I could see the devastation from the highway on my way home. It was horrible."

Steve cuddled Joi closer. "It was worse being in it." He finished off his cocoa, and set the cup on the end table. "Why didn't anyone at the café recognize him?"

"We've had a lot of staff turnover the last couple of years. And he looks nothing like the photos in my office. He gave Lupe the name Finn, and I didn't think about it at the time, but when he was about eight or nine, he decided to embrace his detested middle name of Phineas by having everyone call him Finn." She slurped another sip of cocoa. "Didn't work out, so he went back to Justin."

"We talked it over while Chase was in the hospital, and made the decision to abide by his request, at least for now. Give him a chance to achieve a sense of balance before going after him. Until you saw him, we had no idea he was still in the area."

Picking up the small sketch pad on the coffee table, Joi examined the drawing Steve made of Justin as he'd seen him on the helicarrier. "He really has a metal arm?"

"He does. The design reminds me of that strange rash Bucky had before Bruce broke his programming, probably caused by something similar that slipped over his left arm. We saw Justin do some amazing things with his, and that may have been the purpose for the one they used on Bucky."

Joi handed him her cup, and he placed it next to his. She rolled over onto her stomach. "You have that look in your eyes again, Steve."

"It's call _love_ , Joi. I love you so much, I want us to get married, and start a home together as soon as possible."

Her fingers gently touched his cheek. "But the venue we wanted won't be available again until next summer, if they even want us back after cancelling twice."

"Doesn't matter, Joi. I can't wait that long to be your husband." Steve reached under the sofa cushion and pulled out an envelope. "Open it."

She sat up, and pulled out a single sheet of paper, unfolding it with hands that shook. Her eyes scanned the page, and a smile that rivaled the one from this afternoon lit up her features. She threw herself on top of him again, kissing him like she would never stop.

When they finally came up for air, Joi said the only word that meant anything to Steve at the moment. "Yes!"

"If you're up to it, we'll leave tomorrow, and drive there. Or I could pull in a favor, and see if Tony will lend us the use of one of his private jets."

Her nimble fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt. "Whatever. We can talk about it later, because I'm about to have my way with you, and your life will never be the same."

Steve stilled her movements by lifting one hand to his lips for a kiss. "My life hasn't been the same since you poured me that first cup of coffee."

"Ditto. Now shut up and kiss me."

~~O~~

Steve slipped out of bed, gathered his clothes from the floor, and went into the bathroom to get dressed. Examining his face in the mirror, he decided he liked the scruff of beard that covered his cheeks and chin, and the longer hair. As long as Joi didn't complain, he was good to go.

He padded out to the living room in his stocking feet, took a seat at the desk, and booted up the computer. Accessing Skype, he sent a request to Tony that was accepted within seconds, almost as if he'd been waiting. Steve knew that wasn't the case, though. His teammate had been having a tough time dealing with the events in New York, and the aftermath, spending most of his time in the lab.

" _Greetings. What can I do you for?_ "

Tony had drawn Bruce into his madness as well. Steve could see him moving around in the background, a pen clenched in his teeth, and an intense look of concentration on his world-weary face. "I need a favor, but you can't ask why."

" _Speak, and it shall be done,_ _Old Man_."

"I need the use of one of your private jets."

The billionaire picked up a piece of equipment, and a tool. " _Where are you?_ "

"Tennessee, near the North Carolina border."

" _Keeping it on the downlow, huh?"_ Tony seemed to think it over longer than Steve deemed necessary. " _Jarvis, have the Cessna prepared for Cap's use_." He faced the camera again. " _The Cessna is currently at a private airport in Knoxville. It's last years' model, but will get you from point A to point B and back without a problem. Jarvis will have it fueled up and ready for takeoff by noonish tomorrow_."

A feeling of relief settled over Steve. He rested the left ankle on his right knee, and leaned back. "Thank you, Tony. I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

" _I'll be waiting_."

The screen went dark, and Steve remained seated, thinking about the plans he and Joi had made. He wasn't having second thoughts. Not really. He wanted to do this, and Joi had agreed.

Pushing back from the desk, Steve spied a flaw in the underside of the table he'd never noticed before. Running his fingers over it gave him the general shape of a control panel. He traced the edges until he came to a small button. When pressed, the panel uncovered several smaller buttons.

Experimentally, he pressed one, turning sharply when the wall opened to show it had been hiding a high-tech computer system. He pressed a different button, and the monitor came on, displaying the words, "Connecting to the director", and was accompanied by a ten-second countdown. When it reached zero, the video cleared, showing an empty desk, and chair, with even more sophisticated equipment in the background.

Out of range of the camera, a door opened, and closed, and a moment later, a man seated himself at the desk. His smile dimmed when he saw Steve.

" _Captain Rogers. How did you connect to this channel?_ "

Steve got to his feet, and moved closer to the monitor, unable to hide his shock and surprise. "A better question might be how are you alive? I saw you killed on board the helicarrier during the battle with the Chitauri."

The other man took a deep breath, and let it out. " _That's a long story, Steve_."

Shock gave way to a sliver of anger. "Then CliffsNote it for me… Phil."

 **TBC**

"I burn, I pine, I perish."  
—Lucentio in _The Taming of the Shrew_ , Act 1, Scene 1

 _Superstition_ is a popular song composed, produced, arranged, and performed by Stevie Wonder for Motown Records in 1972.


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 61**

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Somewhere in Eastern Europe**

The mood of the ward had changed in the last few days. Wanda had felt it even in her sleep. Pietro would also be aware through their link.

Pretending to practice with the larger and heavier blocks, Wanda used that time to ping the minds of the guards and scientists. Gently so they wouldn't feel it. It was amazing what she could learn this way. And as long as von Strucker and List didn't find out the true extent of her powers, she and her brother were safe.

During formal testing, Wanda often purposely underperformed, as did Pietro. They made a pact to do so when Wanda had looked into von Strucker's thoughts, and had seen his schemes taking shape. The man was conflicted regarding his place within HYDRA. On the one hand, he was first and foremost a scientist, driven by curiosity, as well as the need for glory. And that was the other hand. He wanted to head up HYDRA in order to change its focus. Dominating the world was still a top priority. However, he preferred to achieve that goal through science, which would lead to intimidation using Inhumans as the driving force, a sort of army of people with remarkable powers, able to quash any form of resistance.

Inside von Strucker's mind, Wanda also saw the usual Nazi propaganda. That the only fitting leader in the new world order was a member of the so-called master race. She snorted to herself at the irony.

Wanda and Pietro's wants and needs were much simpler. They wanted revenge on Tony Stark for the death of their parents, and they needed to get away from this place to do it. After looking into the mind of Jasper, the man the scientists now called Subject 497, she thought of a brilliant way to move their plan forward.

* _Pietro?_ *

She heard a thump, and an audible curse. ** _Ow! What now? I was trying to convince the guard to bring me a snack_.**

* _I'm ready to get out of here_.*

** _I am too. How much longer must we cater to the demands of HYDRA?_ **

A smirk found its way into her mind's voice. * _We'll be going soon. Strangely enough, it's easier to manipulate the minds of the men than the women. I've been working on the captain of the guard. It won't be long until he's gotten us the documents we require to get to America._ *

** _Pity it takes so long to establish our story or we could be having hamburgers and milkshakes for dinner tonight._ **

Pursing her lips, Wanda responded, * _Do you ever_ _not_ _think about your stomach?_ *

** _Not really._ **

* _Even with my considerable powers of persuasion, it takes time. The hardest part will be convincing von Strucker to let us leave the compound_. * She sensed Pietro's scoff, and reacted to it with soothing tones. * _Yes, brother, I know we can leave whenever we wish, but I'd rather have it appear to be von Strucker's idea than ours. Before that can happen, we need the IDs, personal documents in order to establish a history, as well as money to live on until we locate just the right situation for our needs_. *

** _If this doesn't work, have you come up with a contingency plan?_ **

* _It will work. There are many out there who cannot resist… I believe the Americans you're so fond of would call it a hard luck story, especially when it involves children who have been orphaned._ *

Pietro's spirits lifted at the thought that they'd be released from their cells in the near future. ** _The fact that it's true will lend credence to our tale._ **

* _Which is why I suggested it_. * Wanda concentrated on the weakest-minded guard, and it didn't take long for the man to return to the cell block with a plate of food for her perpetually hungry brother. She felt his appreciation through their link, and smiled. The expression would be picked up by the video feed, puzzling those watching, wondering what she could be smiling about. * _Our contact will be on duty tonight. I will instill a sense of urgency in his mind. What would you say to getting out of here in, oh, a week?_ *

** _Make it five days. I want to say good-bye to Anya before we leave_. **

Mentally shaking her head, Wanda replied, * _You haven't seen Anya in two years. She's probably forgotten all about you._ **

** _Perhaps you're right._ **Through the walls, she heard her brother snicker. ** _I'm sure it's the same with you and Hugo._ **

* _Hugo and I were just friends, Pietro, and barely that. That he believed there was more to our relationship than going to the movies together once a month was_ _his_ _problem, and not mine._ * A presence tickled inside her head. * _Madu is coming. I'll begin the process after dinner._ *

** _On second thought, make it four days, sister_. **

She sent a wave of affection in Pietro's direction. * _As you wish, brother_. *

 **Tennessee**

The shock of seeing Phil Coulson alive wore off within moments. "And you're the director of SHIELD now?"

Phil smiled in that way he had, bland, but with hidden meaning. " _Fury's idea. Not mine. He gave me the tools to start rebuilding_." His hands were folded on the desk. " _We could use your help, Steve_."

"I was instrumental in exposing SHIELD to the public, Phil. _Why_ would I help rebuild it?"

" _Being in on the ground floor is the only way you'll ever trust that SHIELD isn't still filled with HYDRA agents_."

Steve heard Joi pad from the bedroom into the bathroom, and shut the door, the sound comforting in a way that had only a little to do with sex. "How do you know who to trust?"

Phil shrugged. One shoulder up and down. " _I have to believe that there are still good people out there who are trustworthy, Steve. And because the alternative is anarchy, war, and chaos_."

He had to admit Phil was right. One side of his mouth turned up as he returned to his seat. "Let me think about it."

" _You're not the 'think about it and get back to you' type. Why not make the decision now?_ "

"Because I'm going to be busy for a couple of weeks." Joi's footsteps brought her to his side. He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her, startling Phil.

The new SHIELD director raised one eyebrow. " _I won't ask doing what._ "

Joi put her arms around Steve's neck cuddling against his chest. "We're getting married." He nodded at the monitor. "Phil, this is Joi, my fiancée, and soon to be my wife. Joi, Phil Coulson."

Though his expression hadn't changed, Steve could tell he'd surprised Phil again.

" _Congratulations to you both._ "

Joi peered at Phil with intense curiosity, touched with confusion. "Babe, isn't he the guy you said was killed during the invasion?"

Steve chuckled lightly. "It's a long story, honey." His eyes met Phil's as he reached under the desk to shut off the monitor. The panel slid into place, and once again, the wall looked like a wall. "You ready for this, Joi?"

"Are you?"

He nuzzled her neck, making her giggle. "More than you'll ever know."

She slid off his lap, and he stood with her. Together they went to the kitchen. "My stuff's still packed. I'll make breakfast while you get your things together."

"It won't take long. I can rent a suit when we get there." Steve stopped in the bedroom doorway. "What about your dress?"

Though she was facing away from him, he got the sense that she was smiling. "That won't be a problem. Now go pack."

"We have time. The plane won't be ready until noon, and Knoxville's only about an hour's drive."

He pulled his bag from the closet, and set it on the dresser while he made the bed. All these years, and he still couldn't leave home without everything being just so.

It didn't take long, and soon, he had everything he needed in his bag. If they stayed in Las Vegas more than a couple of days, he'd buy more clothes.

Steve carried their bags to the living room, dropped them in the armchair near the door, and joined Joi in the kitchen. She smiled at him over her shoulder. "I made leftovers so the food wouldn't go bad while we're gone." The scent of food cooking made his stomach growl. "I've been curious, Steve. Are you going to wear a ring? With the kind work you do, it's understandable if you prefer not to."

Joi's voice faltered when he set a small black velvet box on the counter next to her. "Open it."

She looked up at him while wiping her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder. "What did you do?" She flipped the box open, and nestled inside was a pair of gold wedding bands that matched the gold and diamond engagement ring he'd given her the day they got engaged. The box snapped shut, and she threw her arms around his neck. "How long have you been planning this?"

"I bought them the same day as the engagement ring. Even then, I had a feeling we'd end up eloping." Her smiled of affection made his heart swell with love and happiness. Two things he never expected to find when he first came out of the ice.

"Gramps and Nat will flip out that we did this without them."

"They'll get over it." Stepping out of her embrace, Steve poured them each a cup of coffee, and carried it to the table. By the time he was seated, Joi set a plate in front of him, and took the other for herself.

They ate in near silence, just enjoying each other's company.

After the meal, Joi got dressed while he cleaned up. They held hands on the short walk to the SUV. She got into the passenger seat while he stowed their bags in the back seat where he found a garment bag hanging on one of the side hooks. Curious, but not enough to ask, Steve got behind the wheel, and they were on their way.

~~O~~

The drive to the private airstrip just north of Knoxville didn't take long due to lighter than usual traffic. The plane ride itself was incredible, and Tony had gone several steps further by having a car waiting for them in Las Vegas. Propped on the dash was a note letting them know that they also had reservations at the Midway Hotel.

Joi looked over the papers while Steve drove. "From the map, it looks like the hotel is in the Baby Bear zone."

Steve chuckled. "The what?"

"Baby Bear zone. Not right on the strip, but not too far out either." She tucked the papers into her purse. "We should've at least told Mom and Dad. Or Gramps and Nat."

"I thought the point of eloping was to keep it a secret until after the fact."

Laying her arm along the seat back, Joi toyed with Steve's hair that was now below his collar. "You know how much Gramps and Nat were looking forward to a double wedding. Now they won't get it."

He glanced at her then back to the road. "They'll have to settle for a joint reception."

Joi spent the remainder of the drive watching the scenery, and pinching herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Within a few blocks of the hotel, Joi handed Steve a pair of dark glasses, and a cap. So he wouldn't look so conspicuous, she wore a cap too, but without the glasses.

Midway Hotel had valet services, but Steve didn't want to use them. He let her off at the entrance. While he was parking, she checked them in under her name. The clerk passed over two keys, and Steve joined her a few minutes later.

They got in the elevator, and rode up to the eighth floor. Their room was large, with a small sitting area, and a king bed.

After putting their clothes away, Joi set her laptop on the table, and booted it up. "Show me what you've planned."

The amount of excitement Steve showed made her feel loved in a way no one else had ever done.

"It's called The Little White Church. Our package includes a chapel consultation, limo ride, our choice of five venues-I like the gazebo, music, a bouquet for you, a boutonniere for me, a dozen photos, a framed marriage certificate holder, internet broadcast-which we don't need, the unity candle, and the ceremony." He looked at his watch. "We have to make an appointment for the consultation, and confirm the limo by 1500, plus pick up the license. Luckily, they're across the street from each other."

"Wow. You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

Taking her hand, he held it between both of his. "This is forever, Joi. I want everything to go right."

"It doesn't have to be perfect, as long as we're married." She kissed him. "Call the consultant, and let's do this."

 **Homeland Security**

 **Cybercrimes Division**

 **Early Evening**

The conference room emptied so quickly, it was as if someone were offering free beer down the street, and his co-workers wanted to get their fair share. Only Cameron remained, waiting until he and Livie were alone. Not because he wanted to have a private conversation with her. He did it out of respect.

Livie gathered her tablet, coffee cup, water bottle, and phone, which Cameron caught as it slipped from her hand. He took control of her tablet, and the water bottle as well, following her down the hall to her office.

"I thought being a gentleman had gone out of style."

"Mom was a stickler for the small courtesies."

Livie sipped her coffee, and glanced at her phone when a message came in. Apparently it wasn't important because she didn't take it. "I'll have to thank her someday. Cam, I've been meaning to ask. A friend of mine worked for SHIELD. Maybe you know him. Hector Mitchell. We met in college, and have been friends since."

Cameron opened the office door, and followed her in, setting her things on the desk. "We weren't in the same department, though we did work together a few times."

He stayed standing while Livie sat down, and scooted close to the desk. "Haven't spoken to him in a few months. Any idea what's he doing now that SHIELD is kaput?"

Reluctant to tell the truth, Cameron made something up. "He may have been undercover overseas when the whole HYDRA thing happened. If he's keeping a low profile, you might not hear from him for a while." At the door, he looked back at Livie. He didn't want to be the one to kick to the curb everything she thought she knew about her friend. Instead, he smiled. "Good night. I'll see you Monday."

He closed the door, and returned to his desk where he shut everything down, locked up, and took the stairs down to the parking garage. Traffic was heavy, and he joined the masses commuting through D.C. and the surrounding areas.

Unlike most of people on the roads, Cameron wasn't headed home. He stopped to pick up enough food for three, and took the long way to his destination, all the while watching for a tail. It was something he hadn't thought about until Hill mentioned it. She gave him pointers on how to spot a tail, and how to lose one.

When he reached his destination, Cameron parked next to a small fuel efficient hybrid, and went inside. As on most nights he came here, it was just him, Fury and Hill. Their job was mining HYDRA's data files. That's how he found out about Livie's friend, and his misplace allegiance. Mitchell had been assigned to Bravo, and had been killed along with most of the crew when it rammed into the Triskelion.

Cameron prayed to God that he'd never have to reveal Mitchell's true nature to Livie.

Hill broke into his thoughts by bringing three cups of coffee to the table. He held her chair then took his own seat, pulling a laptop to him so he could work while he ate. At one time, he'd asked Fury if he could do the work from home. However, the former head of SHIELD preferred all the work to be done in a more secure setting, and Cameron agreed.

It was just that being here made him feel uncomfortable. He'd been a senior computer tech with aspirations to be in the field that never quite happened. Why didn't Hill and Fury get someone better suited to undercover work to help out?

Naturally, Cameron was flattered by the trust these two people put in him and his abilities, but it made him jittery being here at night. The place was creepy in the extreme, and only partially due to the venue. For some reason, Hill kept watching him with that contemplative stare she used in place of one with emotion. She wanted people, especially those under her command, to believe that she was cold, and unfeeling, except where her job was concerned. But Cameron knew better. He'd seen her reactions to some of his flip remarks that weren't meant to be heard, yet somehow she heard them, and her eyes would smile.

Ignoring his former bosses, Cameron got to work.

~~O~~

Hours later, Cameron noticed that Hill had left the room, and hadn't come back. Fury had gone as well, and could be heard moving around in the room where he slept. The thump of a shoe indicated that he was getting undressed.

Looking at the clock, he was surprised to see it was after midnight. He stretched, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. After shutting down the computer, he carried the food containers to the trash, and tied the bag. He'd take that with him when he left.

Returning to the War Room, as Agent Romanoff called it, Cameron gathered the coffee cups, and washed them in the bathroom sink. Out in the hall again, Hill was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Didn't know you were waiting, Commander."

She didn't speak, just smirked on her way into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Wondering what that look meant, Cameron put the cups on a shelf in the War Room, grabbed his keys, and put on his jacket. Again, he found Hill in the hall, holding a set of keys in her right hand. "I'll walk out with you."

Outside, Hill used the fob to unlock the hybrid's doors while he did the same for his car. He expected her to get in her car and go, but she didn't. And the gentleman in him wouldn't let him leave before her.

"Are you seeing anyone, Klein?"

Her question came out of the blue. Why would she be interested in his love life, or lack thereof? "Uh, no, ma'am. Not at the moment."

Without changing expression, Hill gave him the sense that she was pleased with his answer.

"Neither am I," she stated as she moved around in front of him. "Are you attracted to me?"

Startled, Cameron just managed to keep from taking a step back. "Pardon?"

"It's a simple enough question, Klein. Are you attracted to me?"

His brain screamed, _Hell yeah!_ Unfortunately, his brain only had tenuous control of his mouth. "I, uh…"

"I'm attracted to you." As if she hadn't done it in a long time, Hill put her hands on his waist to close the distance between them.

She rose up on her toes, and when he opened his mouth, she kissed him. Surprised, he held onto her waist, pulling her against his chest when he felt them falling. Eventually, the strangeness of the situation wore off, and Cameron responded to Hill's kisses. Her hands skimmed up the outside of his arms, across his shoulders, and around his neck while she moved her body against his, causing an involuntary reaction.

Hill separated their mouths. "That feels like yes." Cameron let her go when she stepped out of his embrace. "Got anything planned for the weekend?"

"Um, no. Not really."

She walked backwards to her car door, grinning. "Good. Get in your car, and follow me."

It was all moving too fast. Cameron took a step forward. "Wait! Where're we going, Commander?"

"Maria. And we're going to my place."

 **Sunshine Pilates Studio**

Once again, Justin found himself sitting in the diner across the street, watching Rey. He remembered most of their time together, and that they hadn't been in love. Not even close. Rey called it heavily in like, and he agreed.

Yet nearly every other day, he came to this same diner, sat in the same chair, and watched her without knowing why. Maybe he did love her in a way. But he'd also loved Sean, or thought he did. Now he wasn't sure. He did remember being head over heels for Rey's cat, and the feeling had been mutual. Cleopatra had followed him from room to room whenever he stayed the night. And she'd been so sad when she realized that he and Rey would be gone on a trip for a few days that he pleaded with Rey to take the cat with them.

As it turned out, it had been an excellent idea. While they were gone, someone had broken into the condo. When they returned, Justin had insisted that the two girls stay with him until he could have better security installed. He'd also shown her some self-defense moves that Natasha had taught the grandkids.

Justin pulled the cap lower over his face when Rey came out the front of her studio, locked the door, got into her SUV, and drove away. She closed early on Friday and Saturday, and was closed on Sunday. He thought briefly of following her, but she deserved to have some privacy.

He opened the newspaper to read the sports. Not that he was interested, but it was the only section available. A shadow fell over the paper, and Justin automatically pushed his cup over to be filled without taking his eyes from the article. That is until it was snatched from his hand.

Warily, Justin looked up, surprised to find Rey brandishing the paper like a weapon, and glaring.

"Who are you, and why are you watching me?"

 **TBC**


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 62**

 **Tunnel Vision**

Chase looked up at the light knock at the door. Only then did he realize that he'd been staring at his phone, willing Justin to call. He thought about hiring a private detective, but dismissed the idea. If Justin didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found, and Chase would just be wasting _his_ money and someone else's time.

He set the phone aside, and pretended to be deeply involved in whatever was displayed on the monitor. "Come in." Alex entered, and shut the door behind him. The man had an odd expression. "What's wrong?"

"The new office manager is here."

"Send her in."

Alex moved the guest chairs to one side, puzzling Chase. At the door, he stopped with one hand on the doorknob. "Have you met her? In person, I mean."

"Iris Castillo? My schedule was tight, so we FaceTimed the interview. Why?"

The manager shook his head. "No reason. I'll send her in." He stepped out, and the door opened again. "He's ready to see you, Ms. Castillo."

The same pleasant voice from their talk floated through the door as Alex pushed it wide. "Thank you, Alex, and call me Iris. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"You too, Iris."

The woman who entered was indeed the same one he'd hired via phone calls, and video chat. However, there was one aspect that hadn't come up. At no time during any of their conversations had she mentioned being in a wheelchair. To hide his surprise, Chase stood and reached over to shake her hand with a smile. "Thank you for coming, Ms. Castillo."

Her smile faded somewhat, due not doubt to the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She gently pulled her hand free, and raised her chin proudly. "Just because my legs don't work, doesn't mean I'm brain dead, Mr. Lockwood."

Embarrassed, Chase sat down, and scooted close to the desk. "Didn't mean to stare. It's just that you never said a word about…" He stopped in midsentence, not sure how to end it without sounding like an ass. "It's only an issue because we have stairs."

Her wry smile came back. "I noticed. You'll need to install ramps so Alex won't have to drag me up and down the stairs every day."

"Absolutely." Chase tapped the keys of the computer. "Since our talk the other day, I've come up with an idea I want to run by you. In addition to running the night club, I also have an IT company. We're small, just me and three other guys. Our business has grown to the extent that we need to take on more techs. More employees equals more work for everyone." Iris rested her right elbow on the arm of her chair, and chin in hand, her dark eyes intent. "Would you be willing to take on the management of both companies? There would be a commensurate increase in your salary, plus perks. We can work together on the job description. What do you say?"

 **Homeland Security**

 **Cybercrimes Division**

Leaning back in his chair, Cameron watched the news video for the third time as ZNN anchor Mary Schiller looked into the camera with just the right amount of sympathy and caring, mixed with determination. "… _President_ _Harker announced today that the terrorist attack on The Triskelion, the headquarters of SHIELD, had been perpetrated by HYDRA._

" _HYDRA is an organization thought to have become extinct with the death of their leader, Colonel Johann Schmidt in 1945. Schmidt, who also went by the name Red Skull, died at the hands of Captain Steve Rogers when he forced Schmidt's plane into the North Atlantic, thereby saving the lives of the residents of New York City._ "

In the upper left corner, a video of the Avengers fighting the Chitauri played, focusing on Steve in his Captain America uniform.

" _You will recall that it was just two short years ago that Captain Rogers, the leader of a group calling themselves the Avengers, repelled an alien invasion over Manhattan_ …"

Cameron shut it off, closed the laptop, and got to his feet. He didn't want to do this, but it had to be done today, before Livie heard the news from someone else. On the way to her office, he stopped in the men's room to wash his hands, and straighten his tie. Realizing he was stalling, he continued on to Livie's office, and knocked on the open door.

His boss looked up from her phone, and smiled. "Come in, Cam. Have a seat."

He stood in front of her desk, rubbing his hands together. "It's better if I stand for what I have to say." Livie was patient, folding her hands together in front of her. "I lied to you the first day we met. I know what happened to your friend."

Though she kept her expression neutral, Cameron saw her fingers tighten. "Go on."

"Hector Mitchell was killed when the Insight helicarrier crashed into the Triskelion."

Her mouth dropped open. "Why was he on the ship in the first place?"

Cameron looked down at his feet, and back up, meeting Livie's eyes with his. "The Insight helicarriers were crewed exclusively with HYDRA agents."

Livie looked like someone had kicked her in the stomach. "That's-that's not possible. Hector was kind, sweet, compassionate. He was married, had two kids, coached his daughter's co-ed soccer team, volunteered at the food bank…" Her voice trailed off when she reached the only logical conclusion: that it had all been a front. "How do you _know_ he was a part of the attacks?"

"Because I was there." Cameron pulled out a chair, dropping into it with a heavy sigh. "I was in the group trying to stop them. While monitoring the helicarrier's transmissions, I heard his voice. He deliberately and coldheartedly ordered the crew to kill seven million people."

 **Soule, South Korea**

While two of her assistants placed one of the bodies on the platform, Helen made a few adjustments to the regeneration program, and saved the work. The subject was male, as were the others. This one was dark blond with blue eyes, and bulging muscles, reminding her of Thor, and bringing a surge of annoyance.

Thor had come to her lab, and she'd taken him to her apartment where they had spent the most incredible night in bed. The Asgardian was a thoughtful, caring, and enthusiastic lover, leaving her quite satisfied. In the morning, she expected him to shower, dress, eat, and go. At least that was the plan. _Her_ plan, but not his, apparently, because he was still there. Even telling him that she wouldn't be home hadn't budged him.

 _I'll be at the lab all day. Are you sure you don't have something better to do than hang out here?_

He'd smiled, and taken her in his arms. _I do not. The portal by which I must now travel between Asgard and Midgard will open again in three days' time. I cannot return home until them. Go to your laboratory. I will remain here, and entertain myself with your television._

She tried another tact. _There's not much to eat._

 _That is not a problem. My good friend Tony Stark has told me of places that will deliver any food you desire with a single phone call. Perhaps I will visit him at the compound while you are gone, and he and I will feast on, I believe he called it pizza. I will return here by the time you have finished your work for the day._

Having Thor with her one or two nights every few weeks more than fulfilled her desire for his attention. But three more days? Helen wasn't ready for anything more than what they had. Maybe that's why he and Jane Foster had parted. Thor wanted a commitment, and Jane didn't. She asked him about it once, but he refused to speak on the subject.

This whole situation with Thor reminded her of a song by her father's favorite singer, Chris LeDoux.

 _Whatcha gonna do with a cowboy_ _  
_ _When that old rooster crows at dawn_ _  
_ _When he's lyin' there instead of gettin' out of bed_ _  
_ _And puttin' on his boots and gettin' gone_

Shaking her head to clear it of Thor and the attraction she felt for him, Helen focused on perfecting her regeneration cradle. "The samples taken from Specimen Alpha show that he was capable of rapid healing in addition to incredible strength, agility, and skill. Even more so than Steve Rogers, Loki, and Thor."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, her chief assistant, John, speaking for them. "And though he's been deceased for more than seventy-two hours, Alpha's body is showing no sign of decomposition. Except for the fact that he has no vital signs, he could be sleeping."

Helen nodded, and two of the others moved the prototype scanner over Alpha's head wound. Even on a dead body, the tissue should regenerate. Once the scanner was in place, she turned it on, fascinated by the play of light over the man's face, and the wavering hum from the machine. "We'll go with ten minutes initially then run a diagnostic, and make any adjustments from that data."

To dispel some of the anxiety, Helen walked around the table, eyes glued to her tablet displaying a constant stream of data coming from the scanner. When she tired of that, she went to the refrigerator for a cold drink. She leaned against the counter, sipping from the bottle of water, and letting her mind drift back to the Thor problem. She was jolted out of her reverie by John's shout.

"Helen! Look!"

Helen was at his side in an instant, all thoughts of a personal nature gone. They all watched in fascination as the bullet wound in Alpha's forehead slowly shrank in on itself until there was nothing left of it aside from a small scar.

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

Keeping with tradition, Steve and Joi slept apart the night before the wedding. He booked a room at a motel for the night so they wouldn't see each other until just before the ceremony. It wasn't far from the chapel, so he flagged a cab for the ride, and Joi had the limo all to herself.

Standing in front of the chapel, Steve resisted looking at his watch. Their appointment wasn't for another hour, and Joi was seldom late for anything.

The black limo pulled away from the curb, and a white one took its place. The driver came around to open the back door. He extended his hand to his passenger, and as she came into view, his lungs refused to work, for standing in front of him was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

Joi had chosen to wear the dress that Connie had worn when she and Bucky were married. In the photos from their wedding day, the dress was white. The passage of time had turned it an exotic cream color that blended perfectly with Joi's skin tone. The sleeves and across the front were lace, with satin underneath. The skirt flared slightly from her waist, ending just below the knees.

Instead of a pillbox hat, Joi wore a short veil affixed to the elegant up-do of her dark brown hair. In her right hand, she held a small bouquet of cream colored roses, with two deep purple orchids, all made of silk.

Their eyes met, and she smiled, her eyes sparkling with affection. Steve held out his hand, and she placed hers in it, holding tight.

~~O~~

As the limo pulled up in front of the chapel, Steve came into sight, looking so handsome that she could barely stand it. His double-breasted silk suit conformed to his muscular physique as if it had been made for him, though she knew he'd only rented it. It was dark gray, with subtle pinstripes, and his tie was the same color as the orchids in her bouquet. The boutonniere matched the color of the roses.

"You look beautiful, Joi."

He said the words with a breathlessness that she felt as well. "You too." They went inside, and seated themselves in the last pew. "You have the license, and the rings?"

Steve's right hand patted the left side of his chest. "Right here."

"Good. I don't want anything to go wrong."

"Neither do I."

The opening notes of the traditional wedding march echoes in the small space. Everyone turned to see a couple standing arm in arm at the entrance. They were young, barely out of their teens, yet obviously old enough to marry without parental consent.

This same scene repeated several more times with others, and Joi counted herself lucky to be included at the start of each couples' new lives together.

The officiant, a man in a dark suit, conferred with the organist then returned to the altar to announce the next couple.

"Romanoff and Barnes."

Natasha and Gramps stood from their seats across the aisle and two up from where she sat with Steve. Four sets of eyes met, all with the same stunned surprise.

 **Grubb's Diner**

Ducking his head and turning his head, Justin altered his voice and speech patterns. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, lady. I'm just drinkin' m' coffee, 'n readin' the sports page."

"That's BS. You've been sitting here off and on for a couple of weeks. You're a friend of Delmar's, aren't you?" Rey drew herself up to her full five-five, fists jammed into her hips, and a look on her face that had scared him the first time he saw it. "He treated me like _crap_ , and got all bent out of shape when I kicked him out. Don't know why I started dating him in the first place. I deserve so much better."

Justin agreed wholeheartedly, but didn't say so. He downed the last few drops of coffee, grabbed his jacket, holding it in just a way that Rey couldn't fully see his face, and stood, forcing her to back up, "I'll just find me somewhere's else to get my caffeine fix, honey. This place ain't near as hospitable as my landlady said it'd be."

Not giving her a chance to make a response, Justin left the diner, putting his jacket on as he headed for the motorcycle. _Dammit! How'd I get caught again?_ He put the helmet on, fastened the chin strap, dropped the faceplate into place, and straddled the bike. The engine idled while he put a glove on his right hand. He'd gone about two blocks when he heard gunfire coming from in front of the diner, and his first thought was for Rey.

Revving the engine, Justin made a tire screeching U-turn.

~~O~~

All while she was confronting the strange man who'd been watching her, Rey had clamped down on a small sliver of fear. Her observations from behind the shades of the studio told her it was unlikely that the man would become violent. Being in his physical presence only confirmed that feeling, and the fear dissipated.

After he'd gone, she went into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She patted dry with paper towels, and sighed. "That was _stupid_ , Medina. He could've been a serial killer, a rapist, or even a Republican."

Several gunshots split the air, startling her. She could hear the people in the diner screaming. The paper towels fell to the floor as Rey searched for a hiding place. She went into the farthest stall, locked the door, and climbed up to crouch on the back of the toilet, making herself as small as possible.

The shooting stopped and started again before Rey thought to call the police. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she quickly dialed.

" _9-1-1. What is your emergency?_ "

Keeping her voice low, Rey told the woman, "I-I'm at Grubb's Diner. There's shooting, and…" She curled into a tighter ball when a bullet somehow made its way to her hiding place, imbedding itself in the wall not two feet from her head.

" _Stay calm. The police and paramedics are on their way. Is anyone hurt?_ "

"Don't know. I'm hiding in the ladies room. I can only hear the gunshots, not see the shooters."

Rey heard vague sounds in the background then the operator was back. " _Stay where you are, and remain on the line until the police arrive. Can you do that for me?_ "

The operator's condescending tone irked Rey. _I'm not a child, b*****!_

Without warning, the noise stopped. "It's stopped." Rey put first one foot then the other on the floor. "I'm gonna go check." She ignored the woman on the phone telling her to stay put, taking one slow step at a time. Her hand pushed the door open a few inches, so that now she could see the employees and patrons huddled under tables, and behind the counter. "Doesn't look like anyone in the diner was hurt."

Staying low to the floor, Rey crept through the diner to a booth by a window, recoiling at the carnage.

A body laid the sidewalk in front of the diner. From her vantage point, she could see at least three bullet wounds. There was so much blood, the young man couldn't possibly be alive, and if he was, he wouldn't be much longer. Another man lay in the street, alive, and trying to crawl to safety.

She ducked when she saw two young men hunkered down between parked cars. Both held formidable looking hand guns. One had blood on his shirt. A customized 1969 Pontiac Firebird cruised down the street, and the men hiding took a few potshots that missed. Those in the car fired back.

Into the hail of bullets, the man she'd spoken to, the one she was certain had been watching her, came running from the right.

The men on both sides saw him, and changed their focus. The driver of the Firebird revved the engine, the dual exhausts sounding like thunder announcing a coming storm. He shifted into gear, grinning at his supposed victory as he drove toward her maybe-stalker who was standing in the middle of the street. That grin turned to alarm when the other man ran toward the vehicle, jumped and flipped while twisting, landing behind it.

Startled, the driver slammed on his brakes, and skidded into several parked cars. He shifted into reverse, but didn't get far because the other man casually stepped to the side. As the Firebird reached him, he pulled the driver's door off with his left hand, and yanked the driver from his seat, throwing him against the wall between her studio, and the computer repair shop next door.

Without a driver, the car curved around to crash into a dumpster in the parking lot of the dry cleaners.

The two still hiding between the parked cars stood up and shot at her stalker. He spun around quickly several times, easily avoiding the shots. Rey was stunned to see that he hadn't been hit, not once.

He looked to his left, and soon Rey too could hear the approaching sirens. The impression she got wasn't that he was afraid of the police. Yet somehow, she knew he wasn't going to wait around to be questioned.

He moved to her right at the same time that Rey pushed out of the booth, ran through the diner's kitchen to the back door, turned left in the alley, and kept going. As she reached the side parking lot, the man was climbing on a motorcycle.

Rey ran toward him, wanting to find out who he was, and how he was able to do all those amazing things. A stalker doesn't usually wade into a firefight between members of feuding gangs.

As she reached the corner, the two men between the cars came running toward her, and Rey was right in their path. Their weapons came up, the shots missing when the man on the motorcycle grabbed her around the waist, and swung her around so she landed behind him.

He tossed "Hang on" over his shoulder in a tone that was meant to be obeyed. Rey almost fell off when they sped up. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and when he took the turn onto a side street at a high rate of speed, she closed her eyes, fearing they'd crash. They didn't crash, and it was all due to the driver's skill.

He kept driving, weaving through residential areas, alleys, and the occasional strip mall, until she was so lost she'd never find her way back to the studio where she left her SUV.

Eventually, he slowed down, and came to a stop in back of an old church that hadn't seen a congregation in a long time. Nature had begun to reclaim this piece of land. The yard and garden were overgrown, as was the parking lot. Grass and weeds had pushed through the asphalt, creating cracks. In some places, slabs had been pushed up, making the ride bumpy.

Rey's savior, as she now thought of him, shut down the engine, and used his heel to put the kickstand down. He waited for her to get off before doing so himself.

Without a word, he walked around the side of the church that faced a baseball field, stopping at the corner to look back at her. With the faceplate down, she couldn't see his eyes, though it was obvious that he expected her to follow.

Under her breath, Rey muttered, "How do you get yourself into these situations, Medina?" That's when she noticed she no longer had her cell phone, and had no idea where or when she'd lost it. "S***. That was a new phone."

Resigned, she followed. He moved a heavy piece of metal out of the way, and extended his hand. Rey took the offering, using him to balance as she stepped through a hole barely large enough for either of them. He joined her, going down on one knee, and reaching through the hole to pull the metal back into place.

Brushing rust and dirt from his hands, he got to his feet, she followed, both arms sweeping side to side in the dark so she wouldn't trip. He must've sensed her anxiety because he once again took her hand, leading her down a long hallway and into a room that had no windows.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness that was only partially alleviated by the moon shining through the windows in the hall, Rey could see that he'd created a nest of sorts in the church's nursery. His sleeping area was a single mattress covered with a sheet, a pillow, and several blankets lying in a tangle. He'd found a couple of decent chairs, and kindly invited her to take a seat.

He passed her to go across the hall to another room, taking off the helmet as he went, and setting it on a battered desk covered with outdated Sunday service fliers, and a phone. Standing to one side, he peeked out the side of the dusty curtains. "You're safe here. They couldn't have followed us."

Watching his every move as he went about lighting an old kerosene lamp, Rey commented, "I appreciate you saving my life, but I have a few questions." Crossing his arms, he kept his face turned away. This habit of not looking directly at her when she spoke was getting tiresome. "Who were those guys? Where are we? You're not a stalker, so who the hell _are_ you?"

Rey was surprised to hear him chuckle. "What you did tonight, confronting someone you thought was a stalker, running into the line of fire, leaving the scene with a stranger? It's hard to believe you're the same girl who screamed like a banshee when she saw an…" he held up his thumb and forefinger, pinching a small amount of air, "… itty bitty spider."

Something about his voice was familiar, as if she'd heard it a long time ago. "Who are you?"

He exhaled loudly as he took off his right glove and the jacket, dropping them on the changing table being used as a dresser. "This isn't how I wanted to do this, Rey."

Again, that familiarity, this time bringing a face to mind. "You're not a stalker. How do you know my name?"

Hanging his head as if he'd given up, he inhaled, and let it out as he turned to face her in the flickering light of the lamp.

Stunned, Rey stumbled back, her hands searching for and finding the chair. She sat down with a thump, unable to believe her eyes. "Justin?"

 **TBC**

 _Whatcha Gonna Do with a Cowboy_ is a song by American country music artists Chris LeDoux and Garth Brooks released in 1992.


	63. Chapter 63

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 63**

Justin held his hands out to the sides. "In the flesh. Sort of." He took a step toward Rey, stopping when she scrambled out of the chair, and backed away, one hand up to ward him off.

"Stay back."

"I've missed you, Rey."

Her lower lip trembled as she kept backing up. She looked down when she tripped over a pair of shoes, stepped over them, and kept going. "And you're a lying a-hole because Justin is _dead_." Her voice was soft and tremulous, as if she were trying not to cry. "He's been dead for more than _two years_. I-I went to his funeral. There was a memorial service with standing room only. I put flowers on his grave every year on his birthday." Justin opened his mouth and shut it again when she found herself up against a wall. "You _look_ like Justin, but you can't be him because he's _dead_."

"It's really me, Rey." He tried again to touch her, but she slapped his hands away, and escaped into the hall, looking left and right, seeing no way out. Letting out a long sigh, Justin eased off, gave Rey some room to breathe, to deal with having her world turned upside down. "What can I say to convince you?"

She crossed her arms, and shifted her weight onto one foot. Now that he'd stopped moving toward her, she relaxed, and her chin came up in a show of bravado. "Answer a few questions."

"I don't have all my memories back, but I'll do my best." Justin gestured toward an old sofa in the foyer. He'd cleaned it as best he could, and covered it with a blanket, more for something to do than because he used it. Rey sat on one end, perched on the edge, ready to bolt. For himself, he brought the straight-backed chair out, and turned it around. He straddled the seat, and waited for the first of what would be many questions.

"Where did we meet?"

 _Psht! That's an easy one_. "The toy section of Discount Mart. You dropped your groceries. I helped pick them up, and we shared my cart." He held up a finger to stall the next question. "I was checking out a karaoke machine, and we sang a duet."

"What song?"

" _Don't Go Breakin' My Heart_. Elton John, and Kiki Dee." Justin knew it would take a long time to remove the suspicion from Rey's eyes and manner. And who could blame her for being mistrustful, under the circumstances?

"Our first date."

Getting to his feet, Justin strutted over to the fireplace, and turned. He deepened his voice, and loudly proclaimed, "Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt."

To which Rey automatically responded with, " _Measure for Measure,_ Act 1, Scene 4."

Crossing his arms, Justin found a wall to hold up. "Shakespeare in the Park. Their Hamlet had dreadlocks. In the middle of his 'what a piece of work is a man' speech, he tripped over his shoelaces, and fell off the stage." He pushed off the wall, careful not to block any escape routes, even if she couldn't get out on her own. "We shared our first real kiss that night."

 **Tunnel Vision**

Chase escorted Iris out, they shook hands, and she waited until he'd gone inside to roll herself to the parking lot. Her brother, Andre, stood beside the car that had been converted for her use. She could drive, but sometimes, like today, she asked him to accompany her.

Andre was three years older, and felt it was his duty to look after her. The two shared similar features, as most siblings did. Black hair, brown eyes, a pointy nose, to her at least, and an odd way of tilting their head when thinking. Her hair was a few shades lighter, straight, and down to the middle of her back while Andre's was military short.

Her brother pushed her around to the passenger side, and opened the door. "How did it go? Was this Lockwood guy a jerk when he found out about the chair?"

Iris locked the wheels, folded the foot rests out of the way, and used the arms of the chair to help her stand. She had some feeling and movement in her legs, but not enough to walk more than a few steps. "Not especially. It was a surprise, of course. I wanted him to hire me because I can do the job better than any other applicant. Not out of pity."

She lifted her legs into the car one at a time, and buckled her seat belt.

"Thank God. Now I don't have to beat the crap out of him," Andre remarked with a grin. "This is a new shirt, and I don't want to get blood on it." He went around to the driver's side, got in, buckled up, and started the car.

"You may have met your match, brother. Chase helped me down the stairs by lifting me _and_ the chair together. He's lean, and strong." Iris flipped the visor down to use the mirror. "I got the job, by the way."

"Great! You can buy dinner."

Iris took a tube of lip balm from her purse, and applied it. "I start Monday, and don't get my first paycheck for two weeks after that. Dinner's on you."

Andre pulled to a stop at the light. "Why Monday?"

"Chase is having ramps installed both here and at the office for his IT company. Wants me to manage both."

"Think he offered you both because he felt sorry for you?"

The lip balm went back into her purse. "Didn't get that vibe from him. The manager, Alex, did look at me a little oddly, and some of the patrons stared, but that's it. The sense I got was that he'd already decided to hire me, and offer the other position as well. Got a huge increase in salary, and a personal parking space."

Andre flicked the blue and white placard that hung from the rear view mirror. "You already have preferred parking."

"This one will have my name, title, and everything." Iris touched her brother on the arm. "I like him, Andre. He's a good guy."

Her brother looked over at her, assessing her sincerity. "If he turns out to be a prick, you know who to call."

"Ghostbusters?"

They laughed together as Andre pulled into the parking lot of Clyde's Southside Bistro, and parked in the first handicapped space.

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

Looking Steve and Joi over, Bucky could see from their attire that they'd come to Las Vegas for the same reason he and Natasha had. "Great minds think alike."

His granddaughter hugged Natasha then him. "I'm glad you're here, Gramps. Now we can have that double wedding."

"Romanoff and Barnes," the officiant called out again, impatiently.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. "Wait here."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

Standing in front of the mirror by the lifts, Tony adjusted his tie, and smoothed the sides of his hair, muttering to himself, "Pepper was due forty-five minutes ago."

" _Ms. Potts is on her way up now, sir._ "

He rolled his eyes. "Finally." The hum of the lift rising through the tower interrupted the smartass remark on the tip of Tony's tongue. He tugged on his cuffs one last time. "Make yourself scarce, Jarvis."

" _As always, sir. Enjoy your evening_."

The lift dinged, the doors parted, and Pepper stepped out, looking elegant as always. "It's good to see you, Pepper."

She presented her cheek for a kiss. "And you, Tony."

He took her wrap, hung it in the closet, and came back. She allowed him to escort her to the bar with a hand on her lower back. "Thanks for coming tonight." He set two martini glasses on the bar, poured an equal amount into each, added toothpicks with olives, and passed one to Pepper. "Dirty Martini. Three olives. _Salut_."

They drank, and Tony came around the bar to stand next to Pepper. She sipped the drink without taking her eyes off his face, and set the glass on the bar. "What are your expectations for tonight?"

"None beyond drinks, dinner, dessert, and discourse." He looked down at his feet, and back to her.

Pepper grinned, and touched his cheek, her thumb brushing along the edge of his beard. "Sometimes, you can be exceptionally sweet."

"I do try. Don't always succeed." He extended his elbow, and Pepper wrapped her hand around it as he drew her over to the window looking out onto the Manhattan skyline.

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

Steve stood between Joi and Natasha, holding Joi's hand, watching Bucky speak with the officiant. "We paid for two packages. Maybe we should just do this one at a time."

Natasha gave him the side-eye with a smile. "You know as well as I do how persuasive James can be."

Bucky pointed out the trio to the officiant, moving his hands as he spoke. Though he seemed reluctant at first, the man eventually gave in. Bucky waved them forward. "Pastor Eldridge has graciously agreed to do this as a double, with each couple serving as witnesses to the other. That work for everyone?"

Personally, Steve didn't care as long as he and Joi were married by the time they left the chapel. He glanced left and right, receiving nods of agreement. "Let's do it, Buck."

The pastor nodded. "Please take your places."

The couples separated, Bucky and Natasha to the right of the podium, Steve and Joi on the left. Behind them, he could hear the crowd murmuring about the unusual occurrence.

Organ music played in the background while Eldridge consulted the page to the right of the bible. He looked up, catching the eye of each of them. "We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, the joining of these two, I mean _four_ hearts in marriage. It is their desire to love each other for life, and that is what we're celebrating here today. A good marriage must be created. It's not only about marrying the right person. It's being with the right partner, for marriage is a partnership, two individuals who will become one…"

 **Cameron Klein's Apartment**

He wanted a drink, a fifth of Jack, preferably. But the problem with having a drink when you're feeling sorry for yourself is that the drink gets lonely, so you have another to keep it company. Those drinks invite more, making it a party then it's drinks all around, and you wake up the next morning with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, and wondering where you left your car.

Not that it ever happened to Cameron. But he'd spent his share of Sunday afternoons driving his buddies around looking for their cars, and he just didn't want to go down that road with himself as the main character.

Instead, he ordered a veggie pizza to be delivered, and put on a pot of decaf. While waiting, he took a quick shower.

The doorbell rang as he returned to the living room, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. Thinking it was the pizza delivery guy, Cameron opened the door. "That was quick. Let me get my wallet."

"Pizza's paid for, Klein." Surprised to hear a familiar voice, he held the towel in one hand, staring wide-eyed at his unexpected guest. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"What are you doing here?"

Maria Hill let herself in, and set the pizza box on the coffee table. "To see if you wanted to do pizza and a movie night."

Confused, Cameron watched Hill open cabinets until she found cups, poured the coffee, and carried those to the living room as well. "You mean like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date." She returned to the kitchen for plates, napkins, and forks, and that's when he remembered that all he had on was a pair of shorts.

Cameron hung the towel in the bathroom, and went to the bedroom for a shirt, pulling it on over his head as he came down the hall. "But I thought…"

"You thought the weekend we spent together was a one-time thing, not to be repeated." Embarrassed that he'd made an assumption, he could only nod. Hill wasn't insulted, apparently. She sat on the sofa, and waited for him to join her to open the pizza box. "No matter what you've heard about me, Klein, I'm not that kind of girl."

"I haven't _heard_ anything. My assumptions were based on past experiences."

Hill held out her hand, and after a long moment, Cameron took it. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't what happened next. She placed a hand on both cheeks, and leaned in for a long, almost chaste kiss. They separated, no more than an inch. "Then you've been dating the wrong women."

Taking his agreement for granted, Hill turned her attention to the food. Using her fingers, she put a slice on each plate, handed one to Cameron, kept the other for herself, picked up the remote, and turned on the television. "What's your pleasure, Klein? Horror, action adventure, comedy, romance, animated? _Please_ tell me you're not into anime."

"I'm _not_ into anime." Finally relaxing, Cameron sat back on the sofa with a smile, and picked up his slice of pizza. "You choose."

 **Seoul, South Korea**

The lab was quiet, only the soft susurrations of the equipment, the glow of the indirect lighting, and footsteps of the patrol marred the perfection of the room.

Behind a door that boasted two layers of security were three coffin-like capsules, each one containing the body of a former Winter Soldier, all male, designated Alpha, Beta, and Gamma.

Alpha, like his name, had been the first of the subjects on whom the regeneration cradle had been used. The wound on his forehead had been healed, leaving just a small scar. But what the team didn't know was that once the cradle had been turned off, the tissues continued to regenerate.

The taut skin of Alpha's forehead had risen. The progression was slow, barely discernible at first. After a few hours, the area bulged as if a cyst were forming under the skin. Slowly, but surely, the bulge increased in size until the skin split, and a piece of dark grey metal was expelled. It hit the clear cover, bounced off, and rolled out of sight.

And deep inside the subject's brain, the regeneration continued.

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington D.C.**

Unconvinced that the man in front of her really was Justin, Rey kept up a steady stream of questions, all of which had been answered correctly. Maybe something more personal…

"I have a tattoo on my butt. What is it, and on which cheek?"

Justin smiled fondly. He'd taken a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. "You don't _have_ a tattoo. Or rather you didn't the last time we were together."

"Sure of that, are you?"

His grin sent a shiver of sexual awareness down her spine, reminding her what it was like to be close to someone you cared enough about to let them see you naked. Not just physically, but emotionally as well.

"Positive. I've seen those cheeks up close and personal. They're perfect. And no tattoos."

Lifting her chin, Rey searched for something that would trip him up, if he were an impostor. "What did we do…" He shot to his feet, and Rey did as well, preparing to run. But she needn't have worried.

"Enough questions. You obviously don't believe me, so I'll take you back to your car, and make sure you get home okay, that none of those gang members are hanging around." The humor had gone from his expression, voice, and manner. He shook his head. "I was an idiot, thinking you wouldn't notice that you were being watched."

Rey followed him into the office where he stood looking out the window with his arms crossed. "Truth is I didn't. One of my students pointed out that she'd been seeing a hot guy at the diner, and wanted my opinion about introducing herself. One day, I watched to see if you had an eye for her, too, and maybe help the two of you meet. But you just kept watching the studio, even when I was the only one there."

"And came to the conclusion that I was a stalker." Justin glanced at her, and back out the window. "I've been keeping an eye on my family, close friends…"

"And ex-girlfriends?"

His smile came back, though dimmed from before. "Technically, we never broke up, so…"

"Technically, we were only dating." Done with the witty banter, Rey took a cautious step closer. "Do you have _any_ idea what your family went through thinking you were dead?"

The left eyebrow inched upward. "So _you_ didn't miss me at all?"

Crossing her arms, Rey huffed, and turned her back on him. "Don't be an _ass_ , Jay."

She inhaled sharply when he lifted a lock of hair. It had come loose from the bun in which she wore it while teaching classes. The heat from his body could be felt through the material of her t-shirt as he moved up behind her. "You let your hair grow out. I like it."

One shoulder lifted, and dropped. "You once said you liked long hair so…"

"You did this for me even when you thought I was dead?"

The awe in his voice was familiar, causing old feelings to stir. Feelings and sensations that hadn't manifest themselves since he'd been gone. "Where have you _been_ , Justin? Why didn't you come home?" Taking a step forward, she looked him in the eye. "No lies. No smartass remarks meant to distract me from the subject. I want the _truth_."

From the look on his face, the story wouldn't be sweet or kind, meh, or have a happy ending. Whatever happened had left him less than he was before. Or he thought so, at least. To bring him a small measure of comfort, Rey reached for his hand, disheartened when he jerked free, and backed away. Not as if she'd offended or repulsed him, but more as if he couldn't trust himself to allow physical contact.

"I'd rather you remember me the way I was when we met." He held up his left hand. "What I've been through the past few years is the stuff that inspires nightmares, horror movies, and Stephen King novels."

"Hmph. This is freakin' _perfect_ , Justin. You dragged me here, God knows why…"

"To save your life."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And now there's a brick wall between us."

Justin's left hand curled into a fist, and his forehead creased in anger, but not directed toward her. "It's there for your protection, Rey."

"But _why_?" she implored. "I can't _help_ if you won't let me."

He chuckled humorlessly, and shook his head. "This isn't something that can be cured with a hug, hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles, and a bowl of homemade mac and cheese."

Again, Rey attempted to take his hand, and again, he didn't let her. _Fine. If that's how it is…_ She returned to her seat on the sofa, tucked her legs under, and waited.

~~O~~

Resigned to his fate, Justin released the glove's closure. "Brace yourself for a shock."

He heard Rey snort, and strangely, it made him feel a little better about the situation. Facing away from her, Justin took the glove off his left hand, and laid it on the small table next to the chapel entrance. Grasping the bottom of his long-sleeved t-shirt, he pulled it over his head, and put it with the glove.

What little light there was glinted off the metal of his arm, and Justin hoped with all he had in him that Rey wouldn't fear for her life once she saw it. He took a deep breath, and turned around.

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

Natasha listened as Steve repeated the vows Joi had already taken, patiently waiting her turn.

"I, Steven Grant Rogers take you Esmeralda Joi Lockwood to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship, and love you today, tomorrow, and forever."

Nodding with a pleased smile, Pastor Eldridge turned to her and Bucky. "Ms. Romanoff, repeat after me…

Holding Bucky's hand, Natasha let him see all the love in her heart. "I, Natasha Alianovna Romanoff, take you James Buchanan Barnes to be my hus…"

Without a word, or a warning of any kind, Bucky pulled his hand free, and took a step back. Natasha had seen terror on the faces of people she'd been sent to assassinate, but never on Bucky's. There didn't seem to be anything he was afraid of, aside from losing his family.

The look in his eyes reminded Natasha of a trapped animal. His breaths came short and fast. His eyes were wide and panicked. They darted from her to Steve, to Joi, to the pastor, and back to her. "I-I'm sorry. I can't… I can't do this."

Bucky leapt off the dais, strode quickly down the aisle, pushed through the swinging doors at the entrance, and was gone.

 **TBC**


	64. Chapter 64

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 64**

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington D.C.**

Sitting on the sofa, Rey held her breath while Justin took off the glove and t-shirt. Her jaw dropped at seeing the red scarring that ran along the edge of the striated metal that encased his left shoulder. Extrapolating from that, she theorized that his entire left arm was now made of metal. And when he turned, though she'd braced herself for it, the reality was still a shock.

She covered her mouth with her hand, and finally took a breath, letting it out as she stood, and slowly crossed the dusty carpet, stopping close enough to touch him if she chose. And she did.

Taking his right hand, Rey turned it over to look at the tattoo on his wrist. He tried to pull away, but didn't put a lot of effort into the action. That as much as his correct responses to her questions told her he was who he appeared to be.

She led Justin back into the nursery, turning him into the light. As if she had every right to, she reached out to touch the scarring, drawing back at the last moment.

"It's okay, Rey. You won't hurt me." Even with that reassurance, she was reluctant. He took her hand and placed it on the skin that edged the metal, and when she looked up, he nodded for her to continue.

Carefully rubbing her fingertips over the scars, she traced them up to the shoulder. Without her asking, he turned around so she could continue her exploration.

Tentatively, Rey used the fingers of both hands to trace each individual metal plate all the way down to his wrist. Moving around in front of him, she cupped the hand in her palm, drawing her forefinger over his palm from the wrist to the joint where his middle finger was attached, looking up sharply when he laughed. Experimentally, she did it again, and again, he laughed.

"Tickles."

Surprised, she let their eyes meet again. "It _does_? How? I mean, I don't know much about prosthetics. The metal feels warm to me. Shouldn't it be cold? How durable is it? How can you feel _anything_? And who would do such a thing to someone without their permission?"

"One question at a time. Being able to feel comes from the advanced cybernetics and programming in the arm. It works better than my real one. With it, I can pick up a piece of fruit without bruising it. I can feel heat, cold, pleasure…" he gently, but firmly reclaimed his hand, looking down with a frown, "…pain. It deflects bullets, resists Tasering, and I can kill a man with it." Abruptly, Justin moved past her to pick up a shirt lying on the changing table, and pulled it on to cover up the arm. "It's a long story how and why it was done. Not really in the mood to talk about it now. May not be for some time."

The emotionless quality of his voice brought tears to Rey's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away before he saw and thought she was crying out of pity, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Without her noticing, he'd moved to the doorway, putting distance between them. "I'll take you back to your car."

Rey joined him, and when he turned to go, she snagged his hand to stop him, the metal one so he would know she wasn't afraid. Surprise showed on his face as she moved in close, taking that arm and placing it around her waist. She did the same to the flesh and blood one. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she hugged him tight. And after a moment, he did the same. Her body remembered what it was like to be in Justin's arms, like a sense memory, and it was telling her that this was different. She told her body to shut the **** up, and just go with it.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Rey. What if…"

"Shut up and hug me, Justin."

He held himself stiffly, and slightly apart. Employing patience, Rey nearly jumped when he finally relaxed, accepting the comfort she gave so willingly, now, as she had in the past. Their previous relationship had flourished and grown from friendship into something more, and while Rey doubted they would go back to the way they were, at least now he had someone to turn to when life got to be too much for him.

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

"James!"

At Natasha's shout, Steve looked up in time to see his best friend disappearing through the chapel's swinging doors. He shared a stunned glance with Joi then Natasha. "Wait here."

He'd only gone a few steps when the pastor called out, "Wait! You haven't exchanged rings yet!"

Torn between staying and going after his best friend, Steve returned to Joi's side. "Can we speed this up, please?"

"Makes no difference to me, son. But pissing off your bride-to-be is no way to start a marriage."

Knowing the pastor was right, Steve took a deep breath. "Can we move the Romanoff/Barnes wedding down the list?"

Eldridge nodded, and made a notation on the page. "As long as you understand that there's no refunds, if he doesn't come back."

"We do. And Pastor?" He turned his attention to Joi. "We agree to the for richer, for poor, in sickness and in health as long as we both shall live bit. So, let's just get to the exchange of rings."

Shaking his head at what he perceived as impatience in the young, Eldridge sighed. "Very well." To Steve, he said, "Place the ring on your bride's finger." Steve did so. "Now the bride will place the ring on the groom's finger." He waited while Joi pushed the ring over his knuckle, and gripped his hand tight. "Repeat after me, I, your names…"

"Esmeralda…"

"Steven…"

"…ask you to wear this ring today so that every day, in every way, you will be carrying a part of me and my love with you." Steve and Joi repeated word for word, and looked to the pastor. "I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss your bride."

The relief on Eldridge's face made Steve want to laugh, but he kept it to a smile at seeing Joi's face. They kissed, briefly. Steve looked at the pastor. "Thank you, sir." He turned to Natasha. "I don't know what's going on, but _don't leave_."

Natasha grabbed his arm. "What're going to do when you find him, Steve? Drag him back here and force him to marry me?" Steve hadn't thought that far ahead. "If he doesn't want to get married, there's nothing you can do. I won't bind myself to someone who doesn't want to marry me."

He held Natasha's upper arms in a light grip. "I can still talk to him. Find out why he ran, Nat."

Joi turned her face up for another kiss, and Steve ran after Bucky.

~~O~~

With Steve gone after Bucky, Natasha's compulsion to do so waned. She took Joi's hand, and led her to the front pew to wait.

Pastor Eldridge followed, going down on one knee in front of them. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Romanoff. But this happens more often than you might think."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Pastor. If it's meant to be, it will be. If not…" she shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not the first bride to be left at the altar, and won't be the last." Gripping one hand, she gave the pastor a smile. "Go. You have couples waiting."

The older man returned to the podium, and consulted his schedule. "Kochanski and Lister."

 **The Lockwood Home**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

Sitting in the front porch rocker, Carolyn used her foot to move the chair while not reading the book in her lap, and taking the occasional sip of iced tea. She wouldn't be able to sit out after dark for much longer as the nights were getting cooler, so she was making the most of the time she had.

On nights like this, she often let her mind drift back to when her children were small. Watching them chase butterflies during the day, and fireflies at night. Playing ball, or throwing the Frisbee around, pretending to be knights in a sword battle, or killing dragons.

Now they were all grown, and out in the world. All but Justin. She missed him more than she could ever say. It would be the same with all her kids.

The front door opened, closed, and Martin dropped into the other chair. "Wool-gathering again?"

"The same as always. Ever wonder what it would be like to have him back?"

"Justin? Every day."

Carolyn closed the book she wasn't reading, and laid it on the table between them. "Should we tell the rest of the family?"

"Not just yet. Give it time." Martin placed his hand over her, and gave it a squeeze.

"I feel so selfish, wanting him back. Does that make me a bad person? That I can't move on, and be content with what I have?"

Martin stood, keeping hold of her hand, and pulling her up into his arms. "Not at all, Car. It makes you a mother, and human. Life has a way of working out the way it's supposed to, though not always the way we want it to."

"The pastor said that God answers all prayers, but that sometimes the answer is no."

He kissed her temple. "Don't stop praying for what you want, honey. Maybe one day, the answer will be yes."

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

Bucky thought he was mentally prepared to see Joi wearing Connie's wedding dress, but the reality proved to be more than he expected. The girl resembled her grandmother except for height, and Connie had been slightly more plump, but that had been due to the fact that she was already pregnant with Carolyn at the time. The ceremony had been performed by a friend who had agreed to backdate the marriage certificate so that Carolyn wouldn't have to bear the stigma of having been conceived out of wedlock.

He looked down at Natasha reciting the wedding vows, and his mind replaced her with Connie as she'd been the last time they'd seen each other. Her dark hair had long since gone white, and her face was lined with wrinkles. When out in public, they were mistaken for mother and son instead of husband and wife. And when they found out differently, everyone was certain he'd married an older woman for her money. Instead of setting them straight, Bucky just let it go, though Connie had been amused.

His mind was flooded by images, and memories, overwhelming him to the point that he had no choice but to move or go crazy. "I-I'm sorry. I can't… I can't do this."

Ignoring the voices calling out to him, Bucky jumped off the dais, and headed for the door. He pushed them so hard they kept swinging long after he was gone.

~~O~~

Standing in the lobby of the combination chapel, restaurant and bar, Steve turned in a circle, frantically searching for his best friend, certain he couldn't have gone far. And he was right. He found Bucky sitting at the bar with a dozen shot glasses lined up. His friend downed one, turned the glass over in the empty space, picked up the next, and did the same.

By the time Steve reached his side, Bucky was finishing shot number seven. The glass hit the bar with a thunk. He picked up the next one, and knocked it back. Without turning, he mumbled, "Go away, Steve. Leave me alone in my misery."

"I would, but we both know you can't get drunk."

One shoulder shrugged. "Maybe I haven't tried hard enough, but then that's my MO." He downed another shot. "Today could be the day."

Steve's anger on Natasha's behalf surged. He stood up, his chair falling over with a crash. Motioning the bartender over, he slapped a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. "That's for the drinks, and any damage that might occur in the next few minutes. If it's not enough, let me know."

"Damage?"

"Yeah. There may be yelling, and some fighting."

Bucky didn't get a chance to down the last two shots. Steve grabbed a handful of his friend's suit jacket, and dragged him from the bar, down the hall, and into the men's room.

Steve pushed Bucky hard enough to make him stumble. He caught himself on one of the sinks. After checking that the stalls were empty, Steve locked the door, and turned to confront his friend. "What the _hell_ is going on, Buck?"

Keeping his face averted, Bucky leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms, and staring at his shoes. "I can't marry her."

"Can't, won't, or don't want to?"

"Can't."

Steve shoved his hands into his pants pockets, stopping a few feet away. "You love Nat, right?"

Nodding, Bucky pushed off the wall to put more space between them. "From the moment I saw her. I know it sounds nuts, but it's true."

"And you loved Connie. She wouldn't want you to be alone forever." Taken aback when Bucky kicked the trash can, Steve readied himself for a fight.

"That's it right there, Steve." He paced in a circle, rubbing the back of his head. "I loved Connie, but I'm _in love_ with Nat. And to see her growing old while I'm still…" Bucky gestured at himself, "…I couldn't bear to lose her as well. I'd rather let her go than have to endure the pain a second time."

Attempting to inject humor into their conversation, Steve dragged out one of his least favorite quotes. "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

"Alfred Lord Tennyson was an _idiot_. Losing a loved one hurts like hell, and some of us don't get over it." Bucky leaned on the edge of the sink, head hung down as if he couldn't look himself in the eye. "You just don't get it, Steve. And I've only told one person.

"I settled for Connie because I didn't think I was good enough for anyone else. _I_ knew it, and what's more, _she_ knew it, and that's because _she_ settled too. The man she loved was killed overseas. We were still friends, and she came to me for comfort when she found out. It went a little too far, and…"

This was old news to Steve. However, he kept that to himself so as not to embarrass Bucky. He just let him talk.

"Yes, I loved her, but that came later, for both of us. And seeing Joi in Connie's dress… It just reminded me what a terrible husband I'd been."

"Everything I've heard from your family says otherwise."

"Because they never knew." Bucky laughed humorlessly. "When I was home, I stayed out late most nights, and lied about where I'd gone. I cheated on her, Stevie. Not just once, but nearly every time I was deployed. Only once when I was home." Steve's protest didn't even get started. Bucky put up a hand to stop any comments. "Yeah, I know what I told you at the gym about the women I'd slept with. That's just another lie to add to the list."

"Have you ever cheated on Nat?"

Bucky shook his head emphatically. "No, never."

"Then what makes you think you will once you're married?" The men let the revelations and questions hang in the air a moment then Steve crossed his arms, and planted his feet shoulder width apart. "Let me ask you this: What would Connie think of Nat?"

Bucky surprised him with a genuine laugh. "She'd be jealous as all get-out because I can't foresee any circumstances where I wouldn't have fallen in love with Natasha at first sight. I would've divorced Connie in a New York second."

"If, at any time during your marriage, Connie had fallen in love with another man, would you have given her a divorce, if it meant that she would be happy for the rest of her life?"

His friend scoffed. "Absolutely."

"Connie and I only met that one time. But from what Joi's told me about her, she would want _you_ to be happy too. And if Natasha makes you happy…"

Bucky stared at Steve as if he'd suggested he dance naked in Grand Central Station. "If?!"

"My point is Connie wouldn't stand in the way of your happiness. Natasha makes you complete. If you let her go, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, whether that's tomorrow, or a hundred years from now." Steve straightened his back, drawing himself to his full height. "Now stop being such a f****** a******!" Under other circumstances, the look on Bucky's face at his use of profanity would've been comical. But not today. "Now are you going back to the chapel of your own free will, or do I have to drag your sorry ass down the aisle?"

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington D.C.**

Lightning crackled through the air, followed by thunder that growled and grumbled its way over the land, sounding like a bowling ball rolling down the lane without hitting the pins. Justin released Rey, and went to the window. She followed, and they stood side by side watching the rain being blown in all directions by the wind. The board covering the broken windows rattled.

Crossing her arms, Rey exhaled loudly. "Don't suppose you have a car hidden in a secret underground lair."

"Just the bike. You'll have to stay the night. Or at least until it stops." He went into the nursery, and came back with a pillow and blanket. "You can have the bed, and I'll sleep on the sofa."

Rey shook her head, taking the pillow and blanket from him. "I'm good here. Don't want to put you out."

The irony of the situation didn't escape either of them, from the tone of her voice. "If you knew where I've been sleeping the past two years, you'd understand why it doesn't matter."

"Then if it doesn't matter, I'll take the sofa." She lay down, and covered herself. "Before you put the light out, where's the bathroom?"

Justin pointed to the left. "That way, on the right. Water isn't on, but I've put hand sanitizer, paper towels, and some bottled water in there."

She looked at him as if he were nuts. And it wasn't the first time. No, that had been in Discount Mart when he bought that ridiculous stuffed wolf for Gramps. In her eyes, he could see a multitude of questions that would have to go unanswered, at least for now.

He returned to the nursery, turning at the door to look back at Rey. She smiled, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Good night, Justin."

"Good night, Rey." He closed the door, leaving it ajar a few inches in case she called out to him during the night.

Lying in bed, Justin listened for Rey's breathing to fall into the steady rhythm of sleep. When it did, he got up, and carried the lamp down to the bathroom so she'd be able to find it in the dark.

In bed, he lay with his back to the wall. A defensive move that he'd never engaged in before being captured by HYDRA. Until then, he'd slept on his stomach when in bed alone, and spooned with Rey on those nights they stayed together.

It hadn't been the same with Sean. Well, at first it had. Then after a few months of living together, it had stopped. When Justin initiated spooning, Sean would often roll over so he had to move, and the cuddling would be over.

Sex had gone from every other night, to once a week then to once a month. When he finally asked Sean to leave, which happened to be around the same time Sean and his band had left for their European tour, they hadn't even been sleeping in the same room.

With Rey, it had been different. The first time she stayed the night was because she had car trouble. Justin had slept on the sofa, and let her have his bed. Seeing her in his sweatpants and t-shirt he'd given her to sleep in had aroused him to the point where he'd almost insisted they spend the night, and the next day, making love, eating whatever they could get delivered, and watching Netflix. Instead, he'd taken Clint's advice, and let it happen organically, and that had made it so much better.

He'd always had heightened senses, Gramps' genes of course, and with the enhancements done by HYDRA, Justin could hear Rey moving around, and making noises in her sleep through the now closed door and over the rain battering the roof of the old building.

Pulling the blanket up to his neck, Justin closed his eyes, and tried to go to sleep.

~~O~~

Rey jerked awake, almost falling off the sofa, uncertain at first where she was. Then, she remembered. Justin was alive. He hadn't told her how it could be. She just had to let him work up to it when he was ready.

Her bladder twinged. She covered a yawn with her fist, and stood. Down the hall, she could see the glow of the kerosene lamp, and smiled at Justin's thoughtfulness. It reminded her of their first date when he'd helped an older lady get from her car to the spot from which she'd chosen to watch the play. He set up her chair, put her cooler, cane, and foot rest in place so she wouldn't have to strain to reach them. And during intermission, he saw to it that she made it to the ladies' room and back. At the end of the night, he'd walked her back to her car, and waited until she'd pulled out of the parking lot to return to their spot.

It had been that more than anything that made her agree to a second date, which led to them dating each other exclusively, more because it was their nature than they'd agreed to a monogamous relationship.

On her way back from the bathroom, Rey stopped at the nursery door, listening make sure Justin was sleeping, and not lying awake all night. Satisfied, she turned toward the sofa. She returned at hearing him muttering in another language that sounded like Russian. Carefully, so it wouldn't creak, she eased the door open, and peeked in.

Justin was lying in a tangle of sheets, his head twitching, and his eyes squeezed shut. One hand came up as if to push someone away, his legs kicking so hard the blanket ended up on the floor near his feet.

He'd had bad dreams a few times while they were together, and she knew how to calm them without waking him. But would he welcome her help, or berate her for interfering? She'd find out in the morning.

Letting herself into the room, Rey tiptoed to the bed, picked up the blanket, and lay down beside Justin. She spread the blanket over both of them, and scooted close, wrapping her arms around him as if he were a child. Even in his sleep, he craved comfort. He held her tight, his head tucked against her neck, and soon, the restlessness had stopped.

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Rey kissed him there, and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

 **Seoul, South Korea**

The glow of the computer gave Helen's face a ghostly appearance, washing out her naturally tanned Asian features, and dark hair. Thor was asleep on the sofa, keeping her company while she worked late into the night because he didn't want her to be alone. She tried to tell him that the building was super-secure, but he insisted, and no amount of arguing would sway him.

From where she sat, she could see his feet hanging off the end of the sofa, and Mjölnir on the floor next to him. While he was down the hall in the men's room earlier, Helen had tried to pick it up, not surprised that she couldn't. How could she be worthy?

Helen jumped when the monitor above her beeped. What was strange about it was that particular screen monitored the condition of the subjects in the lab. She ran a diagnostic. All systems were normal.

At the main computer, she played back the last five minutes. She stopped it at sixty-three seconds ago, and paused. There'd been a blimp. Not enough to set off the alarms. If it had come during the day when they were fully staffed, no one would've known.

A hazmat suit hung on a hook in the corner. Helen kicked off her shoes, and put it on. She sealed the front, pulled the hood over her head and sealed it as well on the way to the secure room where the chambers were kept.

Once inside, she went to the first capsule, and performed a manual diagnostic. It showed the system at optimum. The same for the second capsule. At the third one, she peered into the face of the man, wondering what kind of person he'd been before he was turned into the thing he was now.

Again, the diagnostic came back clean. As she turned toward the door, she heard the blip again. A few seconds later, there was another.

Working as fast as she could, Helen checked the tube's system manually, and again there was nothing. She leaned on the edge of the console, looking into the tube, stumbling back a few steps when his eyes opened, and appeared to take a breath.

Alarms went off, sound shrill in the empty lab. She heard pounding, and glanced over her shoulder. Thor was at the door, concern marring his handsome features. He activated the intercom so they could speak. " _What is happening, Helen?_ "

"I'm not sure. There's an anomaly with Alpha, the one we tested the cradle on. If I didn't know better, I would say he's coming back to life."

" _How can that be possible? You said he'd been shot through the head, and there was an explosion in the place where he and the others had been kept._ "

Helen looked over her shoulder at Thor and shrugged. Ignoring him for the moment, she opened the tube in order to perform a hands-on assessment. His skin had been cold, and wax-like in texture. Now it felt warmer, but only by a few degrees. Once more, she checked the temperature. It had risen by fifteen degrees. The tube wasn't malfunctioning, so that could only mean one thing.

Moving as quickly as possible, Helen set the controls to slowly raise the temperature while continuing to monitor the subject's vital signs. All were straight lines. No changes. Then, there it was, a heartbeat. And another.

She rushed to the main computer, and sent a priority message to her staff to get to the lab as soon as possible. Within moments, she had received affirmative responses.

From the locked cabinets, she took out several pre-filled syringes. She laid them on a tray, wheeled it over to the tube, and went back for another device.

The sensors on his body told a fantastic story. His heartbeats were coming closer together, and every thirty seconds or so, his chest expanded. Helen took out a penlight, and leaned close to check his pupil reactions. She jumped back when he took a deep breath, and let it out.

Not easily frightened, Helen turned and ran for the door. Her hands shook so badly, she could barely enter her code. Then, the door opened, and she fell into Thor's arms, gripping him tight. The door closed and sealed itself automatically. Relieved, she let Thor hold her against his chest. When his arms tightened fractionally, she knew something was wrong.

Turning out of his arms, Helen moved over to the window that looked into the room, transfixed at the sight. "Oh, my God."

 **TBC**


	65. Chapter 65

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 65**

 **The Little White Church**

 **Las Vegas**

As they approached the chapel, Bucky stopped, and turned to Steve. "What if she won't forgive me, and won't go through with the ceremony? What if she tells me to **** off, and I never see her again?"

One side of Steve's mouth turned up. "So, convince her."

"Right. Convince her." He took a deep breath, and let it out, straightened his tie, and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm ready. I can do this."

Steve put a hand out to stop him. "Remember this: the first time, you got married because you had to. This time, it's because you _want_ to."

"I don't want Natasha to feel that any of this was her fault, because it isn't."

"She knows. Believe me."

Reaching past his friend, Steve opened the chapel doors, and followed him through. The pastor was on a break, and most of the pews were empty of those who were either awaiting their turn, or attended weddings as a hobby. Natasha and Joi were still in the front pew, talking softly.

Bucky tugged his cuffs into place, and marched to the front of the chapel. The women stopped talking, as did the rest of the audience. Steve recognized some who'd been there when Bucky ran, and knew they'd stayed to see the fireworks.

~~O~~

Without looking, Natasha knew Bucky had come back, and waited for him to make the first move. He came around in front of her, glancing at Joi. She took the hint and went to stand with Steve.

Bucky put out his hand. Natasha twisted her engagement ring off, and dropped it in his palm. Instead of pocketing it and leaving, he held it up. Letting their eyes meet, he breathed a few times then went down on one knee. "I'm sorry I left you at the altar. Please forgive me for being an ass." He took her left hand, the other holding the ring poised to put it on her finger. "Natasha, I've loved you from the moment I saw you. Will you please marry me tonight?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Steve standing a few feet away with his arm around Joi. He nodded, and Natasha knew that everything would be alright. She smiled. "Yes."

They kissed to applause from the onlookers. The pastor returned within moments with the organ player in tow. Steve went to have a short, whispered conversation with him, and he nodded with a smile. Taking his place at the podium, Eldridge looked over the group, and announced, "Romanoff and Barnes."

Natasha held Bucky's hand as they stepped onto the dais. Steve stood on Bucky's right, and Joi on Natasha's left.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, the joining of these two…"

Bucky cleared his throat. "We've done that. Can we skip to the vows?"

"Of course. Repeat after me, I, your name…"

Holding the bouquet in her right hand, Natasha looked up at Bucky, letting the love she had for him show in her eyes, and on her face as she recited the vows that had been interrupted.

Eldridge turned to Bucky, and without prompting, he stated clearly for all to hear, "I, James, take you Natasha to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship, and love you today, tomorrow, and forever."

Looking supremely satisfied, Eldridge said, "Under the circumstances, we're going to skip the 'I dos'." He consulted the book, though he had to know the script by heart. "Wedding rings are an unbroken circle of love, signifying to all the union of this couple in marriage. Natasha and James, repeat after me…"

As Steve and Joi had done before, Natasha and Bucky recited the words together. "…This ring is my sacred gift, with my promise that I will always love you, cherish you and honor you all the days of my life. And with this ring, I thee wed."

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief as Eldridge said, "I now pronounce you married. You may now, _finally_ , kiss the bride."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

Music played, and the couple danced, falling into the rhythm of their relationship once more. The song ended, but instead of letting Pepper go, Tony continued to hold her close. "That kiss before? Does it mean what I think it means?"

"I still love you, Tony, but I'm not ready for us to be back together again. Not yet. Tonight was an experiment, a test, if you will, to see if the spark could be rekindled."

"And what, pray tell, is your conclusion?"

She ran a finger down the side of his neck. "I believe it can, if you want it badly enough."

Taking her hand, Tony led Pepper over to fire pit. She kicked off her shoes, and took her seat, and he sat next to her, still holding her hand. "I do want us to be a couple again, Pep. Just tell me what I have to do in order to make that happen?"

Pepper moved his arm around her shoulders. "Let's talk about it later. I just want to sit here, and not think about anything more than watching the fire."

"Why are you really here?"

Leaning against Tony's side, Pepper gripped his hand. "My mother died three years ago today, and I miss her."

 _And you knew I'd understand_. Tony let Pepper take the comfort she wanted badly enough to let him think they would be getting back together.

 **Cameron Klein's Apartment**

Slowly, so he wouldn't wake Maria, Cameron got out of bed, picking up his discarded shorts on the way to the bathroom. They'd watched the most recent _Fast and Furious_ movie, and afterward, had gotten into a discussion about how the franchise would fare after the death of actor Paul Walker. They both professed annoyance with the acting skills of Vin Diesel, and agreed not to watch another in this particular genre.

What he hadn't expected was that she would want to stay the night. He got the feeling that Maria was lonely, though she would probably say otherwise. When he was done in the bathroom, Cameron quietly made his way back to bed. As soon as he lay down, Maria rolled over, draped her arm across his stomach, and wedged her knee between his thighs.

Just as Cameron was about to go back to asleep, Maria's hand on his chest moved down past the waistband of his shorts, touching him in such a way as to produce the exact reaction she'd caused.

"Mmm. Is that for me?"

The truth could only help him at a time like this. "Hasn't been for anyone else in over a year."

The leg between his thighs moved to the outside of his hip as she straddled him. Lying on top of Cameron, Maria smiled down at him. "Her loss is my good fortune."

He cupped the back of her head, bringing her to him for a long, hot kiss. Without warning, he held her around the waist, and rolled until she was under him. " _Our_ good fortune. What're your plans for tomorrow?"

"Don't have any. What did you have in mind?"

Turning onto his hip, Cameron lightly trailed his fingers down Maria's side, veering inward at the top of her thigh. She gasped, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss.

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Morning**

Rey's eyes fluttered open, seeing only the back of Justin's head. Carefully, she lifted the blanket, and rolled onto her back, preparing to get up and get gone before Justin woke up. A moment before she would've been home-free, he rolled over to snag her around the waist, and pull her against his chest, mumbling, "Five more minutes."

In less than a minute, his arm went lax. Rey wrapped her fingers around his wrist to lift it so she could go. The small sliver of anxiety at not knowing what his reaction would be to finding her in his bed dissipated as she got to her feet, and tiptoed across the floor. She gasped when Justin whispered, "No need to sneak, Rey."

She came back, and knelt in front of him. "I wasn't _sneaking_. Didn't want you to think I was taking liberties."

The small smile vanished. "Wouldn't do you any good. That road's closed."

"For repairs, or for good? Not that I have ulterior motives for asking. Just curious." The sadness in his eyes made her want to cry again, and she used all her will power to stop it.

"All the things that were done to me over the years, the hypnosis, the torture," he held up his left hand, "and the surgeries, I'm not sure sex will ever be on the table again."

One side of her mouth turned up as she moved closer, one hand on his shoulder, forcing Justin to turn onto his back. Rey lay beside him again, holding him close without letting her hands wander. "Oh, I do love a challenge."

They stayed like that for some time, just holding each other, and eventually, Justin's hand on her waist moved, rubbing up and down her ribs the way it used to.

"Would you do me a favor, Rey?"

"Sure."

His metal hand paused in midair then he laid it over hers on his chest. "Don't tell my family you've seen me."

"Another long story?"

"Part of the same long story. I've been keeping an eye on everyone, but I'm not ready to put myself back in their lives. Not until I know it's safe." Rey opened her mouth to protest, and he stopped her by kissing the back of her hand. "Please. For me?"

Reluctantly, she agreed. "Fine. When you are ready, I'll go with you."

 **Midway Hotel**

 **Las Vegas**

Lying in bed with Steve, Joi held her left hand up. "Mr. and Mrs. Joi and Steve Lockwood-Rogers."

Steve held his hand up next to hers, their matching gold band shining in the late morning sun. "I like the way that sounds, though it's a bit long. You should keep Lockwood as your professional name."

"I'm glad you said that. Now the show won't have to go to the trouble and expense of making changes."

"When does filming start again?"

She draped her arm over Steve's chest. "Not for a couple of weeks." It was time to bring up a subject she'd kept to herself too long. "I saw Justin last week."

His hand on her ribs stopped moving, and started again. "Where?"

"At the café. Believe it or not, Lupe's been giving him work, and feeding him. Gave the name Finn. When I confronted him, he denied who he was." Joi rose up on one elbow. "Who else knows he's alive?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

Rolling off the side of the bed, Joi gathered clean clothes from the closet. "I won't. And I understand why you didn't say anything before now." She came to sit on the side of the bed, holding the clothes in her lap. "A lie of omission is still a lie, but it's one I can live with."

Steve sat up, his expression grim. "I can't go into all of it, but I can tell you that he was involved in the attack on the Triskelion. I was going to tell you this week." His knees came up, and he wrapped his arms around them. "Bucky, Nat, Chase, Mia, and Sam."

"Who's Sam?"

"He's a new friend Bucky and I met while jogging."

"I'd like to meet him." Joi got to her feet while Steve reached for his pants. "Chase and Mia aren't soldiers _or_ law enforcement. What were they doing fighting terrorists?"

"I know you're upset. I would be too." He put his hands on her waist, and pulled her close. "They were instrumental in taking down a terrorist organization that had been hiding in plain sight for more than seventy years. And in doing so, they saved the lives of twenty million people."

"They've known about Justin all this time, and didn't say anything?"

Guilt dampened his spirit. "Justin sent a message asking us not to look for him. But that's not going to happen. Nat's already sent inquiries out through her contacts. She's waiting to hear back. We'll follow up on any leads we get. I'm sure Coulson's had a hand in taking down the terrorists too. Bucky finally admitted that Coulson was the one who sent two of his best to keep an eye on you."

Shocked, Joi clutched at him. "A few of days before we finished filming, a couple of SHIELD agents, May and Skye, appeared out of the blue, saying they were there to protect me." Steve inhaled sharply, and she tilted her head back to look at him. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Let's get dressed, eat breakfast, and go for a walk."

~~O~~

With no definite destination in mind, Steve and Joi took a leisurely stroll down the strip, taking in the sights, talking about moving to New York, enjoying their first day of wedded bliss. That is until Steve saw a group of women watching him. They whispered among themselves for a while before heading in his direction.

When they got close, the woman in front smiled broadly, speaking for the group. "Could we have your autograph?"

Steve didn't want to be rude, but they were interrupting time with his new wife. "I'm sorry, ladies…"

To his surprise, the women crowded around Joi, all chattering about "Rare Tastes", and what big fans they were. And the kind person she was, Joi answered all of their questions, and signed whatever they put into her hands.

Overjoyed at meeting the star of their favorite cooking show, the women waved good-bye, and the couple was alone again. Joi smirked at the look on his face. "Guess you're not the only celebrity in the family now."

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and huffed. "Gonna take some getting used to."

"For me too. I don't know how you do it."

"Not as recognizable without the shield, maybe." They walked in silence for a while, and Steve knew Joi was still dealing with the bits of information he'd told her about her family's involvement in the attacks. What he should've told her, but didn't, had to do with why Justin had been at the Triskelion, and where he'd been for two years. Steve didn't want to think about that today. "Where should we go for our honeymoon?"

Joi tilted her head back so she could see his face, and grinned. "That cabin's nice. All the comforts of home. It also has the virtue of being nowhere near other people."

"The cabin it is. Did Nat or Bucky say where they were going?"

"Back home for now. They miss the cats." She nodded, and they stopped to wait for the light so they could cross the street. "Too bad Nat can't have kids. She'd be a great mom."

Steve released Joi's hand to put his arm around her shoulder as they went into a souvenir shop. "She and Bucky are looking into adopting."

"That's what Gramps said. Older kids who are less likely to be adopted, siblings." She picked up a gaudy snow globe containing a miniature of the strip, but instead of white flakes of fake snow, it contained sand. "I think it'll be good for them. Especially after what happened at the chapel."

Joi handed the globe to Steve, and he set it in the basket he carried. "They've made it this far. They'll be fine. Better than fine. Nat is tenacious when she wants something."

"She has to be, dealing with this family." Her left hand found his, holding tight. "They're your family now too."

 **Novi Grad**

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

Surrounded by guards, all carrying Tasers and tranquilizer guns, Pietro and Wanda were brought before von Strucker. Through their link, the twins continued to converse. Wanda's inner voice stopped abruptly meaning she was putting thoughts in von Strucker's mind.

The scientist sat behind his desk, hands folded in front of him, and smiling. "Thank you for coming, children."

Pietro wanted to punch him in the face for that, and might have if Wanda hadn't gripped his hand in warning. "Not like we had a choice." He refused to debase himself by calling von Strucker "sir".

Von Strucker didn't comment as he gestured to the guard standing to his right. The man set two stacks of clothing on the desk, and returned to his place. "Today is your lucky day. Dr. List and I have conferred, and we've determined that you should interact with people outside of the base. People your own age." He stood, and handed over the two stack of clothes. "You can't go into town in your uniforms. Hopefully, these will suffice. If they don't fit, please tell the guards, and we'll find you something else."

Genuinely pleased with the turn of events, Pietro accepted the clothing, as did Wanda. "Thank you, Dr. von Strucker."

List entered, wearing a patronizing smile. "Ah, heading back out into the world, I see." He raised a finger. "Just be sure to return by midnight. We wouldn't want to have to send the guards after you."

Smiling in that overly sweet way his sister did when she wanted to punch him in the nose, Wanda tilted her head to the side. "Threats aren't necessary, Dr. List."

"No, no. It's not a threat, my dear. Just a reminder."

Before Wanda could say more and get them into trouble, Pietro nudged her, and motioned for her to come with him. They went into the bathrooms, and shut the doors. He felt Wanda's disgust at von Strucker's choice of clothing through their link. As he pulled the shirt down over his stomach, he grinned. * _Mine are just as bad. I'll find us something more suitable when we get into town_.*

** _I don't approve of your stealing, but I can't be seen in public dressed like this. He must've gotten them from his maiden aunt._ **

* _I'm coming out. No laughing._ *

* _*As long as you don't laugh at me either._ **

* _Agreed_.*

 **Seoul, South Korea**

With Thor standing guard at his insistence, Helen and John returned to the secure stasis room to do a complete work-up on Alpha. The monitor showed increases in the subject's vital signs, as well as brain function. They'd already taken several tubes of blood, and now had him on an IV, oxygen, and around the clock visual monitoring. He hadn't become conscious yet, but to go by the readings, it was only a matter of time.

John followed Helen from the room, both pushing their helmets off, and removing their gloves. Thor came out last though he had declined to wear a hazmat suit. "What will happen to him?"

Helen scrolled through the information on the tablet she carried, John looking over her shoulder. She answered Thor absentmindedly. "Not sure. We have to do tests to determine why he's alive when he was dead for almost five days."

"When the subjects arrived, there was no sign of decomp, Helen," John reminded her. "We should go over the cradle's programming line by line to see where it went wrong."

"And while you are performing these tests, what if the man should awaken?"

Glancing over her shoulder at Thor, Helen sighed. "If what I suspect is true, we may have to keep him confined, possibly for the remainder of his life, however long that is."

"And what if your suspicion does indeed turn into fact? That he and the others are these Winter Soldiers of which you speak?"

John took the tablet from Helen to make notes with her watching over his shoulder. "The Americans you find so fascinating have a saying, Thor. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Thor contemplated the meaning while gripping Mjölnir tight with the left hand, and holding onto Helen's with the right. "Then until you arrive at this bridge, I will stand guard over you and your people."

 **Novi Grad**

 **Outside the HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

Huddled in the back of the partially destroyed church, Wanda waited for her brother's return with some impatience and a sliver of apprehension. He could move fast, much faster than he did in the performance evaluations given by the scientists. But there was still the chance that he could be caught, or even shot.

A breeze stirred the papers strewn over the floor, and Pietro was standing in front of her. Wanda got to her feet with his help. He set the bag on the nearest pew, and together they pulled items out, sorting it into two stacks.

She held up the dress, black, long-sleeved, and a short, flared skirt that stopped at mid-thigh. "I told you to get me pants. My legs will be cold."

With a grin, Pietro reached into the bottom of the bag, and pulled out a small package. "That's why I got you these."

"Leggings. I suppose they'll have to do." Secretly, she was pleased with his choices.

"I got you a jacket as well, sister, and one for myself." He handed her a shoebox, and inside, she found a pair of ankle-high boots with silver buckles. His shoebox held a pair of expensive sneakers. He held one up. "Hopefully, these will hold up under the pressure of speed."

"What about the other items? The ones we hid before submitting to the experiments?"

Pietro's hand went into the bag once more, drawing out a rusty and dirt encrusted metal box wrapped in a piece of cloth. He set it reverently on the pew, and sat down to open it. Wanda sat on the other side, and together, they removed several bundles of cloth tied with twine. Her brother used a knife to cut the twine, and Wanda unrolled the cloth. Inside the bundles were the last remnants of their parents. Pieces of jewelry, rings, pendants, a bracelet that their mother had worn the day before she died. And one faded photograph of the family together.

Wanda held it up, feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. "I miss them so much, Pietro."

"As do I. But soon, our plan for revenge will be in motion."

"It already is, brother. From here on out, it will move forward at a faster pace." She gathered the clothes, and went behind the wall to change. "Did you speak to Anya while on your crime spree?"

In her mind, she sensed his annoyance. "I saw her. She was with a man, and very pregnant."

"Oh, Pietro, I'm sorry."

Her brother snorted a laugh that was muffled by the shirt he was putting on over his head. "The man was Hugo. Seems they have both moved on with their lives."

"As they should." Wanda pulled the dress down over her hips, and adjusted the sleeves as she returned to the pew. She sat down to put on the boots, pendant, rings and bracelet, watching him staring at his reflection in a shard of broken mirror. In the past few months, his brown hair had turned a silvery-white. "Put that down, Pietro. You look fine."

He set the mirror piece on the edge of an old table, and moved closer, looking her up and down. Wanda stood, and pirouetted. "What do you think?"

"I think Hugo will wish he'd been more than just a friend."

Warmed by her brother's sweetness, Wanda held out her hand. "Come. Let's get something to eat that isn't _Uzené_ , or those awful strudels."

Pietro took the offered hand, and tucked it around his elbow. "Do you know what I found while I was out? Novi Grad now has a Big Burger. They also have chocolate milkshakes."

Wanda smiled, and gave his arm a squeeze. "Mmm. My favorite."

 **TBC**


	66. Chapter 66

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 66**

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

 **Washington, D.C.**

"Tasha!" Bucky's excited voice called out to Natasha who was in the back yard where she was assisting Clint with building a screened in patio for the cats. "Tasha! Hurry!"

She dropped what she was doing, and ran inside, meeting him in the living room. He was carrying the laptop, and almost tripped over the coffee table. "What is it?"

He turned the laptop so she could see the screen. "We've been accepted by the adoption agency."

A delighted smile lit up her features as she hugged him. "That's wonderful!"

"Our advocate is checking with the orphanages in several different countries. Hopefully we'll hear something soon, though she said it could be months." Bucky closed the laptop, set it on the piano, and took her in his arms. "Let's talk to Clint about putting an addition onto the house, a couple of extra bedrooms. If we get older siblings, tweens or teens, they'll want their own rooms. I can move my home office to the bedroom, and turn it into a bedroom too."

"All good ideas." Natasha's phone rang, and she separated from him to look at the caller ID. Puzzled, she absentmindedly kissed the air in his direction, and headed out the back door with the phone to her ear. "Thor! It's good to hear from you… You're where? _Korea?_ When did you start seeing Dr. Cho? You're right. It doesn't matter… Isn't there someone closer who speaks Russian? Ah. You don't trust them… Understood. Let me see what I can do…"

 **Abandoned Church**

 **Washington D.C.**

A loud crash brought Justin fully awake. He rolled out of bed into a crouch, a knife in one hand. The noise continued, though not as loud. On his way to the hallway, he pulled on a shirt to cover his metal arm in case it wasn't Rey. A smile turned up the corners of his lips. Since the night he brought her here, she'd made it a point to bring him hot meals every couple of days. Her memory was sharp, and the food she brought were always dishes he enjoyed before all this HYDRA shit. One time, she presented him with a cooler in which to keep food cold. Upon opening it, Justin found that she'd filled it with beer and ice. She'd also given him a burner phone so he could call if he needed something. So far, he hadn't used it.

On his way toward the front of the church, Justin shoved the knife in the back of his pants, exchanging it for one of the handguns he kept hidden around the building. He sidled up to one of the windows and peeked out. A dually truck with the name of a construction company on the sides and back was parked in what had once been a set of handicapped spots. Two men were setting up a sign, but from here, he could only see the back.

The handgun joined the knife in hiding as he returned to the nursery for his shoes. A few minutes later, he heard a huge diesel roll-back coming. He had an idea what was going on. Outside, Justin pulled a glove over his left hand as he crossed into the baseball field and made his way around to the main street.

As if he'd just been walking by, he ambled up to the African-American man directing the truck where to put a roll-off dumpster large enough to hold roughly five truckloads of debris.

"Hey," he called out. "What's goin' on?"

"Someone finally bought this eyesore. It's being torn down. A day care is going up in its place."

Injecting casual disinterest into his voice, Justin glanced up at the building. "About time someone did something with it. Been sittin' vacant since I moved into the area. When're you startin'?"

"Couple of days. Why? You looking for work?"

Justin snorted and grinned. "Always. You hirin'?"

The other man matched his expression. "Always." He stuck his hand out. "Gary Ingram." 

"Finn Lambert."

"Show up here next Wednesday by seven, and you've got a job. Get yourself a pair of steel-toed work boots. I'll pay cash at the end of each week. Do well, and we can make this a permanent position."

Justin nodded. "I'll be here." He walked away, circling around to the back, and letting himself back in. A few minutes later, the trucks and men were gone. " _Dammit_."

Taking out the phone, he held it in his hand, thumb poised to dial the only contact: Rey. With a huff, he dialed. The call went to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. Going to the closet, he took down two duffle bags. One was for his weapons, and the other he stuffed with his clothes, and personal items.

That done, he removed the last of the food and cold drinks from the cooler, and carried it down to the bathroom where he dumped the ice and water out. He returned it to the nursery. Then, he retrieved the weapons hidden around the church, and packed them as well.

Now all Justin needed to do was wait for nightfall. In the meantime, he ate the food, and worked out where to go now that his home would be torn down. There were many abandoned buildings in D.C., most of which were being used a drug dens, or filled with the homeless. He needed a place where he could be by himself, yet, for some reason, he kept thinking about Rey.

On one of her visits, he'd been feeling especially lonely, and asked her to stay the night. He surprised her by inviting her to sleep him, just to keep him company. She agreed, and he'd slept better than almost any night since getting away from HYDRA.

Another night, she stayed after he finally told her everything he remembered. Justin was somewhat ashamed at feeling no remorse when she told him that the psychologist that had been planting post-hypnotic suggestions in his mind had died. Obviously, Chase had been keeping her in the loop, without telling her about him being alive. If his brother had said something, it wouldn't have been such a shock when they reconnected.

Every time he saw Rey, he felt an unrelenting pull in her direction, similar to when they first met. It grew stronger each time they were together. Did that mean he was falling in love with her, or was it just that she was the only person, woman or man, with whom he'd spent more than a few minutes or hours? Whatever it was, the sensation made him feel more… human was the only word that seemed to fit. The longer he spent with Rey, and watching his family and friends going about their daily lives, the more he wanted to be a part of it again. There had to be a way without putting them in danger.

 **Helen Cho's Lab**

 **Seoul, South Korea**

Subject Alpha had been moved to the infirmary where he continued to improve. He was still in a coma-like state, though Helen was certain it wouldn't last much longer. Thor continued to stand guard, often going for days without sleep. And while she was relieved that he wasn't staying at her apartment for days on end, she found she missed having him with her more than she thought was possible. Not that she was in love with him. She'd always preferred her alone-time, though it didn't seem as important as in the past.

" _Dr. Cho to the infirmary stat! Dr. Cho to the infirmary!_ "

Helen left the lab at a run, tapping her headset as she jumped into the lift. "What's happening?"

John's voice spoke in her ear as she repeatedly pressed the button for the infirmary level, trying to make it go faster. " _Alpha is awake though unable to say much, and when he does, it's in Russian. We need a translator before your boyfriend kills him_."

She ignored the comment about Thor being her boyfriend. "I'll be there soon. Try to keep him calm while we locate someone who speaks Russian."

Her assistant chuckled. " _Thor has it covered_."

"What do you mean?"

" _You'll see_."

A few minutes later, Helen entered the room at a run. She stumbled to a stop at the odd sight of Thor talking on a cell phone.

"… And how long before you will arrive, Natasha?"

" _Not long. Clint's here. He'll give me a lift_."

In the background, Helen heard the archer's indignant voice saying, " _Why the **** do you keep volunteering me for shit?_ " Their voices became muffled, probably due to Natasha holding her hand over the phone to prevent them from hearing him swear. She'd worked with Clint in the past, and his vocabulary could be colorful. Then, he was back. " _Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me, Nat, and I intend to collect_."

" _We can talk terms on the way_." She came back on. " _We'll be there in…_ " Again, Clint's voice came through the phone, this time too muffled for anyone to hear. " _Three hours, give or take_."

The call disconnected, and Thor pushed the phone into his back pants pocket. "I recognized his language as that spoken by both Natasha and Clint. We will have no problem communicating with him."

Though sedated, Alpha still struggled against his restraints. They wouldn't hold him for long, once he put his full strength behind any attempt to release himself.

Helen went to the bedside, and smiled down at Alpha, hoping her tone and expression would calm him. "You're safe here. And someone will be here soon to help us understand each other."

The man's eyes roamed over the room, and back to her. " _Kto ty? Gde ya? Kak ya syuda popal?_ "

She shrugged to let him know she didn't understand. "I'm sorry. I don't speak Russian." Taking his hand, she gave it comforting squeeze. "We're going to give you something to help you sleep, and when you wake up, someone will be here to help."

Without being told, John drew a triple dose of the sedative, and injected it into Alpha's IV. Soon, the man was asleep.

 **Novi Grad**

 **Outside the HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

The twins strolled through the streets of the town, pretending they had no specific destination in mind. Pietro nodded at a building up ahead. In America, it would be called Child Protective Services. "I'm told that the person we need to influence will be going to lunch at the café three streets over sometime in the next fifteen minutes."

"Good. We will follow, and take a table near him." In Wanda's eyes, Pietro saw determination, and a fair bit of smugness. During the night, they had returned to the HYDRA base, and without letting themselves be seen by the guards or the cameras, she made von Strucker and List believe that they'd been given leave to stay in town for the next couple of days. "When he returns to the office, he'll enter all the information into the computer. Once that is done, we will present ourselves, and he will believe that we had an appointment to speak with him regarding being adopted by an American couple."

Pietro held up a cautionary finger. "It has to be the _right_ couple, sister. Or even the right single parent."

Wanda huffed at him. "We've been over this, Pietro. It's being taken care of."

"Sh! Here he comes." He waved for her to follow. "Let's go."

"You're always in a hurry. Slow down."

He rolled his eyes at his sister. "And you're too slow."

"Patience is a virtue you'd do well to cultivate, if we're to be American citizens."

"You know, we're of legal age. We could just go to America on our own."

It was an old argument. Wanda poked him with an elbow. "How and where would we live? If our adoptive family believes we're underage, we'll be given a comfortable home in which to live. All our wants and needs will be met."

"What if they want us to attend school? I don't _want_ to go back to school," he whined.

"Neither do I, but it will be a small price to pay." Wanda watched the ground under their feet as they followed the man. "Have you thought about what we will do once we've exacted our revenge?"

Pietro shrugged one shoulder. "Not yet."

They arrived at the café, waited for the man to be seated, and took the table closest to him. When his food was delivered, Wanda sent a thin trail of red mist in his direction. Gently, so he wouldn't consciously feel it. By the time he'd finished his meal, she'd given him all the information to enter into the computer in order to put the next phase of their plan into motion.

 **Rey's Condo**

 **That Evening**

Sitting in her driveway, hands on the wheel, and her forehead resting between them, Rey just let herself breathe for a while, inhaling the scent of the Chinese food she'd planned on taking to Justin. When she arrived at the church, the sign in the yard, and the huge dumpster told their own stories. Still, she'd gone to the back entrance, and found it blocked. She called Justin, but there was no answer. He'd called earlier in the day, but hadn't left a message. Best guess, he was going to tell her that the place he'd been calling home was about to be torn down, and give her his new address. But why wasn't he answering?

She grabbed her purse, and the food, got out, locked the doors with the key fob, and trudged up to her front door. Huffing, she opened the door, and went inside, locking all three locks.

As she did every evening, Rey did a little dance step to keep from tripping over Cleopatra. The cat met her at the door whenever she came home, winding herself around her legs, crying for attention and food, not necessarily in that order. Mostly it was eat, bathe, nap, belly rubs, ear scritches, treats, and bedtime, with intermittent moments of psychotically running from room to room, or chasing things that weren't there. Sometimes, she would hide in the cat tree, and swat playfully at Rey as she walked by.

Rey put her purse on the counter, and the food in the refrigerator. One of her instructors had been out, and she'd had to pick up two additional classes. She was exhausted and sweaty. A long hot shower was in order. She fed Cleopatra, and padded down the hall to her bedroom, pulling her clothes off as she went, and dropping them in the washer as she passed.

From her bedroom window, she could see that the patio light was out again though she'd used one of the long-life incandescent bulbs that were supposed to last for years. This one had gone out in less than a month. Changing it meant taking the ladder out of the storage shed, and she was too tired to bother with it. She dropped her shoes in a corner, and went into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar so the steam wouldn't fog up the mirror.

~~O~~

With her hair wrapped in a towel, and wearing a short satin robe, Rey went back to the kitchen to nuke the Chinese for dinner. A light blinked on her phone to indicate she had a text. It was from Justin.

 _Come to the back door_.

Puzzled, Rey went to the bedroom, and pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek out, but didn't see anything. She leaned against the wall to tap out a response.

 _How do I know it's really you?_

To her surprise, a smiley face came up on the screen, followed by one word: _Hamlet_.

Rey set the phone on the dresser, took the towel off her hair, and quickly ran a brush through it. At the back door, she looked out, but didn't see anyone. Cautiously, she turned the locks, and opened the door just a few inches. "Justin?"

Suddenly, he was there. She backed up so he could come in then closed and locked the door.

~~O~~

"Reow!"

Justin looked down at Cleopatra winding herself around and between his legs, meowing loudly. He crouched in front of the long-haired black cat, holding out his hand so she could sniff his fingers. "Hey, Cleo. Miss me?"

The cat waved a paw in the air, and Justin obediently picked her up. Cleopatra rubbed herself all over his face, neck and chin, purring up a storm. Rey reached out to scratch the cat's ears. "Yes, she did. We both did."

He carried the cat into the living room, and sat on the end of the sofa holding her, while watching Rey moving about the kitchen. His senses were so acute, that he could smell the food before she even put it in the microwave.

The cat jumped down, and Justin went into the bathroom to wash his hands and face with Cleopatra at his feet, purring, and rubbing on his legs. By the time he came out, Rey had finished heating the food. Drinks were already on the coffee table. She handed him a plate, and kept the other, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa with one leg curled under. "I didn't know if you wanted chopsticks, so I brought a fork too."

"Haven't tried in a while." He unwrapped the chopsticks, positioned them in his right hand, and attempted to pick up a piece of orange chicken. Before HYDRA, chopsticks were one of the things he had difficulty using with any sort of skill, usually ending up trading them for the fork. He tried again to bring a piece of chicken to his mouth. It fell to the floor, and Cleopatra was on it like she hadn't eaten in days. Justin exchanged a sheepish grin with Rey. "Guess some things never change."

"Guess not." Rey continued to watch him with that odd little stare of hers that reminded him of Natasha. She looked down at her plate, pushing the food around with the chopsticks. "Why are you here?"

"I wasn't sure where to go. A construction crew will be on-site starting Wednesday."

Rey reached for her drink. "I saw. You loosened the bulb on the patio, didn't you?"

He nodded, and took a drink, holding his plate up so Cleopatra couldn't swipe from it with her fuzzy paw. "Didn't want to be seen by the cameras."

She finished eating, and got to her feet. And though he thought himself beyond such things, he found himself hoping for peek at what she was, or wasn't, wearing underneath. As she walked toward the kitchen, the hem of the robe fluttered against the backs of her thighs, making him want things he could no longer have.

"You can stay here for a few days, until you find somewhere else to go."

"Thank you." He joined her in the kitchen, standing next to her at the sink while she rinsed her plate. She took his empty plate, and rinsed it as well, leaving it all in the sink to be washed later. While they were dating, they would do the dishes together, and when her eyes wouldn't meet his, it was clear that they both were recalling the same memory.

"I'll go to the store tomorrow." She turned away to dry her hands. When she faced him again, they were so close together he could feel the heat from her body, reminding him of the times the dishes were forgotten, and they made love right there, too hot for each other to go the few steps to the bedroom.

Caught up in the past, Justin reached out to take her in his arms. She pushed his hands away, and without looking at him, left the kitchen. "There're clean sheets on the bed in the second bedroom. I'll get you a pillow and blanket."

~~O~~

Standing in such close proximity, in a place where she and Justin had made love, all the old feelings came back, battering Rey's senses, and dulling her thinking. To keep her wits about her, she scooted around him and down the hall to the linen closet, removing herself from his sphere of influence. She dropped the bed clothes on the bed, and waited for Justin come out of the kitchen to go down the hall to her room, and shut the door. Her pajamas were laid out on the bed, reminding her that all through dinner, she'd worn nothing underneath her robe.

She untied the belt, letting the slippery material slide off her arms to the floor, and put on her pajamas, a tank top and shorts. Not much in the grand scheme, but enough to make her feel less vulnerable.

In the ensuite, Rey combed her still damp hair, and twisted it into a braid. She brushed her teeth, turned out the light, and looked for Cleopatra. The cat knew when it was bedtime, but wasn't in her usual spot next to the pillow. She had a sneaking suspicion where her feline companion had gone.

Tiptoeing down the hall to the other bedroom, Rey had her suspicions confirmed. Justin was lying on his side facing the door with Cleopatra curled up in front of him, one hand on her chest so he could feel the vibration of her purrs. He appeared to be asleep already, which may or may not be true. He could've been playing possum, though she doubted it. The nights she'd stayed with him at the old church, he'd gone to sleep within moments of lying down. Most nights, anyway.

Back in her room, Rey left the door ajar so the cat could get in if she changed her mind about Justin. Rey didn't hold out any hope. While they'd been dating, Cleopatra had followed him from room to room, and slept curled up next to him instead of on the corner. It had been obvious from the moment he first set foot in her home that her cat worshipped him, and she let him know every time he was there.

Rey returned to her bedroom, slipped under the covers, and switched out the bedside light. She turned onto her side, pulled the covers up to her neck, and closed her eyes, certain she wouldn't sleep tonight.

Hours later, Rey was awakened by Cleopatra pawing at her nose. She gave the cat a small shove. "Quit it, Cleo. Go lie down." But the cat wouldn't stop. Rey rolled over, turned on the light, and threw back the covers. "I swear, if you woke me just because there's a hair in your water again…"

Cleopatra jumped off the foot of the bed, and ran to the door. She stopped to look back at Rey, her fluffy tail twitching as if to say, "Hurry up, human!"

Rey tripped on her robe still lying in the middle of the floor. "Ouch! Crap!" She picked it up, and tossed it on the foot of the bed then followed the cat down the hall to the other bedroom. The cat stood in the doorway, looking from Rey to Justin. Something had to be wrong if the cat went to this much trouble to get her out of bed at two in the morning.

Once again, Justin was in the throes of a nightmare, and this one was worse than the others. Like before, he called out in Russian as he thrashed on the bed. The sheet and blanket had been kicked to the floor.

She sat on the side of the bed, and skimmed her hand over his hair soothingly, whispering, "Sh. It's okay, Justin. I'm here."

Eventually, the thrashing slowed, and finally stopped. His right hand reached out, and she took it. "I'm with you, Justin. Sh."

When his fingers went lax, Rey laid the hand on his stomach, and stood. At the door, she turned at his mumbled, "Don't go. Please."

Uncertain if he even knew she was there, or was just talking in his sleep, Rey wavered. He sounded like a lost child, and Rey's heart ached for all the horrible things that were done to him. Leaving the door ajar, she picked up the sheet and blanket, spread both over Justin, and went around to the opposite side to climb in next to him. And just like in the past, he sought comfort in her arms.

 **TBC**

Russian (from Google Translate):

 _Kto ty?_ = Who are you?

 _Gde ya?_ = Where am I?

 _Kak ya syuda popal?_ = How did I get here?


	67. Chapter 67

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 67**

 **Helen Cho's Lab**

 **Seoul, South Korea**

While her staff tended to the revived Subject Alpha, Helen and Natasha conferred in quiet tones out of earshot. "…His CO asked for volunteers for special training at a remote outpost in Siberia."

"He doesn't remember what happened to him there?"

"Not everything. Said the plane carrying him and four other volunteers landed only long enough to let them off. They went inside, the doors closed, and they were shown to their rooms. Over the next few weeks, he and the others were subjected to physical endurance tests, blood work, MRIs, DNA tests, the works. That's the last he remembers."

Helen listened without looking directly at Natasha, as if she were only parroting responses. "I see."

Natasha watched her making notes on the computer. As it was in Korean, she had no idea what they said. Helen turned away, giving her the sense that she'd been dismissed. Natasha's hand shot out to stop the scientist. "He has a _name_. Don't you want to know what it is?"

Startled, Helen faced Natasha without flinching or even appearing to be concerned. "Of course."

"Senior Sergeant Arik, A-r-i-k, Orlov. He has no family or friends who might be missing him. Just the others with whom he'd gone to Siberia."

Thor filled the air with his massive presence. "This Orlov, he is a warrior, a fighter. My senses tell me that he is stronger even than Rogers, and that his mind is in chaos. There must be a more secure accommodation where he can be kept, Natasha. I would not want Helen or her people to be in danger when I am not here to protect them."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up. "Just one. It was designed to keep the Other Guy in check, and you saw how well _that_ worked."

"You are correct. Perhaps Fury knows of a place."

Helen stood next to the Asgardian, and he took the opportunity to pull her close. Natasha knew of her crush on Thor, and now that her greatest wish had come true, she appeared uncomfortable with his outgoing nature and the public displays of affection.

"Excuse me. I have work to do." Instead of releasing Helen immediately, Thor drew her into a kiss. Now _that_ , she enjoyed immensely, to go by the breathlessness, and dreamy look in her brown eyes when she was released.

Natasha left the lab and Thor went along. "May I ask a personal question, Thor? Feel free to say no."

"Unlike some, I hide little from those I consider friends, Natasha."

"Why did you and Jane Foster break up? You seemed so in love."

Thor crossed his arms, and for one of the few times since they met, he appeared ill at ease. "After her experience on Asgard in which she acted as a vessel for the Aether, we vowed to live together here on Midgard, and I would travel to my home as the need arose. However, after a short few months of sharing her home on the RV, Jane abruptly requested that I… her exact words were 'make yourself scarce'. When I inquired as to her meaning, she explained that the event had caused her much physical and emotional distress." He looked at the floor. "She often awoke in the night calling out in fear, and when I would attempt to comfort her, she would push me away."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Indeed. At our final parting, she said, 'We're from different worlds. Maybe they were separate for a reason.' Her final wish was for us to remain friends."

Natasha squeezed his hand in sympathy, uncertain how to tell him that his newest mate may sever their relationship for a much different reason. Maybe she could mitigate the effects. "A few words of advice. Don't come on too strong, or move too fast with Helen. She's the type of woman who prefers to take romantic relationships slow."

"Ah, perhaps that is why she often suggests that we spend time apart when I am visiting."

"Perhaps. Let her take the lead. Listen to what she's not saying as much as what she is." The lift dinged, and the doors opened. "And call before going to her home. She may be tired, or busy, or just want to be alone."

With a smile, Thor held the lift doors to keep it from closing. "Good advice." His eyes dropped to her left hand. "I see that you and your mate have tied the knot. Is that the correct idiom?"

"Yes. We went to Las Vegas. Steve and Joi are married as well."

The big man bent down to kiss Natasha's hand. "Many blessings upon both unions."

He stepped back, the door closed, and Natasha rode up to the heliport on the roof. Clint had pulled out one of the fold-up bunks, and was stretched out on his back, snoring softly. She shook his leg, jerking him awake. "Up and at 'em, Hawkeye."

Yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Clint rolled off the bunk, and shuffled to the pilot's seat. Once they were in the air, he asked, "How did it go? Find out anything useful?"

"Some. Mostly it's wait and see." She leaned on the back of his seat. "Cho's knockin' boots with Thor."

"Seriously? Did _not_ see that coming."

She slapped Clint on the shoulder. "That's because you're clueless." He flicked on the autopilot, and the friends moved into the back of the quinjet where he got them each a cup of coffee. "Are you pissed you missed the wedding?"

"Me, not so much. Eloping was totally within your character. But Laura, on the other hand… She was stoked to be the maid of honor. Planned this whole bachelorette thing. Games, weird drinks, food."

"We can still do it. Steve, Joi, James, and I are in the pre-pre-planning phase of a joint reception." She sipped her coffee, and set it aside. This next bit of news would come as a shock. "We're adopting."

Lounging on the bunk with his back to the wall, Clint scratched his chest. "Not sure getting a dog's a good idea with all those cats."

It wasn't easy to surprise her best friend, and Natasha was glad she'd decided to tell him the news in person so she could see his face. "Not a dog, Clint. James and I are adopting _children_. Siblings, preferably."

He sat up on the bed, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. "Seriously? You and Barnes are adopting a couple of rug rats?" With a huge grin, Clint took out his phone, thumb poised to dial. "That's fantastic, Nat! Wait'll I tell Laura…"

Darting forward, Natasha snatched the phone from his hand. "You can't tell anyone. We want it to be a surprise. Something low-key for the family, with a big blow-out at the reception." Clint's protest died in his throat at the glare she leveled at him. "Not a _word_ , especially to Stark."

"Fine. But only if Laura and I get to be the godparents."

"Deal." They tapped cups, and drank.

~~O~~

The door closed behind Thor and Natasha, allowing Helen to breathe again. She often became flustered just by his mere presence. And his constant displays of affection, whether public or private, left her feeling awkward and incompetent.

Subject Alpha, Arik Orlov, stirred, and she rushed to his side. With Natasha gone, they no longer had a way to communicate with him. Again, Helen leaned over and smiled, speaking to him in English instead of Korean. "Hello, Arik. Try to relax. We'll be done with the testing soon, and you will have a room to yourself."

To the surprise of the staff, Orlov responded in halting English with a heavy Russian accent. "I have drink please?"

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Sitting on the catio watching the cats play, Bucky and Natasha sipped tea, and talked with excitement about the children they would be adopting. "School's starting in a few weeks, Tasha. We should decide where to send them. I'm thinking private school so they don't get in with a bad crowd."

Natasha scrolled through the file they'd been sent by the agency in Sokovia. "It'll be hard fitting in, coming as they are from another country. They may not even speak English. Let's find out what they know, and home school them. At least for the first year."

"How long before we hear back?"

One slim finger swiped the tablet's screen. "Let's see… The website still shows pending. Adoptions, whether here in the US or overseas, can sometimes take years."

"Isn't there anything one of your contacts can do to speed up the process?"

She huffed at him. "We agreed to play this like a normal couple, James." Her hand wrapped around his. "I'll make you a deal. If we don't hear something in the next week or so, _then_ I'll make some calls."

He leaned close, a smile of affection softening his blue eyes. "What did I ever do to deserve someone like you, Mrs. Barnes?"

With her mouth close to his, she whispered, "All you had to do was be yourself, General Barnes. I was hooked from the beginning." The tablet beeped, driving them apart. "It's from Clint. He and his crew will be here bright and early Monday to finish the cat's room. He'll also strip the walls of the upstairs bedrooms, and put on a coat of primer. The current furniture can stay for now. Then, when the kids get settled, they can choose the colors, and furniture. The kids can also do the painting, with Clint supervising, of course."

Bucky nodded ruefully. "That goes without saying. The last time I tried to paint a room, Connie had to hire a professional to fix it." He kept one eye on Natasha at the mention of his wife, wondering what she thought about his revelations concerning their marriage, and was pleased to see that she didn't even bat an eye.

"I'm surprised she let you do it in the first place. You have _many_ wonderful qualities, my love, but being handy around the house isn't one of them."

"How can you say that? I put the cat trees together myself."

His wife rolled her eyes. "And it took the same amount of time as it did for Clint to build the entire catio, and _it_ hasn't fallen apart."

Placing a hand over his heart, Bucky groaned as if he'd been hit. "You wound me, Tasha."

"Just telling it like I see it." She stood, and picked up their cups. "More tea?"

Bucky nodded without taking his eyes from the tablet. He scrolled through the information on the adoption agency website. Like similar sites, it didn't have photos of the children waiting for loving forever homes. He mused that it was a good thing they didn't, or he'd end up adopting all of them. Like when they went to the pet adoption event, and came home with five cats instead of the one or two they'd planned on.

Natasha returned with the tea. She handed him a cup, and sat next him with her feet curled under. He draped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed up and down her bicep, loving the feel of her smooth skin.

Before long, the chill of the night drove them inside where they spent the next hour playing with the cats, and telling them that they would soon have new siblings.

~~O~~

Serenity parked in the driveway, shut off the car, gathered her purse and tote bag, and went inside. The moment she stepped in the front door, the smell of food cooking reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the apple around four.

She set her purse and bag on the end of the sofa, took out a small gift bag, and went to the kitchen to greet Collin and the cat they'd adopted from the same shelter where Gramps and Natasha had found their cat companions. Milo, a short-haired adult tabby with one ear missing, sat on the counter watching Collin cook. Every few seconds, he would toss a tidbit of chicken to the cat, who caught it in midair, and scarfed it down.

When Milo saw her, he walked over to Collin and batted him on the shoulder. Without being formally trained, the cat had taken on the role of a service cat, getting their attention by patting or head-booping. Collin turned to greet Serenity with a kiss, signing, _How was work?_

 _Not bad. The kids behaved themselves today_. She took her husband's hand, and drew him away from the stove. _I got you something_. From behind her back, she drew out the gift bag, and handed it to him. Puzzled, he reached inside, and took out the contents: a zippered plastic bag with a pink and white stick approximately four inches long. _Turn it over_.

He did, and on the other side was a small window with two pink lines. His mouth dropped open, and he looked at her, signing with his free hand, _Really?_

Tears stung the back of Serenity's eyes. _Yes. We're having a baby_.

Collin swept her into a hug, letting go when she pushed at his chest. _If it's a boy, we're naming him after my brother, Justin_.

 _Absolutely!_ His agreement made his eyes light up. _And if a girl… Willow?_

 _Justin or Willow Pryce?_ Serenity thought it over, and smiled. _Perfect. We can work on middle names later_.

Milo pawed at Collin, and looked over at the stove. Belatedly, Collin rushed to turn off the food. _When should we tell the family?_

Serenity shrugged. _Let's keep it between us until after my doctor's appointment Tuesday_. She could see her husband wanted to sign it from the rooftop, but he would abide by her wishes. _Oh, Collin, Mom and Dad will be so happy!_

Collin didn't respond immediately due to serving up the hearty chicken stew he'd made for dinner. He carried the bowls to the table, and Serenity followed with spoons, forks, napkins, and the salad. Collin brought them each a cup of hot tea, seated her then himself, and held out his hand. With his free hand, he signed grace, and she added an enthusiastic _amen_ at his thanks to God for their miracle child.

 **Novi Grad**

 **Outside the HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

During the night, after his sister had gone to sleep, Pietro broke into one of the stores that sold discounted clothing. Wanda would reprimand him again for stealing, but he didn't care. They needed to present just the right appearance to the case worker in order to move forward with their plan. This time, the clothing he chose was at least a size too big, and plain. Not like what he'd gotten them that afternoon.

It had been his idea for them to dress for their meeting as if they had been living in a foster home where money was short. His sister had already put the thought in the man's head that he'd already spoken with the foster parents regarding having the twins adopted by an American couple.

In addition to the clothing, Pietro also procured bags for traveling, and a few items from an antique store that they could use to bolster their pitiful orphan background. Together, they would create false provenances for the items, and when asked, would reluctantly share the stories with their new "parents".

In the morning, they would go to the adoption agency to speak with the case worker, and choose their new parents. For a moment, Pietro felt bad that they were using an innocent couple to further their schemes, but it was the most expedient solution.

He checked on his sister, asleep on the sofa in the office, before taking a quick tour of the old church to make sure they were still alone. That done, he returned to the chapel, took off his shoes, and lay down on the front pew to wait for morning.

It seemed like he was only asleep for a few minutes when Wanda shook him. "Get up, Pietro!"

He rolled to his feet. "What time is it?"

"Early. I want to get something to eat before we go." She dropped a stack of clothes next to him, and looked down at the plain, too large pants, shirt and jacket she wore. "Where did you find these? They're worse than the uniforms von Strucker made us wear."

"No, they're better because they've been recently washed, and are warmer." The last was muffled by his shirt as he pulled it off over his head. He exchanged it for the long-sleeved t-shirt in medium grey.

Wanda folded the discarded shirt and put it in his duffle bag, handed him the black pants, and turned her back while he changed. "Do you think they will come for us, or will we fly to America on our own?"

"Yesterday, I went to the library to do research. Most foreign governments require the adoptive parents to come and get the children." Pietro picked up his shoes, and sat down to put them on. "Remember, we must appear to be happy and excited to be going to America."

"Do not worry, big brother, whoever we choose will believe that I adore them on sight." She crossed her arms, and shifted her weight onto one foot. "What do you think? Shall we hug them, or wait for them to initiate physical contact?"

Pietro scrunched his face in thought. "You could peek into their minds to find out what they would prefer."

She nodded, her right hand grasping the pendant hanging around her neck, rubbing it as if it were a talisman. "That is reasonable."

"Just be careful when and how you use your powers."

They picked up their bags, and went to stash them inside the altar though it wasn't necessary. Their first night here, Wanda had put the idea that the church was haunted into the minds of the people who lived nearby. Most were superstitious, believing that the church had become a haven for the spirits of those who died when it was hit by a bomb during a service. Neither of them had seen any evidence of paranormal activity since their arrival. The truth could also be that any spirits lingering on the property had been frightened away by Wanda's powers.

Whatever the cause, the residents left their temporary home alone, keeping their eyes averted when they had no choice but to pass by.

Holding out his hand, Pietro gave her a confident smile. "Come. Let's get something to eat, and be waiting when the agency opens its doors."

~~O~~

Upon arrival at the agency, Wanda and Pietro were shown to a sitting room filled with comfortable furniture rather than a clinical office. Novacek sat in the chair at right angles to the sofa, watching as the twins scrolled through the photos of potential parents. So they could talk privately, Wanda smiled shyly. "Could we have something to drink, please?"

Belatedly, Novacek jumped to his feet. "I'll be right back. Juice, water, tea?"

Employing his most endearing smile, Pietro suggested, "We have never had a Coke. Might you have this here?"

The door closed behind Novacek, and Wanda used her powers to communicate with Pietro through their link over which couple they would prefer. By the time the case worker returned, they'd made a choice.

Novacek passed them each a bottle of ice cold Coke, and resumed his seat. "What do you think? See anyone you would like to know more about?"

Pretending to be undecided, Pietro scrolled between several photos. Wanda took the tablet, and turned it so Novacek could see. "We would like to hear about these couples, starting with this one."

The man took the tablet, smiling at the photo. "Ah, yes. Their application was approved less than a week ago." He tapped at the screen to bring up their basic information. "Recently married. He's retired from the Army. He now works as a coordinator at the Smithsonian. She used to work for the government. They live in Washington, D.C., and have five cats. This is the second marriage for the husband, and first for the wife. They have four children, ten grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. Oh, of course I mean they are _his_ children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren as she's the step-parent."

To make it look good, the twins asked questions about other couples, and allowed Novacek believe that the decision was difficult, waiting until the man had become annoyed with their constant stream of questions to let him off the hook, as they said in America.

Five minutes before Novacek was due to go to lunch, Pietro handed the tablet back, the photo of a tall, dark-haired man, and a petite redhead displayed. Wanda grasped her brother's hand, and smiled with barely suppressed excitement. "We choose them."

Relieved, Novacek made notations on the tablet. "Excellent choice, children. This couple specifically stated that they preferred to adopt older children such as yourselves. Their names are General James Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff-Barnes." He stood up. "I'll send them a message when I return from lunch, along with a photo, if you agree."

Together, Wanda and Pietro smiled. "Absolutely."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

 **Washington, D.C.**

Walking in a circle to keep her heart rate from dropping too fast, Natasha took a drink of water, and replaced the cap. She'd gone for a long run just for something to do, and so James wouldn't keep texting her to find out if they'd heard from the adoption agency yet. Though, to be truthful, each day that went by without hearing from their case worker chipped away at her hopes and dreams for a family of her own.

She went through her stretching routine, and let herself into the house. The cats were waiting on the stairs, with Priscilla, the spokescat, sitting on the table next to the stairs. She meowed to draw Natasha's attention to the blinking light on the phone. Natasha gave her a head rub. "Thanks, Pris."

Natasha climbed to the second floor with the phone to her ear, listening to her messages. The first few were from James, which she deleted. The fourth, however, was different. The man spoke English yet with a heavy accent that she hadn't heard in a long time. Not since she and Clint had gotten stranded in Sokovia when a mission to the Czech Republic went belly-up.

Her thumb automatically saved the message so she could play it for James. Knowing he was in a meeting, she sent him an urgent text.

 **The Smithsonian Institute**

 **Conference Room**

James eased the phone from his back pocket, and tapped in the lock code. The text from Natasha had to be important or she wouldn't have sent it when she knew he was in a meeting. His mild annoyance turned to excitement when he read the message.

 _Come home ASAP!_

Not caring that Wiley Redmond, the museum's curator, was in the middle of a long-winded dissertation on a subject he'd forgotten, James jumped up, and ran from the room, already fishing his keys from his pocket. He ignored the lifts, and ran down the stairs to the garage. Moments later, he was in traffic headed for home.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Unable to stand still, Natasha paced the first floor with her phone in one hand in case James called or texted back before leaving the museum. The sound of his SUV screeching into the driveway sent her to the front door. "James!"

"What's going on? Is it…"

Natasha grabbed his hand, dragged him into the house, and slammed the door before the cats could get out. While waiting for her husband to get home, she'd sent an email to the case worker, and he'd responded seconds before James arrived. She sent the email to the plasma screen, finger poised to open the attachment. "I waited for you to do this part, _moya lyubov_."

She clicked on the attachment, taking in the photo with a gasp. Tears welled up, but didn't fall. "It's a boy, _and_ a girl!"

 **TBC**


	68. Chapter 68

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 68**

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

"Oh, they're…" Stunned that this was all happening so fast, Bucky could only grip Natasha's hand as she clicked through the photos of the two teenagers together and alone. "What does Novacek say about them?"

Leaving the first photo on the screen, Natasha reclaimed her hand, using it to scroll the email. "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Fraternal twins, obviously. DOB May 10th, 2000, making them fourteen.

"Orphaned at the age of ten when their apartment building was shelled, and have been in the foster system ever since. Such as it is. Sokovia's government has been on the verge of collapse for more than a decade. They don't spend a lot of time looking for family, so kids under the age of seventeen are put with almost any adult willing to take them. Unless they receive a complaint, no one ever checks up on them."

"First thing we do is get them new clothes. Those are hideous."

Natasha nudged him with her foot. "Give them a day or so to get used to being here before the makeover, James."

"It's finally real, Tasha. We're going to be parents of two teenagers." Bucky scooted over so he could read over her shoulder. "I still remember what it was like to be that age. We have our work cut out for us."

"'Fraid I can't sympathize. My teen years were quite different."

The cats came down the stairs and took up positions in front of the screen, heads tilted at various angles. "So, what do you think, guys? That's your new sister and brother, Wanda and Pietro. They'll be here in a few days. Aren't you excited?"

As expected, they studied the photo for another minute then, one by one, they walked away without giving their opinion. Unless that was their opinion.

Taking his phone out, Bucky searched plane fares to Sokovia. "When can we go get them?"

"It'll take a week or so to sort out passports, and paperwork. Novacek asked that we show up a week from today." Tilting her head to the side, she watched him tapping at the phone screen, and snatched it from his hand. "We are _not_ flying commercial to pick up our children. Stark will lend us a private jet. That way we can get to know them on the way home."

He grinned, and took her in his arms. "That's my girl. Always a step ahead."

"And _they_ chose _us_ , James. Remember that."

"We would've chosen them, too." His phone beeped, and Bucky reluctantly released his wife to read the message. "Wiley's pissed I ran off without a word."

"She'll get over it when she meet them." Natasha got to her feet, and Bucky could see the wheels spinning in her head. "I'll call Clint. Have him come Sunday instead of Monday to finish the work on the cat's room, and leave the bedrooms until we know how the twins want them decorated."

"That works. We should celebrate. Oh, and get started planning their welcome party so they can meet the family. What do you think? Three weeks from Saturday?"

One shoulder twitched. "Tentatively. Don't want to overwhelm them right off the bat."

"Have you spoken to Steve and Joi? Are they still at the cabin?"

"Got a text saying they were heading home soon."

Bucky came up behind Natasha, put his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the neck. "I can't believe this is really happening. We're going to be parents, Tasha."

Natasha's slim body stiffened. She set the tablet aside, and laid her hands over his on her stomach. "Are you disappointed we weren't able to have children of our own?"

Shocked, Bucky blurted out, "What?! No." He turned her to face him, glancing over at the twins faces on the screen. "Any children we adopt, cat, dog, human, or whatever, will be _ours_ , yours and mine. Family doesn't end with blood. They need a forever home, and we're going to provide them with one."

Her smile made his stomach lurch. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"Ditto."

Rising up on her tiptoes, Natasha pressed a kiss to his lips, and he returned the favor.

 **Chase's Condo**

Chase held his phone in one hand, the wrist resting on his raised knee. What he had to say to Rey couldn't be left in a voice mail or sent by text. Good or bad, some news was best given in person.

The bathroom door opened, the light went out, and Chase's guest came rolling down the hall. He jumped to his feet, setting the phone on the end table. "Can I get you something else to drink? Help you to the recliner or the sofa?"

"I'm good here, for now. It's almost time for me to go. And another cup of tea, please." Iris smiled at him as he passed.

From the kitchen, he called out, "I appreciate you coming over. Everything's in my home office, and this made it easier."

"No problem. We got a lot of work done tonight." He heard the chair moving over the hardwood floors, and come to a stop in the doorway. "You know, that back room at Tunnel Vision would make a great office for the IT business. Your employees work remotely, and only come to the office for meetings, and such. That way, you can have your home back. Maybe turn it into a workout room, or a place to keep your sci-fi collectibles."

The single-shot brewer gurgled through the end of the cycle. Chase handed the cup to Iris, and started another for himself, ignoring her comment about collectibles. While that worked, he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "I have a gym membership at Fitness Works on Garibaldi."

"That's the gym my brother and I use. My physical therapist is co-owner."

Glancing away from Iris' intense gaze, Chase rubbed his nose with his knuckle. "The day I hired you, I realized your name sounded familiar, so I did some research."

Iris handed him the cup so she could back out of the doorway, and return to the living room. "And the first hit was the car accident that ended the promising career of Olympic gold medalist Iris Elizabeth Castillo."

Chase followed with their cups, taking a seat on the sofa, and setting her cup within reach. "Promising? Even getting _to_ the Olympics is an achievement. And _you_ received three golds and one silver before the age of twenty-one. You and Andre are the only brother and sister to compete in the same events at the same time in the history of the Olympics."

She grinned wistfully, yet with a touch of sadness. "There is nothing like the feeling of stepping onto the riser with millions of people around the world cheering you on."

Genuinely interested, Chase leaned close, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them. "Tell me."

"It's a cliché to say this, but it really is like Christmas, your birthday, and Valentine's Day all rolled into one. And when that chunk of gold presses against your chest, it feels like your first real kiss. The kind you get from a man you've had a crush on for months. He's finally noticed you're alive, and the kiss is everything you'd hoped for and more."

Her eyes lit up, her hands moving gracefully as she used them to emphasize a point, whether they were talking about the Olympics, the traffic between her apartment and the office, how the produce delivery guy is a putz, or the new accounting software she insisted they needed for Tunnel Vision. Iris had a lust for life that hadn't dimmed since the accident that left her in the chair.

"The doctors said I would never stand or walk on my own again." Iris leaned down to fold the foot rests out of the way, locked the wheels, and slowly got to her feet. When she got her balance, she let go, and smiled up at him. She spread her hands out to the side, and grinned. "Ta-dah!"

"And you were determined to prove them wrong."

She took one careful step. On the second one, she pitched forward. Chase jumped to his feet, catching her under the arms, and pulling her close until she was steady again. Instead of distancing herself from him, Iris leaned closer, her hands gripping his biceps. She tilted her head back, and smiled.

Taking it as an invitation, and because he'd wanted to since she rolled into his office filled with attitude and sass and charm, Chase kissed her on those full, red lips… And she kissed him back.

 **Rey's Condo**

Covering a yawn, Rey trudged through the front door, dropped her gym bag and purse in the bedroom, and backtracked to the kitchen. On the way, she unlocked the back door as had been her habit since Justin came to stay with her. He was supposed to be looking for a new place, probably something like the old church that was now a pile of rubble. He either hadn't been looking, or hadn't found anything suitable because he was still here.

Not that she didn't want him around. It was the fact that each night, the sexual tension in the air was so thick she could feel it closing in. just knowing he was in the other room sleeping, or doing one armed push-ups or whatever he did with the door closed made it hard to breathe. She didn't want to pry, and he didn't volunteer the info. In that respect, he wasn't the Justin she'd known, and sort of loved.

Rey spun around, dropping into a fighting stance to find Justin standing in the kitchen doorway. Relieved, she relaxed. " _Stop_ sneaking up on me, Jay."

"Sorry. Habit." His eyes scanned her body from head to foot and back to her face. "Go take your bath. I'll make dinner."

Too tired to argue, Rey waited until he moved out of the way to hustle down the hall, and into the bathroom. She turned the water off, stripped out of her workout clothes, dimmed the lights, and lowered herself into the hot bubbly water that smelled of lavender. Using a folded towel as a pillow, she lay back and closed her eyes.

Sometime later, there was a light tap on the door. "Yes?"

" _May I come in?_ "

She tugged the shower curtain most of the way closed. "Okay." The door opened, Justin stepped inside, and closed the door before Cleopatra could get in. He set a glass of deep red wine on the edge of the tub, put the toilet seat down, and made himself comfortable. Rey took a sip, and nodded. "Mmm. Zinfandel. Pasta with red sauce for dinner?"

"Haven't cooked since before…" He trailed off as he always did when speaking of his time with HYDRA. "Thought I'd try something more complicated than soup or sandwiches. See how rusty my skills are."

One hand came out of the water, waggling side to side, the bubbles dripping onto the bath mat. Rey let humor enter her tone so he would know she was at least half joking. "The grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches you made the other night came out okay."

A wry smile turned up side of his mouth. "If they were only okay, why did you have seconds?"

She picked up the wine glass, waving it in the air. "Same reason you had thirds and fourths. I was hungry." Sobering, she broached another subject, one on which they'd agreed to disagree. "Have you called Chase yet? Your mom and dad? Your grandfather?"

It was an old argument. Sort of. Rey thought Justin should go see his twin, who would break the news to their parents, but he kept saying he wasn't ready. What she hadn't asked was why he trusted himself around her and Cleo, but not his blood kin. In all the hours they'd spent together, not once had he made any aggressive moves toward her, except in his sleep. And even then, he hadn't hurt her, not even a bruise.

Justin looked at his hands clasped together between his knees.

"I'll take point, if you want. Pave the way, prepare Chase to see you," Rey cajoled, unable to take her eyes off his arm where metal met skin at the arm hole of the white tank tee he wore. Whenever he breathed, both moved, as if it were real flesh and bone. It reminded her once again what being close to him without the barriers of clothing had been like, and how, even now, she wanted to touch him so badly, that her entire body ached.

"Can we not talk about it?"

Not surprised he wanted to change the subject, Rey set the glass on the edge of the tub. It fell, and faster than the eye could see, Justin casually plucked it out of the air without spilling a drop. His reflexes had always been exceptional. However, this was several levels above that. And each time it happened, Rey didn't know why, but it got her motor running, imagining how much more intense those reflexes would make their intimacy.

What she didn't immediately notice was that in reaching for the glass, the bubbles covering her chest had floated away, leaving her bare. They noticed at the same time. She scooted under the water again, and when their eyes met, his had gone a deep midnight blue, a reaction that she recognized as desire.

Apparently, Justin had the same thoughts. He stood to go, but not before Rey's attention was caught by movement of a specific kind. Her mouth dropped open, and her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "Justin!"

Chagrined, he pulled his shirt down, but it didn't quite cover the evidence. "Sorry."

"You said that road was closed."

Finally regaining his humor, he went to the door, grinning over his shoulder. "Guess there's been some construction going on."

The door closed on her laughter. She finished off the wine, set the glass on the floor so she wouldn't knock it over again, and let the water out. As she dried off, Rey huffed at herself for forgetting her pajamas. She'd just wrapped the towel around her and prepared for a quick dash down the hall to her room when the door opened just enough for Justin to pass her the shorts and tank top she wore to bed. She snatched them from his hand, and though he couldn't see it, she wrinkled her nose at him. "Thanks."

" _Dinner's almost ready. Casual dress code_."

The smirk in his voice irked her, though only mildly. "Then I'll wear the causal tiara."

" _How does that differ from the fancy one?_ "

Rey loved that they'd fallen back into an easy camaraderie. "Smaller jewels. No heralds trumpeting my entrance, and no royal robes or scepter. I'll be right out."

Justin's footsteps faded in the direction of the kitchen, and Rey shook her head in wonder. Despite what he said about the holes in his memory, from the moment they reconnected, the friendly banter had been effortless, reminding her of the day they met in Discount Mart.

Standing in front of the mirror, she took her hair down, and picked up the brush, trying to see herself from Justin's point of view. She's known from her friendship with Chase that his brother was bisexual, leaning more toward men than women. How then did they get to the point of being intimate?

The Justin she met that day in Discount Mart had been sweet, charming, funny, open, giving, affectionate. All those subjective qualities Rey looked for, and more, and not just in a romantic partner. Still, even after they started sleeping together, in the back of her mind, she wondered if he would leave her for a man, or another woman, if the right one of either came along. Her insecurities usually reared their ugly heads after Justin had told a story about his ex. Those insecurities were not mitigated by the fact that he hadn't spoken or communicated with Sean in any way since their break-up, or that he always changed the station when Ambiguous came on the radio.

She twisted her hair into a braid, and was about to secure it with a tie when she heard Justin's voice outside the door. " _Don't put your hair up. I like it better down_."

How did he _always_ know?

 **Novi Grad**

 **Sokovia**

Naturally, the kind of work they were doing, manipulation of the DNA, could be done with computer modeling, but such efforts were only theory. The next stage was putting theories into practice with human trials. Most countries within the United Nations required that scientists get permission to move onto that step. That's why the lab had been relocated to Sokovia, one of many countries which were not bound by the UN charter, and whose laws regarding human trials was questionable.

Prior to the failed coup, von Strucker and his staff had been given free reign by utilizing the powerful influences of men and women in the upper echelons of HYDRA's hierarchy. After the coup, their unlimited resources had shrunk considerably, forcing them to fight and claw for every scrap, like starving dogs over a piece of meat.

However, tonight was different.

Von Strucker's team of scientists had made a substantial breakthrough with the formula that would turn Subject 497 into a super-soldier on par with Captain America himself. From the beginning, the man had complained often, and loudly. About the food, the clothing he was forced to wear, his accommodations, the attitudes and treatment he received at the hands of the scientists and guards. His room was too hot or too cold, never comfortable. The mattress was lumpy, and the sheets and blankets rough. And that was before the experiments had begun. From there, it had only gotten worse.

Eventually, he had to be moved to a room in the lower levels of the structure, an ancient castle that had once belonged to the reigning monarch of Sokovia. The family had been ousted over two hundred years ago, and put to death for the poor treatment of their subjects, and the castle was left to decay.

Von Strucker returned to his office with a bounce to his step. After the last round of injections, 497 had gone quiet, seldom speaking at all, and no complaints. Soon, they would move onto the next phase, a combination of training and programming, in addition to the injections.

Many years ago, when he'd been offered this position, von Strucker had gone over the original research, searching for the flaws that had forced Zola to go at the problem of control from another angle. It had taken Zola twenty years to turn the first subject into the fist of HYDRA because he'd been unusually resistant to post-hypnotic suggestions. His subconscious had to be whittled away a little at a time until he obeyed commands without fighting the hypnosis.

Von Strucker made a silent growl of frustration that decades of hard work by HYDRA's scientists had been undone by one hundred and seven pounds of Russian outrage. Apparently, all the woman had to do was flash a smile at the original, and it all came unraveled. Like pulling a loose thread on an expensive sweater.

He wouldn't allow past failures to dim his elation for their most recent success, however. He seated himself behind the desk just as List joined him. "You've heard the news, I take it, Hans."

"I have indeed, Wolfgang." List clapped his hands together with glee. "This is cause for celebration. Shall I open a bottle of the Riesling?"

"A success such as this deserves more than a mediocre bottle of white wine." Von Strucker rolled his sleeves down, and buttoned the cuffs. List was there to hand him his suit jacket. "We will drive into town for dinner, and bask in our accomplishments."

The scientists made their way to ground level, von Strucker leading the way to a shiny black nearly new Škoda. List stopped him with a touch on the arm. "You're driving?"

"It is an indulgence I seldom have time for. Tonight, only the best will do."

Once they'd passed through the many layers of security, von Strucker turned the Škoda toward Novi Grad, the capital city of Sokovia, and List ventured a question. "Do you think the twins will ever regain the memories of their time with the program?"

Von Strucker adjusted his monocle. "No. It is a shame that the experiments were a failure. I was genuinely fond of them. But they are better off not remembering, or they might harbor ill will that they were genetically unsuitable."

"Just between you and me, Wolfgang, the girl often made me feel uncomfortable with her soul-penetrating gaze, as if she were reading my mind, and found me lacking."

The older man chuckled, not with humor, but irony. "She had the same effect on others as well."

"Sad really. I was sure that she and her brother would be our greatest triumphs." List shook his head, and looked out the window.

"Cheer up, Hans. We have Subject 497. His original persona had been trained in many aspects of hand-to-hand combat, weapons, infiltration, tactics, night combat, and more. He speaks five languages fluently, and with the enhancements, will quickly learn others.

The car came to a stop in front of a bustling café. The men got out, and went inside to be seated. As was his habit, von Strucker scanned the room, seeing nothing out of place.

They were shown to a table near the bar, opened their menus, and settled in for their celebratory meal.

~~O~~

Sitting in the small café, staring into space, Wanda waited for Pietro to join her. Since the day she convinced von Strucker to let them leave the compound, Pietro would go for a long run to burn off excess energy. Not that it did much good. Von Strucker described his power as greatly increased metabolism, and increased homeostasis, meaning his body burned fuel quickly, regulate his core body temperature, blood glucose, blood oxygen content, blood pressure, and a host of other metabolic processes. It allowed him to heal fast as well. He also thought at superhuman speeds far and above that of the average human. To him, most of the world seemed to move in slow motion, even her.

Sokovia had no legal drinking age, and so they decided to commemorate their good fortune with wine and a nice dinner. A gust of wind blew past the café, and suddenly, Pietro was sitting across from her. Instead of being tired, he appeared exhilarated. He picked up the menu. "Let's order. I'm _starving_."

Wanda opened her menu, and scanned the offerings. "You weren't gone long. How far did you go?"

"Just to Amsterdam, over to Brussels, and back through Munich, where I picked up a baby gift for Anya and Hugo. Left it on their doorstep before coming here."

The server came to the table, and from her expression, it had been a long shift. "What would you like to drink?"

Smiling, Wanda rubbed her fingers together, and flicked a wisp of red mist in the woman's direction. "A bottle of wine, nothing too pricey."

The woman perked up as she scribbled on her pad. "Will Riesling do? Produced in the Moravia region of Czechia."

"That will be fine. And some water please."

As the server turned away, Pietro called out, "And biscuits. Lots of them."

He closed the menu, and put it aside. Wanda looked at her brother with a smile. "In a few days, Pietro, we'll be in America, and will want for nothing."

The server returned with their wine, followed by a young man carrying a basket of biscuits, and small bowls of butter, honey, and fruit preserves. "Are you ready to order?"

~~O~~

Their food arrived, and the twins waited for the server and her helper to leave before continuing their conversation. Speaking around a mouthful of Vepřová Pečenĕ, Pietro commented, "I can't believe our luck."

His sister's manners were a little more refined than his. She swallowed, took a sip of wine, and dabbed at her mouth before responding. "Who could have predicted that one of the Avengers would be willing to adopt two children from a former cold war country?"

"And because the wife is an Avenger, living with them will get us much closer to our objective than we anticipated." Pietro refilled both their glasses. Wanda drank half the wine, set the glass on the table, picked up her fork, and cut a bite of Varenyky.

"I imagine that we will be introduced to the others in due time. And once we have their trust, revenge, as they say, will be a dish best served cold."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Where did you hear that, brother?"

"It's from one of the American films shown at the cinema where we learned to speak English."

"I must've missed that one." She raised her glass of wine, holding it in front of her face, keeping her voice low. "Do not turn around, Pietro."

Why was it that when someone said 'don't turn around' you immediately wanted to do just that? While pondering the thought, Pietro kept his gaze firmly on his sister's face. "What is it?"

She lifted her chin, and the look in her eyes changed to one of distrust. "Not what. _Who_. Von Strucker and his lapdog List just came in. They are here for the same reason as we are, a celebration."

"Good. Have them pay for our meal."

Wanda's right hand clenched on her napkin while she concentrated. "Done." She opened her hand, and smoothed the wrinkles from the cloth. "They believe that their most recent experiments involving Jasper will yield the results they've been looking for."

Pietro wiped his mouth, and picked up the glass of water. "Why does this not feel like a good thing?"

"Because it is _not_ a good thing… for Jasper. They intend on making him into something called the Winter Soldier."

 **TBC**

Vepřová Pečenĕ is Czech pork roast, with dumplings, sauerkraut, and is served with Pilsner.

Varenyky are potato- and porcini mushroom-stuffed Ukrainian dumplings that look like large ravioli, and are served with butter, fresh herbs, fried onions, or sour cream with dill.

 _The Lego Movie_ is a 2014 3D computer-animated adventure-comedy film based on the Lego line of construction toys.

Škoda Auto, more commonly known as Škoda, is a Czech automobile manufacturer founded in 1895 as Laurin & Klement. It is headquartered in Mladá Boleslav, Czech Republic.


	69. Chapter 69

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 69**

 **Rey's Condo**

Normally, Rey was talkative while they were eating, but not tonight. They sat on the sofa, eating dinner, and watching a movie that didn't have her full attention. Justin didn't blame her. He found it boring too.

Cleopatra had coerced as much of his meal as she could, gave herself a bath, and wandered down the hall to Rey's bedroom. That left them alone with no buffer, nothing between them but air.

The remote lay next to him on the sofa, and he used it to shut off Netflix. "Let's watch something else."

Rey sighed dramatically, waving at the DVDs arranged on the shelves of the entertainment center. "Please."

Justin carried his and Rey's dishes to the kitchen, filled the sink with hot soapy water, and put them in to soak. In the living room, he crouched to scan the titles. At least half he'd never heard of. Then he saw one that intrigued him: _The Lego Movie_. He pulled it out, knocking another off the shelf. The other DVD was in a thin clear case. _Rey-Rey_ was written on the disc, along with the year 2012. He set the other DVD back on the shelf, and stood, holding the one with her name on it. "How did you get this?"

His words weren't said in an accusing manner, and Rey didn't take offense. She came to his side, and took it from him. "Chase found it in with some of the things he collected from your condo."

He walked past her to the window that looked into the neighbor's small side garden, arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart.

From across the room, he heard Rey replace the DVD, and sigh. "What did you _expect_ us to do, Justin? We thought you were _dead_."

Her feet whispered over the carpet, and stopped at the entrance to the hallway. Justin had thought she would come to comfort him, but she didn't. "It was a sweet gesture, Justin. At least until you went on a ramble about plot holes in the Tom Cruise movie that came out just before Christmas."

Dropping his arms to his sides, Justin turned, and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. Five-five, slim and strong due to running, and the yoga and Pilates classes she taught. Limpid hazel eyes, with a few freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and nose. Waist length dark brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

She stood with her weight on one foot, the shoulder on that side leaning on the wall. The other leg was bent at the knee, with the heel slightly raised. Her fair skin still looked flawless. Justin knew that if he drew his fingers along the top of her bare foot, over the calf to that ticklish spot behind her knee, and continued up the back of her thigh, that each and every inch would feel silky smooth. And if it didn't, who cared? In his eyes, Rey would always be beautiful.

While he was staring and thinking, he crossed the room, stopping in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. Slowly, so he wouldn't scare her, Justin reached out to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. She inhaled sharply and looked away when his finger grazed the side of her neck.

In his mind, Justin saw scenes from their past unfold as if he were watching a movie. How her breath hitched when he nibbled on that spot behind her left ear, and her hands clenched on handfuls of his shirt, or the nails dug into his skin, if he was shirtless. And his body's answering call at the whimpering sound in the back of her throat when he touched her just so.

Rey moved, swaying toward him ever so slightly. Then she smiled wryly. "Didn't do it on purpose."

Still making his way from the past to the present, Justin shook his head. "What?"

"Show off the girls." She crossed her arms, the movement causing her breasts to jiggle, and Justin couldn't take his eyes off of them, or her.

"And my reaction was involuntary. Cause and effect."

One side of her mouth turned up in a flirty half-smile. "You say that like I should be sorry, but I'm not."

Resting his left arm on the wall at shoulder height, Justin leaned close, matching her smile, and provocative tone. "Neither am I."

In the blink of an eye, they were locked in a passionate kiss. Desperate to feel her supple body along the length of him, he turned them to drive her against the wall, leaning back so he could look into her eyes. He needed to feel the fullness of her breasts pressing into his chest, searing his flesh, marking him as hers. Oh, so slowly he dragged his palms up her ribs until his thumbs touched the underside of her breasts. Rey's lips parted in a silent gasp. Justin took advantage, and kissed her again.

 **Tennessee**

 **The Cabin**

In the mountains, nights could be cold. While it didn't bother Steve, Joi preferred the warmth of a crackling fire. With the lights out, they lounged on the sofa, Joi's legs over his lap. He rubbed his palm up and down one leg over the cotton pajama pants she wore, watching the fire, and wondering what was going on with Bucky and Natasha.

"Got an email from Bella today. We're due to start shooting again in two weeks."

"Did you tell her you couldn't possibly leave your new husband so soon?"

Joi swung her legs down and sat up. "Want it to be a surprise. If I tell her, she tells Laz, and he tells anyone who will listen, whether they speak English or not."

He pulled her close to his side. "When did we decide to keep our marriage a secret?"

She huffed, and poked him in the ribs. "Since never. But once the world know that Captain America went and got married, the press won't leave us alone. And I want you all to myself for a little longer. Is that a crime?"

Steve kissed her temple, and rubbed his cheek on her hair. "I'll get my stuff out of storage and from Bucky's, and move into the condo while you're gone."

Joi's hand snaked around his neck to bring him down for a kiss. "And when I get back, we'll finally be living together in wedded bliss."

Hooking a hand behind her knees, Steve brought Joi onto his lap, and kissed her again. And as it had from the beginning, being close to her fueled his amorousness. He broke the kiss long enough to slid one arm under her knees, and the other behind her back as he stood, and carried his wife into the bedroom.

 **Chase's Condo**

Their lips parted, and Iris leaned back to search Chase's face for some clue as to what he was thinking. Without a word, he loosened his hold, helping her balance as she returned to her wheelchair.

Turning away in embarrassment, he picked up her cup of tea and passed it over. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"Don't be. It was me, all me."

Chase shook his head, and downed the last of his tea, making a face at the taste. "You came here to work, Iris, not have some sex-crazed lunatic grope you."

She planted an elbow on the padded armrest, and laid her head in the palm. "First, there was no groping on either part. And second, while I agree that one of us could possibly be sex-crazed, or maybe just a little bit horny, it wasn't you." Looking Chase in the eye, Iris smiled. "I tripped on purpose."

His eyes widened slightly then he returned her sheepish smile. "I'll take that as a compliment." He aimed a nod at her cup. "More tea?"

"No thanks. I have to get home. Got PT in the morning."

"You could stay here." At her smirk, Chase realized what he said. "Oh, that's not what I meant. I have an air mattress I can use while you take the bed, and I can even give you something to sleep in. It _is_ my fault you're up late."

Pursing her lips, Iris rolled backward, turned and went toward the door. "I'm good. Used to staying up late. However, I _will_ need help getting down the steps."

He bowed low. "As you wish m'lady." Chase opened the front door, and came around to the back of the chair. He tilted the front wheels up, eased her down the three steps to the sidewalk, pulled the door shut, and joined her. "May I walk you to your car?"

Once she was in the driver's seat, and the chair was tucked behind the front seat, Iris started the engine, and rolled the window down. "I should be in around eleven or so."

Chase waved a hand. "Take all the time you need. You're doing me a big favor by taking on both businesses."

"Happy to do it. After my accident, I spent so much time staring at the walls of my hospital room then my bedroom, feeling sorry for myself, until I realized that just because I couldn't swim and dive didn't mean I was dead."

He crouched next to the car so their faces were almost level. "You can tell me about it later. Go home, and get some sleep."

On an impulse, Iris motioned him closer, and kissed him again. "'Night."

Iris watched Chase in the rear view mirror until she turned a corner. He really was a sweet man, an exceptional businessman, and a fantastic kisser. And now that she'd made a pass at him, she wondered if it was the best thing for either of them. Getting involved with someone you work with was tricky. If you stayed together, great. If not, then they were stuck in an awkward situation until it got to a point where she would have no choice but to leave.

Iris pulled to a stop at the light. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Castillo. It was just two kisses. You haven't even gone on a date yet." The light changed, and she moved through the intersection. "Give him, oh, two weeks, and then you do the asking."

When she reached home, Iris pulled into the driveway next to her brother's Mustang, and got herself into the chair. With her purse on her lap, she rolled to the door and up the low ramp into the front hallway where she was greeted by her service dog, a black and white border collie named Dakota. She rubbed the dog's neck, and submitted to kisses. "Hey, boy. Did you miss me? Sorry I couldn't take you tonight. Didn't know if my boss was allergic." Dakota walked beside the chair into the living room. "Starting tomorrow, you're going to work with me."

She tossed her purse on the sofa, and continued through the house, down the hall to her room. Dakota shut the door, and waited to be needed. Iris locked the wheels, took off her shoes and socks, and reached for her pajamas.

When she was dressed for bed, the dog nudged a rolling walker over, and she used it to go into the bathroom. Through intense therapy, Iris had eventually regained control over her bodily functions to the point where she no longer had to wear a catheter or adult diapers. She pretty much took care of herself, with a little help from Andre, and Dakota.

Iris was drying her face when she heard Dakota whining at her feet. "What's wrong, boy?" She looked down, and he had her purse in his mouth. There was a beep, telling her she had a message. She gave Dakota an ear rub, and fished the phone out. The text was from Chase.

 _Dinner Saturday night?_

Shaking her head, Iris tapped out, _Won't they need you at the club?_

 _Alex can handle it. Besides, I'll have my phone_. While she was thinking it over, he sent another text of a dog panting. _Don't make me use the puppy eyes_.

That made her laugh out loud. _Oh, no! Not the puppy eyes! Okay. Yes, I'll go to dinner with you_.

 _Cool. We'll work out the deets during the week. Night_.

 **Rey's Condo**

Rey arched her back, begging for Justin's touch, moaning in frustration as he pulled his hand from under her top to lightly brush his fingertips over the sensitive skin of her underarms to hold onto her wrists. He slid them up the wall over her head without their eyes losing contact, careful not to hold on too tight.

She slowly pulled downward, and he opened his fingers to let her free. And as he'd done before, she rubbed her palms from the wrists to his shoulders, her mind barely registering the differences between his metal and flesh arms. At the shoulders, she drew her fingers along the hard edge of his collarbones to the sides of his throat.

Then, time seemed to dilate, folding in on itself, and when Rey became aware of her surroundings again, she and Justin were on her bed, clothes flying everywhere. That awareness was there and gone in less than a heartbeat, driven out by a passionate and sensuous torment.

In the other room, Rey's phone vibrated across the table, and onto the floor. Cleopatra sat watching the pulsing of the contact photo until it stopped. The pop-up showed five missed calls, all from the same number.

A few minutes later, it happened again. This time the cat pawed at the screen, accidentally answering the call. " _Hello? Celeste? Are you there? It's Chase. I've left like_ _five_ _messages. If you don't call me back by midnight, I'm coming over._ "

 **Novi Grad**

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

In the past, Sitwell had moderated his food intake to keep his body trim. Now, it seemed, he couldn't get enough to eat. He felt like a teenager in the midst of a growth spurt. And yet, he hadn't gained weight. To the contrary, he felt stronger, and had more stamina than ever before. His muscles had greater definition, and had gained several inches in height. He no longer needed his glasses, and his bald head now had three inches of dark brown hair.

He didn't know what von Strucker and List were doing to him, but he kind of liked it. Was this how the Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers felt during the process that turned them into super-soldiers? Is that what they were doing to him? If so, then he was all for it.

As yet, his captors hadn't tested his strength. Sitwell's gaze landed on the small cabinet in the corner. Making a fist, he drew back, and drove a punch through the top. He pulled his hand free, turning it over to examine the knuckles. Not a scratch. And nothing was left of the thing but broken pieces of plastic. Holding his hands up, he turned them over, and laughed. He could take out his enemies with a single blow. If he wanted to leave, who would be able to stop him? No one!

Leaning close to the glass, Sitwell peered down the hallway, wondering what had happened to the two teenagers who'd been here when he first arrived. From here, their cells appeared empty. The man who'd spoken to him that first day was long gone. Did that mean he was alone? Were the scientists concentrating all their efforts on him? It didn't seem likely. Their operation was bigger than just the few hallways and labs he'd seen.

Yes, he could get away, return to the US, hunt down his enemies, and kill them. But he wanted _more_. While he was stronger now than ever before, he wasn't up to fighting Rogers or that ******* Winter Soldier. Until he was certain he could defeat them both, Sitwell would stay, and use von Strucker as he'd been used.

Flopping down on the sagging mattress, Sitwell put his hands behind his head, and plotted his revenge.

 **Rey's Condo**

Snuggling deeper into the warmth along her right side, Rey sighed, and had nearly gone back to sleep when Cleopatra jumped on the bed, and walked up to the head to paw at her nose. Rey waved her away, but the cat persisted.

Finally giving in, Rey lifted the covers, and sat up. The cat rubbed against her bare arm, making her aware that she wasn't wearing pajamas. She glanced around the room, and found them on the floor next to other clothes that weren't hers. Picking up the pants, she recognized them as Justin's. Her memory restarted, reminding her that she and Justin had gotten back together. If the aches in various parts of her body were any indication, they'd spent the last-she looked at the clock-four hours having wild, untamed sex. Prior to that, the last she remembered, they were having dinner, and watching a movie. Then came the argument, the flirting, and…

She hastily pulled on her pajamas as she left the bedroom with Cleopatra trotting ahead to the living room. The cat sat on the floor next to Rey's phone, which had fallen on the floor. Rey picked it to check for messages, and found they were all from Chase, plus one text.

 _Call me by midnight, or I'm coming over_.

Rey frantically dialed Chase's phone number, and he answered on the second ring. " _Celeste? Where the hell have you_ _been_ _? Why didn't you answer your phone?_ "

Crossing her fingers against the lie she was about to tell her best friend, Rey injected a note of weariness into her voice. Not difficult, because Justin had worn her out. "Sorry. It's been a long day. What's up?"

" _What's up is you're_ _lying_ _. I can always tell_." He paused, and Rey could hear the wheels spinning. " _Are you alright?_ "

"Why wouldn't I be?" Even Rey could hear the false tone in her voice.

In the background, she heard a car door slam. " _Because you always get that weird squeak at the end of a sentence when you're not telling the truth. You're going to tell me what's going on when I get there_."

Desperate, Rey nearly shouted into the phone. "No! Um, I mean, please don't. I'm fine. Really."

There was a knock at the door. " _I'm here. Open the door before I call the cops and tell them you're being held hostage by aliens_."

Still holding the phone to her ear, Rey opened the front door. "Aliens? Seriously?" She hung up the phone, and Chase did as well. "That's _nuts_ , Chase." Her voice was a little too loud, hoping it would wake Justin so he'd know to stay in the bedroom. Spreading her arms to the side, she shook her head. "Do I _look_ like a hostage to you?"

~~O~~

Chase had to admit Rey had a point. "No." Rey's eyes flickered. Not much, but enough to verify his first instinct. She had company, and didn't want him to know who it was. He inhaled, detecting a specific scent, the kind that clung to the body after sex. Relieved, he leaned close. "You've got a man here, don't you?"

"I-uh, yeah. Sorta."

Even after her admission, Rey's eyes told a different story. One of guilt, though not shame, as if the man were someone he knew. "Why didn't you just _say_ so?"

"Maybe because it's none of your business, Chazzie."

At hearing Justin's voice, Rey relented. She opened the door, and invited him in. The brothers faced each other across the living room, and Rey scooted past into the kitchen mumbling something about making coffee. Chase watched her go, and brought his eyes back to his twin's face as he took a seat on the sofa. "It's good to see you, Justin."

His brother grabbed a chair from the dining room, and straddled the seat. "You too."

"Yeah. We look pretty good for a couple of guys who jumped from the forty-first floor of a high-rise building into the Potomac."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

The shower came on, and that sent the cats into a tizzy. Only Ryder stayed behind on Bucky's side of the bed. Natasha watched the last tail disappear, smiling to herself as she got into her pajamas. Over in the corner by the vanity, Bucky had three bags packed. They weren't due in Sokovia for a couple of days, but he was so excited, he'd packed early so he wouldn't forget anything.

Her husband had agonized over whether to bring them a gift then he couldn't decide what to get them. They were teenagers who had been in foster care for the last four years. What could they possibly give them that they could enjoy on the flight back home? They had no idea what their lives had been like, how they were treated by the families with whom they'd lived. Natasha had asked for their names, and was told in no uncertain terms that the information was confidential. With her connections, she could easily find out, but didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with their children.

Their children… Natasha had to admit that she was as excited as Bucky. She just hid it better. She also had no illusions that Wanda and Pietro would want to call them Mom and Dad, or Mother and Father. Not right away, but maybe someday.

Another thing Bucky brought up was their name. Maximoff was their birth name, and if they wanted to keep it, she and Bucky would support them one hundred percent. It would be the same if they decided to change it. Though, personally, Natasha believed they should stay with Maximoff as a way to honor their birth parents, and it brought her own parents to mind.

She was brought out of her bout of nostalgia when the shower cut off, smiling because Bucky was singing while drying off and getting dressed. He sang with more enthusiasm than talent, but then wasn't that the point? To have fun?

The door opened, and Bucky swooped in, taking her in his arms and dancing around the room.

 _My story is much too sad to be told,  
But practically everything leaves me totally cold  
The exception I know is the case  
When I'm out on a quiet spree,  
Fighting vainly the old ennui,  
And I suddenly turn and see your fabulous face_

 _I get no kick from champagne.  
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all  
So tell me why should it be true  
That I get a kick out of you?_

"James! Stop!"

"But I feel like dancing."

He leaned her back into a dip, making her head spin. "You're getting all wound up, and you need your sleep for that meeting in the morning."

Because going along was easier than stopping him, Natasha played his little game, adding flair to their dance.

"Don't care. I'm going to be a dad again for the first time in more than fifty years. That deserves a celebration."

"If you fall asleep in the meeting, Wiley will _not_ be happy."

Bucky twirled her under his arm three times, leaned her into another dip, and brought her upright. "Still don't care." He led her over to the vanity, picked up the brush, and ran it through her hair. "I had an idea about their gifts." His reflection didn't change. He just kept brushing her hair. "They haven't had much while in foster care, so what about iPods, and tablets? Something to keep them occupied on the ride home, if they don't want to talk."

"I like that idea. From what Novacek said, they weren't physically or emotionally abused, but they weren't given love and affection either. Their foster parents both work, and they had four other children to take care of. The government had little money to give them, not nearly enough to cover all the costs of raising two teenagers, and certainly not enough to send them to university." Bucky put the brush aside, and sat next to Natasha facing the opposite way so they could see each other, his left hand next to her hip so he was leaning close. "He didn't exactly say, but I got the impression that the kids either skipped school a lot, or that they hadn't gone at all for the last year or so."

Natasha smoothed a hand down this long hair. "That's going to change. We'll start them out slow, with just one or two subjects." She nudged him away, and stood. He came up with her, and they moved to opposite sides of the bed, climbed under the covers, and snuggled in the middle. "Labor Day would be perfect to introduce Wanda and Pietro to the family."

"Right. Everyone will be here, including some of the neighbors, and close friends."

"Gracie will want to stay on the catio and play with the cats the entire time."

Bucky turned out the light, and Natasha closed her eyes. "Not if we give her the job of introducing the kids around. Though she'd probably insist on doing it anyway."

"She _is_ a charmer." Natasha turned Bucky's head so she could kiss him. "Now go to sleep. You have a meeting in the morning, and tomorrow night, I have to pack for the trip."

"Mmm. I am _so_ lucky to have you, Tasha. I love you."

"I love you too, _lyubimaya moy_."

 **TBC**

 _I Get a Kick out of You_ is a song by Cole Porter, which was first sung in the 1934 Broadway musical _Anything Goes_ , and then in the 1936 film version.


	70. Chapter 70

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 70**

 **Rey's Condo**

A loud crash in the hallway brought Chase and Justin to their feet. Broken mugs, a plate, and cookies were scattered over the hardwood floor in a puddle of coffee. Rey looked from Chase to Justin and back several times, her eyes wide. "You did _what?_ "

The brothers exchanged sheepish shrugs, and went to help Rey. Their movement knocked her out of the momentary inertia. She waved them away, and got down on her knees. Both knew better than to disobey, but still came to help.

She scowled at Chase when he abruptly stood up, and turned his back. "Oh, sorry!"

"God, Chase! What is _wrong_ with you?"

Shaking his head and grinning, Justin reached over to pull Rey's top closed in the front where it had gaped open, and her left breast was showing. Rolling her eyes, Rey adjusted the front while Justin finished picking up the broken dishes, stacking the pieces on the tray. "Maybe you should change before you give my brother a heart attack."

Rey leveled a glare at both men. "Hmph! It's only fair. You nearly gave _me_ one with that comment about jumping out of a building into the river." She turned her back, and strode down the hall toward the bedroom.

Holding the tray, Justin winced when the bedroom door slammed. He carried the mess into the kitchen, and Chase followed, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed while Justin got out clean cups, and refilled them. Going to the closet in the corner, he took out a mop and bucket, and shoved them at Chase. "Make yourself useful, and mop up that mess."

" _Me?_ _You're_ the one…"

"Face it, little brother. We both had a hand in it. I picked up the crap, _you_ do the mopping."

Chase gave in gracefully. He filled the bucket a quarter of the way with hot water, taking it and the mop out into the hall. "Maybe later you'll explain why you're boinking my best friend, but you don't want the rest of your family and friends to know you're alive."

Justin set the cups on the tray, and placed the box of cookies next to them without bothering with a plate. "It's… complicated." He stepped into the hall, watching as Chase picked up the pieces of ceramic they'd missed. "What if Zeya didn't get all that shit out of my head that HYDRA and that quack Heath put in there, and I hurt someone?"

Moving close and lowering his voice, Chase nodded down the hall. "What about Celeste, er, Rey and Cleopatra? What about _them_?"

Holding his brother's gaze for a moment, Justin went over his reasoning, and could only come to one conclusion. He moved past Chase into the living room, and set the tray on the coffee table. Chase followed, staying close so they could talk without being heard. "I don't know why, but being with Rey these past couple of weeks…"

" _Weeks_?"

"Sh! Keep your voice down," Justin admonished him. "Being with her… It's like she's the one thing in my life right now that makes me feel as if I could be the man I was before all this shit happened. She's-she's like the eye of a hurricane, a bit of calm in the middle of all the chaos that my life has become. When I'm with her, I feel almost normal." He held up his left arm, turning the hand over to look at the back. "Then I see this, and I want to run as far and as fast as I can, lose myself somewhere far away, and never come back. I think, 'They'll be better off without me.' Even headed out of town a couple of times." One shoulder shrugged. "But I always came back."

Justin felt his twin's empathy through their unique bond that had finally come back. He turned away, and Chase's hand touched his bare shoulder, reminding him his t-shirt was on the floor of Rey's bedroom, and he only wore pajama pants. "I-uh, I'm gonna change."

He escaped into the second bedroom, and shut the door. The clothes he'd worn earlier were on the foot of the bed. He put them on, along with socks and shoes, and after a short, yet intense moment of thought, took his bag from the closet, filled it with clothes and personal items, and zipped it shut.

He hooked the strap over his head, raised the blinds to the top, and carefully opened the window. Putting first one leg then the other over the sill, he jumped to the ground. He'd just closed the window when he heard footsteps behind him. Knowing who it was, he exhaled loudly and turned to face his brother.

"So, you're just gonna run away again, huh? Is that it?" The tone in Chase's voice, and expression on his face were those he'd only encountered on a few occasions. Usually just before the two of them got into a knock-down drag-out as only siblings do. "You weaseled your way back into Celeste's life, made love to her, and now you're leaving." Chase settled his feet shoulder width apart, arms hanging loosely at his sides, fingers flexing, his entire attitude one of aggression. " _Not_ gonna happen, big brother. You're staying if I have to beat the _shit_ out of you, and tie you to a chair."

Justin scoffed. "You and what Army, pal? We've been going at it since we shared a womb, and you've yet to win."

Chase cracked his neck on the left then the right. "Yeah, well times change. I went up against HYDRA, and I'm still alive."

The bag hit the ground, and Justin mirrored his brother's stance. "But I'm not HYDRA. Not anymore."

One side of Chase's mouth turned up in a smug grin. "And _I'm_ not the same little brother you left behind more than two years ago. I've learned a few things since you've been gone." He made a "come at me" motion with both hands.

~~O~~

Sitting on the side of the bed, Rey had just pulled on a pair of warm socks when the entire condo shook from the slamming of the front door. Cleopatra jumped, and dived under the bed. When the sound wasn't repeated, the cat peeked out, eking out a tiny, "Reow."

Rey zipped the front of her Eddie Bauer half-zip top as she hurried down the hall. On a hunch, she opened Justin's door, and found all his stuff gone. While it wasn't unexpected that he'd leave at some point, she hadn't thought it would happen tonight. And if he didn't want to stay, there was nothing she could or would do to stop him. But the least he could've done was say good-bye.

Rey pulled the door shut, and opened it again at hearing loud voices and fighting. She looked out the window, rolling her eyes at the scene.

Rushing through the condo, and out the front door, she ran around to the side to see Chase and Justin rolling around in the grass like a couple of kids. She danced out of the way when they almost knocked her over then reached down to slap both on the back of the head. "Stop it! Both of you!"

The brothers kept fighting. To stop them, she reached out to grab the nearest ear, and pinched hard. Justin yelped at the unexpected attack, released Chase and got to his knees. Now that they weren't fighting, Rey grabbed Chase's ear too.

"Hey! What the _hell_?"

"You're acting like _children_." Rey forced them to stand, glaring at one then the other, and let go, nodding toward the front of the condo. "Inside. Now!"

The brothers looked at each other, and away. Justin picked up his bag, they walked around to the front, and the door closed behind them without slamming.

Rey's neighbor pushed the window open, and stuck her head out. "What's going on? I was about to call security."

"Just a little disagreement between brothers, Estelle," she reassured her. "Go back to bed. It won't happen again."

Estelle huffed. "Try to keep it down to a dull roar, 'kay? Some of us like to sleep at night." She slammed the window down, locked it and closed the blinds.

Shaking her head, Rey walked around to the front, and let herself in. Justin and Chase were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa not looking at each other. Chase had his arms crossed, and was slumped down on his spine, sulking, while Justin rested his elbow on the arm of the sofa, his head leaning again the metal fist, also sulking.

She picked up the tray, and carried it to the kitchen. While the coffee was warming in the microwave, she went to change her wet socks.

When she got back to the kitchen, Cleopatra was sitting on the bar counter, glaring at both men. Just this once, Rey didn't reprimand the cat. Instead of using the tray, she set full cups on the counter, and went around to hand one to each of her guests. One had been invited, and the other had just shown up, but still, they were welcomed. Their behavior, however, was not. "Who wants to go first?"

At the same time, the brothers pointed at each other, "He does."

Turning around the chair Justin had been sitting in Rey sat down, took a sip of coffee, and crossed her knees. "Justin."

"I was leaving because I didn't want you and Cleo to be in danger."

She nodded. "Fair enough. Though moot at this point, considering what happened." Knowing he was next, Chase looked off into the distance while drinking his coffee. "And Chase. Why were you so anxious to talk to me you had to show up at my home in the middle of the night?"

"You're my best friend."

"And?" Man, it was like pulling teeth to get them to talk.

He looked down at his cup, and finally let their eyes meet, including a lopsided smile. "I met someone."

Taken aback, Rey blinked a few times before responding. "She must be something special, if you came all the way over here just to tell me about her."

His shy smile said more than his words ever could, but Rey was happy to listen. "She is. Her name is Iris."

Tilting her head to the side in thought, Rey commented, "Your new office manager? _That_ Iris?"

"Yeah." They both looked at Justin when he snorted a laugh.

"Still fishing off the company pier, I see." Chase didn't honor that comment with a response. To Rey, Justin said, "She's the third employee he's fallen for. First there was one of his techs, Preeta. Indian, super-hot, and _way_ out of his league, and knew it. After that, he had it bad for the bartender at Tunnel Vision."

Chase held up a finger. "Technically, she was _your_ employee, not mine."

"And now Iris."

Again, Chase huffed. "Like _you_ were any better. After Sean, and before Rey, you had a thing for the bouncer at the club."

With a growl, Justin got to his feet, and took his cup to the kitchen. "I've told you a dozen times, Chase. Troy and I were just friends."

Grinning into his cup, Chase muttered, "Friends with benefits, you mean."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't? Then why did he leave so abruptly when you broke up with him?"

Justin gritted his teeth for a moment. "Not that it's your business what happens between me and my _friends_ … Troy got married, and they moved to California." He held a finger up. "He married the woman he'd been engaged to for three years. Two years ago, they had a daughter and a son on the way. Like I said before, _just friends_."

Finally, Rey had enough. She shot to her feet. "That's _it_. Chase, go _home_. Justin, stay, or go, whatever you want, but I am too tired to listen to you two bicker."

~~O~~

The brothers looked at each other in the classic "we sure screwed up" way, wincing when Rey slammed her bedroom door. Before either could move, she came out again carrying her pillow and dragging her blanket, Cleopatra on her heels. She opened the door to the second bedroom.

Confused, Justin asked, "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping in your room. The sheets need changing on my bed, and _I'm_ not gonna do it." With that parting shot, she closed and locked the door.

Chase looked at his brother, and shook his head. "Dude, you really screwed up if the _cat_ won't even sleep with you."

"You're hilarious. What about Iris? If you're so into her, why are you _here_ instead of with her?"

"Taking it slow. And she works for me. It could get sticky." Justin took his brother's empty cup, set it on the counter, and walked him to the door. After a false start, they hugged. "You staying?"

One shoulder twitched. "For now. The place I was holed up in got knocked down. Now I'm working for the construction company doing the rebuild."

"Think you'll ever want the night club back? It's yours whenever you want it."

"Don't know. Still working it all out." Justin glanced over his shoulder, and lowered his voice. "I need to speak to Natasha."

His brother looked at him with confusion. "Nat, not Gramps?"

"It's complicated, but I guess you could say she has the right connections to help me." He pulled out his phone, and sent Chase a text. "There's my number. I need to see her in person."

"When?"

The phone was put away. "As soon as possible. It's late, so not tonight."

Chase rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it's not the weirdest thing this family has done." He turned away, and came back. "Forgot to tell you. Joi and Steve got married in Vegas."

"That's great. What about Nat and Gramps?"

"Ditto. On the same day in the same chapel. They were each other's witnesses. Joi and Steve are honeymooning at a cabin in Kentucky, I think. Maybe it's West Virginia. Whatever. They'll be home in a day or so." Chase shoved his hands into his pockets. "If that shit _is_ still in your head, Gramps and Steve are the only two who are a match for you physically. Well, and me. Mia could come along too."

Justin opened the front door. "Think about it. Just have Nat contact me." They hugged, and Justin waved as his brother ran down the sidewalk to his car parked at the curb.

Standing in the middle of the living room, he went over the events of the day, and came to the realization that he kept getting caught-first by Joi, and then by Rey-because he didn't really want to run away. He wanted to be with his family, and his friends. He wanted his life back, for none of this shit to have happened to him, or to anyone else.

He also knew that for Natasha to help him, she would need to know the words that activated him as the Winter Soldier. But how could he get them to her without saying them? Would writing them down have the same affect or did he have to hear them spoken aloud? What about if he wrote them in the wrong order then numbered them? It seemed silly, but another alternative would be to write one word down, and wait a couple of hours, and write the next one, and so forth. He wished he'd thought to ask Zeya before she was killed.

There were no hard and fast answers, because no one had ever been in this situation before-that he knew of. The other Winter Soldiers were gone, killed by Zeya, and buried beneath the rubble of the base when it self-destructed. And Gramps' situation had been different.

Justin padded down the hall, stopping at the linen closet to get clean sheets for Rey's bed. He stopped in the bedroom doorway as a thought occurred to him that had to do with the reason the sheets needed changing. Moving quickly, he pulled off the soiled sheets, including the mattress cover, stuffed them into the washer, and returned to put the clean linens on the bed.

In the hall, he debated knocking on the door to speak to Rey. Morning would be soon enough to make his apologies for the disruption of her life, and for anything that might happen in the future.

The bed creaked as Rey rolled over, and Justin went to the door, listening to see if she was still awake. Like that night in the church, his instincts told him to keep watch. Instead of going back to bed, he leaned against the wall, and slid down to the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Even through the door, he could hear Cleopatra padding daintily over the carpet. He looked down, and one black fuzzy paw waved under the door. Turning to the side, Justin played with the cat, saying softly, "At least _you're_ still speaking to me."

~~O~~

Chase's phone lay in the cup holder with Justin's text displayed. Seeing his brother again was more than he could've hoped for. During their childish outburst, he could feel Justin holding back, keeping himself in check so he wouldn't hurt him.

Finding out that Justin had not only been in contact with Rey, but that he'd been staying with her had been a shock. That is until he explained why. Maybe he didn't know it yet, but Justin was in love with Rey, and probably had been for a long time.

Justin wanted to come back home, and that was great. It couldn't happen soon enough for Chase. Not having his twin with him all this time had been a strain. No one understood him like Justin did. Well, Rey did, but only to a point.

The time he spent with Iris tonight gave him a sense of peace, something like what Justin said he felt with Rey. Whenever he felt himself getting agitated, all Iris did was let it roll off her back, and with a few well chosen words, got him back on track.

It was after one in the morning, a little late to call Natasha, or would be if he didn't know that she and Gramps were so excited about their mysterious trip they were taking a couple of days that they were probably still awake. Even if they weren't, it couldn't hurt to leave a message.

Using the on-board computer, Chase called Natasha, and was surprised when she answered right away.

" _Romanoff_."

"It's Chase. Did I wake you?"

He could hear her getting out of bed, walking out into the hall, and closing the bedroom door. " _What's wrong, Chase? You never call this late_."

Now that he had her on the line, Chase wanted to say never mind. "I saw Justin tonight. He's still in town." In the background, he heard Gramps open the bedroom door. Natasha covered the phone to speak to him, and was back.

" _Where is he?_ " Natasha seldom let her emotions run away, but this time, her excitement showed in her voice.

He wanted to keep Rey out of this for now. "Hiding out in an old church. He wants to come home, but he'd afraid the shit HYDRA put in his head is still there. Wants your help to make sure he's safe to be around. What d'you say?"

" _Let me make a few phone calls. I'll text you with time and place_."

Relief flooded through Chase as he stopped at the light. "Thanks, Nat."

" _We're family, Chase. No man left behind, remember?_ "

He'd just pulled into the garage attached to his condo, and shut off the engine when the phone buzzed. It was a text from Natasha. She wanted to meet that day, just after dark, at a hidden cove known as a graveyard for decommissioned ships about an hour's drive from Rey's.

It brought up another question Chase hadn't thought to ask: would Justin want to ride with him, or meet them there? He sent the information to Justin's burner cell, and received an immediate reply.

 _Ride?_

Chase couldn't answer fast enough. _Absolutely! We should leave at least ninety minutes ahead of time in case of traffic._

 _I'll be ready_.

At this moment, Chase didn't care if he got any sleep at all. His twin was coming home, and he would finally feel like a whole person again.

 **Rey's Condo**

Justin and Cleopatra were so intent on their game that neither one heard Rey get out of bed until she pushed the cat out of the way, and opened the door. "Will you _stop_. I can feel you moping through the door."

Justin got to his feet, taking the opportunity presented to him. "I was going to do this in the morning, but since you're awake…" He looked down at her sock covered feet, the toes curling into the carpet. "I'm sorry."

Rey exhaled in annoyance, one hand brushing the hair off her forehead. "For the fight with Chase?"

"That too. The bigger apology is for… we didn't use protection when we made love. If you get pregnant, and it's not something you want, I'll stand by any decision you make."

She pressed her lips together, and covered them with her hand. Justin had thought she'd be angry, or at the least berate them both for not thinking of using protection, but she was laughing, or trying not to. Shaking her head, she let out a chuckle. "No apology is necessary. I was a willing and enthusiastic partner, as I recall. And for the record, I've been using birth control for a medical condition. Lots of women do." She touched his cheek so tenderly, his stomach fluttered. "I've been tested, and I'm assuming you have too, so no worries there."

"Why are you so good to me, after everything I've done?"

"Because you're worth it, Jay."

Those few words meant so much to Justin that he swept Rey into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her head rest on his shoulder, and in the space of a heartbeat, he fell just a little in love with her.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

Natasha stood in the doorway holding the phone. James stopped his pacing to ask, "Well?"

A smile spread across her face, and though she felt beyond it, her eyes stung with unshed tears. "It's on. He's coming home."

 **TBC**


	71. Chapter 71

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 71**

 **Novi Grad**

 **Sokovia**

 **Late Afternoon**

Pacing the length of the church from the altar to the door, Pietro hit his palm with the opposite fist, alternating one then the other. On his fourth lap, the front door opened, and Wanda breezed in, long hair flying. The expression on her face did not give him a warm and fuzzy feeling. "What did he say?"

"He didn't _say_ anything." She crossed her arms, and in those hazel eyes, he could see the wheels turning. "When I returned to the office, he was alone. I put it in his mind that we had an appointment to video chat with Barnes and Romanoff. However, when he attempted contact, they did not respond."

Pietro took Wanda's hand and forced her to sit next to him in the last pew. "Relax. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

She shook her head, and tried to stand, but he kept her in place. "No. Something is wrong. I can feel it. We have sent them four emails in the last day which they have not answered. Always before, they have responded within thirty minutes." Her hand squeezed tighter, and she turned wide, sad eyes on him. "What if they have changed their minds? They were our best chance of getting to America quickly. We were supposed to be gone from this hellhole by the end of this week."

Pulling his sister close, he kissed her temple. "Do not worry about it. Not yet. In the morning, we will go to the agency, and find out what is going on. Perhaps we can talk them into a video chat." He nudged her away, stood, and held out his hand. "Come. We'll go to the Big Burger for dinner."

"I'm not hungry. You go."

"We go together. And as your older brother, my word is law."

Wanda scoffed, and finally smiled. "Okay. But only because I know how cranky you get when you're hungry."

"But I'm _always_ hungry."

"Exactly!"

 **Ship Salvage Yard**

 **Somewhere in Virginia**

The quinjet came in for a landing on the deck of the helicarrier. It was docked in a cove filled with rusted out hulks of ships in all sizes and shapes. The trees grew tall, and even this late in the year, most still retained their leaves, sheltering the majority of ships from being seen from above.

Clint removed his harness, and wandered into the back. Justin and Natasha were speaking softly in Russian, and he blatantly listened in. Mostly, she was offering reassurance that everything would turn out the way they hoped. On the other hand, Justin remained skeptical.

Chase and Bucky looked on, the younger man tapping his heel on the deck. Clint opened the rear hatch, and led the way out, with Justin bringing up the rear. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, uncertain if he wanted to continue.

To prove that none of them were afraid of him, Clint stuck his thumbs in his belt, and shifted his weight onto one foot. "Let's go, kid. We got a schedule to keep."

Justin nodded, and followed the others to the hatch that would take them below decks. Clint stayed with Justin, keeping up a running monologue on the helicarrier, specs, crew accommodations, how the mess hall never had his favorite flavor of ice cream, and anything else that came to mind.

As they crossed one particular catwalk, Clint looked over his shoulder at Natasha, and raised an eyebrow. This was where she'd performed her special brand of cognitive recalibration. Once the fighting was over, he'd turned himself in to Fury and Hill, ready to take whatever punishment they, and the council, deemed appropriate.

They reached the holding cell similar to the one in which Loki, and then Bucky, had been kept. Loki had gotten out by trickery, and Bucky by brute strength. Now it was Justin's turn.

~~O~~

Since they'd come on board the helicarrier, Natasha noticed that Justin kept close to Clint, and she knew why. They'd been semi-close while the work was being done on the house. And now, Clint treated Justin as if he were an ordinary Joe you'd meet on the street, and not a mindless assassin. He didn't walk on eggshells around him.

Right now, Clint was going over how the cell worked, and showing him the control panel. Justin paid attention, nodding in all the appropriate places.

Natasha saw when Clint got to the part about ejecting the cell, if it became necessary. Her friend made the sound of an explosion while waving his arms dramatically. Whether he'd done it just to make his student laugh or it was unintended, the effect on Justin was priceless. He laughed and shook his head.

She leaned close to James, speaking softly. "Seeing Justin smile is a beautiful thing, James."

"Yes, it is." James paused, and she knew one of his infamous zingers was coming. "You completely forget that he could kill you at any moment."

Clint whistled to get everyone's attention. "Places to go, people to annoy. Let's get started. Nat?"

"Show time," Natasha whispered to James. She joined Clint by the console, and Justin passed her a scrap of paper. She opened it, and read what was written, going over the words in her mind wondering if her tone or facial expression would have any effect. Using her experiences at the 2R facility as a guide, she planned her strategy.

Chase stood near the cell door, and when Justin reached his side, the brothers fist-bumped. Clint opened the door, Justin stepped inside, and it closed again. There was no going back.

" _I'm ready when you are, Nat_."

To make this as authentic as possible, she waved the others back, and strode up to the cell, letting her eyes, and manner radiate aggression, and superiority. She paced as far as she could, turned, and came back, her boots thumping on the grating, making them ring. "You are the Asset."

"No…" The simple, yet powerful word was spoken barely above a whisper, as if he'd said it just that way in the past, and had been ignored.

Switching to Russian, she glared at Justin while continuing to pace. " _Da!_ You are the Asset, and will obey only me! Say it!" Justin's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Natasha stalked to the clear walls of the cell, and hit the barrier with the bottom of her fist. "Say it!" Justin stumbled back a step, his eyes bouncing from her to the others. "Do not look at them! _I_ am in control. You will obey only _me_."

Uncertain what she was doing, Justin shook his head, putting more power behind the word this time. "No."

And though it hurt her to do this to Justin, the circumstances had to be as authentic as they could make them. She kept her eyes on him without blinking, staring him down, asserting her dominance. And when he finally looked away, she moved back a step, and read from the paper while pacing back and forth. " _Udary…_ _Syem…_ _Potoki… Dyshat'… Derevnya… Solnechno…_ "to increase the tension, she stopped in front of Justin, catching and holding his eyes with hers once more. "… _Ekho… Dvoynik…_ _Pyat…_ " Again, she paused, prolonging the agony, practically spitting the word at him, "… _Dusha_."

~~O~~

Justin stood there with his head hanging down, breathing hard. And though she tasted bile in the back of her throat, Natasha kept to the script. " _Soldat?_ " She waited for the proper response, _ready to comply_ , and when it didn't come, she raised her voice. "Asset!"

Natasha stumbled back several steps when Justin punched the clear barrier, shouting, "No! I am _not_ the Asset. My _name_ is Justin Lockwood. I will _never_ be the Asset again!"

Cheers erupted behind Natasha, and she smiled in relief. "Welcome back, Justin." She nodded, and Clint opened the door.

Justin looked down at himself then at the open door. "God! It-it worked." He raised both fists in the air. "Yes! It's Lockwood and Romanoff for the win!"

~~O~~

Thankful beyond words that Zeya's plan had actually worked, Justin rushed out of the cell, and grabbed Natasha's hand. Spinning her into his arms, he leaned her back into a dip, and kissed her on the lips. She gasped in surprise as he set her upright, and sent her back to Gramps, keeping his grin just short of a smirk. " _Boom_ , baby! I'm back!"

Gramps' jaw-dropping WTF expression matched Chase and Clint's. Natasha shook her head and chuckled.

Justin shifted his weight to one foot, the hip on that side sticking out. "Wanted to do that since the day we met. Now I have." He waved his hands in the air. "Yay me."

Clint, Natasha and Gramps gathered in a close circle to talk. Chase sidled up to Justin, keeping his voice low. "Was it everything you thought it'd be?"

He caught Natasha's eye and winked. "And more, little brother." He clapped Chase on the shoulder. "Let's go home."

~~O~~

Once the quinjet was in the air, Natasha activated her phone to check for messages, and was surprised to see four emails from Wanda and Pietro, and another from Novacek making an inquiry on behalf of the kids. She nudged Bucky, and showed him the case worker's request for a video chat. "We'll do it when we get home, reassure the kids that we haven't changed our minds."

Bucky put his arm around her shoulders. "We've been so caught up in Justin's problem I didn't think to check email."

"Neither did I. On the way home, we'll order gifts. Phones and tablets, right?"

"Yes. And a game system for home."

Natasha poked him in the ribs. "Let's not spoil them right out of the box, James."

He kissed her temple. "You're right. We'll wait a week or so, and _then_ spoil them." The brothers were sitting together talking quietly. "Carolyn and Martin. What do you think they'll say when they find out Justin's alive?"

"They'll be happy, of course. And they'll want to know where he's been all this time."

Bucky winced. "Right."

The sound of the engines changed, and Clint called out. " _Everyone strap in. We're coming in for a landing._ "

The brothers joined Natasha and Bucky, strapping into the jump seats. Justin took hold of Natasha's hand. "Thanks for everything, Nat. It's because of you I'm coming home."

"It wasn't me, _lyubimaya_. If Zeya hadn't laid the groundwork, you would still be in that cell until we found out a way to deprogram you. Your programming was different than James'. It might have taken weeks, or even months to figure it out."

Chase leaned around Bucky. "All this time, we've thought he was dead. How do we explain his sudden resurrection?"

Natasha tapped the side of her head. "I've been working with a few of my associates, and we've come up with a plan."

Justin and Chase brightened, saying together, "Sweet!"

"Tasha and I have to go out of town for a few days. When we get back, we'll go over the plan."

Chase held up a finger. "About that. Why all the secrecy?"

James held Natasha's hand, and they shared a loving smile. "All will be revealed at the Labor Day party. Think you can hold out till then, Justin?"

There was something in Justin's eyes that Natasha couldn't define. And now that she thought about it, Chase had a similar look. If she didn't know better, she'd think both boys were in love.

"Do my best," he said with a smirk.

Further conversation was cut short when Clint brought the quinjet in for a landing. When the boys had gone, Clint walked Natasha and Bucky to their car. "This secret mission is to pick up your adoptees, right?"

Excited to show them off, Natasha used her phone to show Clint a photo of the twins together. "Their names are Wanda and Pietro. Fraternal twins, age fourteen. We're flying to Sokovia to pick them up tomorrow."

"Teenagers. They're gonna be a handful. Once they're settled in, bring them out to the farm for a few days. Cooper and Lila would love to have cousins to play with."

"We will." James got behind the wheel, and Clint held Natasha's door while she got in the passenger seat. "Sure you don't need a ride?"

Natasha smiled her thanks. "It's all been arranged. Talk to you in a few days."

Clint closed her door, waving as they drove off.

~~O~~

On the ride back to Rey's, Chase kept glancing over at his twin. He was back, and wouldn't be leaving again. Now all he had to do was keep it a secret for the next nine days so they could surprise the rest of the family on Labor Day.

"Quit staring, Chazzie," Justin muttered from the passenger seat.

"Sorry. I'm just glad to have you back."

Justin shifted in his seat, not liking the seatbelt. "Glad to be back, _really_ back this time."

The light changed, and Chase came to a smooth stop. "What're your plans for tonight?"

"Didn't make any, just in case it didn't work. Why?"

Chase could tell he was thinking about Rey. He lifted the metal arm. "How would you like to use this to help me move some furniture?"

His brother snorted, and shook his head. "Is that your idea of fun these days? Moving furniture?"

"Not doing it for _fun_ , Just. Doing it for Iris. She's in a wheelchair, and I need to rearrange the office so it's easy for her to get in and out. We've already had ramps installed."

"Oh! If we're doing it for your _girlfriend_ , then I'm in."

Chase opened his mouth to refute his brother's claim that there was more between him and Iris than work and a couple of sweet kisses, and decided not to bother. He signaled, and made a left turn at the next light. "Goober."

"Troglodyte."

Man, it was good to have his brother back!

 **Novi Grad**

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

Now that he knew what the treatments were doing for him, Sitwell stopped fighting the guards when they came to take him to the lab. In the past, the doctors had him lie on a padded table while they did tests, and worked out the next round of injections. That meant he wasn't prepared when they hooked him up to an IV. "What is it?"

"Just a saline solution to keep you hydrated. Nothing to worry about."

What he didn't see was that while he was talking to the doctor, one of the man's assistants injected a strong sedative into the IV's port. Soon, he became drowsy, unable to keep his eyes open. The doctor motioned to someone out of his sight, directing them to strap him to the table.

Sitwell tried to fight them off, but the sedative had done its work, his struggles becoming weaker and weaker until his consciousness winked out like someone had flipped a switch.

When he came to, Sitwell was back in his cell, unable to remember anything that had happened after the guards had come. Every muscle in his body ached, and his head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. He sat up, the movement making his stomach heave, and he just managed to get his head over the toilet.

Afterward, he rinsed his mouth, drank a few mouthfuls of water, and stumbled back to his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, Sitwell was bothered by the feeling that he was forgetting something important. Sure that it would come to him later, he covered himself, rolled onto his side so he was facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

 **Early Evening**

 **The Old Church**

Their stomachs full from dinner, Wanda and Pietro returned to their hideout. Instead of getting ready for bed, Wanda sat in the last pew, thinking. While on the video chat with Romanoff and Barnes, she'd gotten the feeling that their minds weren't on the conversation. Well, his wasn't. Romanoff had given them her full attention, reassuring them that they would see them the next day.

Her hair was blown into her face, and Pietro was sitting beside her, grinning. "What did you think of them, _sestrenka_?"

"I'm reserving judgment until we meet in person."

Pietro huffed, and crossed his arms. "Well, _I_ like them. He seems like fun. She's more serious. Plus there are others our age in the family, so we will have someone to spend time with."

"Something is wrong. Barnes appeared distracted."

Her brother poked her with an elbow. "You need to stop calling them Barnes and Romanoff. They're going to be our foster parents."

Wanda huffed loudly. "I am _not_ calling them Mother and Father."

"They don't expect us to." Pietro swung his feet onto the pew, and lay his head in her lap. "Their names are Natasha and James. I'm sure that will be fine."

Annoyed with his prattling, Wanda pushed him onto the floor. "You are sure of so much, leaving _me_ to be the skeptic."

He turned to sit with his knees up. " _Why_ are you not more excited? In two days, we will be in America, and away from all of this."

Wanda wished she could make her brother understand why she felt as she did. As far back as she could remember they were able to read each other's moods. But since they'd begun this phase of their plan, he seemed to have forgotten that their main objective in going to America was to exact revenge for the deaths of their parents, after which they would move on. And he was acting as if they really were going to be part of the family.

The motives of James and Natasha seemed genuine, but the cynic in her said to be wary. She stood and stepped around Pietro. "I'm going to bed. You should get a good night's rest as well."

She shivered as she changed into warm clothing for the night, and despite her misgivings, Wanda chuckled when Pietro called out to her from where he slept.

" _Do you think we can convince them to take us to Disney World? I would like to have my picture taken with Mickey Mouse_."

Letting humor enter her voice, Wanda responded, "Go to sleep!" shaking her head when Pietro made loud snoring noises.

 **Tunnel Vision**

 **The Next Morning**

Iris rolled into the office at exactly eleven with Dakota at her side, wearing his service dog harness, and looking around as if he were on a sightseeing tour of the city. At this time of day, there were few patrons who gave her and Dakota the eye, while the employees ignored the dog, and her.

It galled her to be stuck in the chair. She brought the walker so she could get some exercise. Even walking across the hall to the bathroom or the storeroom was better than sitting all day, even after a morning of intense physical therapy.

Her goal was to be able to walk from the car to the office with only a cane and Dakota's assistance within the next year. It had taken her two years to get to this point. Two years of never missing PT or going to the gym, and being almost obsessive about doing her exercises at home.

Getting back on her feet was also the motivation for not getting one of those electric wheelchairs. Using her arms kept her strong, just in case this was as good as it got.

She unlocked the door to the office, and turned the knob so Dakota could push it open. As she wheeled over the threshold, the room came into view. Her mouth dropped open at the changes that had been made.

Between leaving the night before, and now, Chase had completely rearranged the office to accommodate two desks instead of one. He'd placed the one on the right to make it easy for her to get the wheelchair in and out without a problem. There was also a new desk chair that looked as if it would be comfortable when her back and legs bothered her.

As Iris wheeled around behind the desk, she found that a mini-fridge had been added next to the water cooler. It was at the perfect height for her to reach so she wouldn't have to bend or stand, if she didn't feel up to it. Shaking her head, Iris wondered how such a wonderful man could still be single. She made a mental note to ask him some day when they knew each other better.

While the computer booted up-another new addition, she started a pot of coffee. She opened her bag, and took out a thermal cup guaranteed to keep drinks hot for several hours. When the coffee was done, she filled the cup, put the lid on, and set it on the desk, then transferred to the desk chair. She folded the wheelchair, and pushed it into an out-of-the-way corner.

Her phone beeped, and Iris read the text with a smile.

* _Have lunch with me?_ *

** _Can't. Too much to do today_.**

* _Tyrant! So, I'll bring lunch, and we can eat while we work. What tickles your fancy?_ *

Laughing, Iris tapped out, ** _THAT is a loaded question_. :-P Anything will be fine.**

* _Haggis it is then. Or would you prefer menudo?_ *

Gagging at his joke, Iris responded, ** _Yuck! Bring either of those and you will be banished!_ **

* _Uncle! Mexican or Italian?_ *

**Either/or. See you soon.**

*Count on it. Bringing a surprise with me.*

Iris didn't get a chance to respond to Chase's latest cryptic message because Alex knocked on the door, and came in. "Someone's here to apply for the bouncer's position. Want I should tell him to come back when Chase is here?"

"That's not necessary. Send him in."

Alex motioned to someone out of sight, and when the man stepped into the room, Iris' stomach dropped to her knees. Her good mood vanished, as did her smile of welcome. "What are you doing here, Oscar? Or did you forget about the restraining order?"

 **TBC**

 _Udary_ = Pounding

 _Syem_ = Seven

 _Potoki_ = Threads

 _Dyshat'_ = Breathe

 _Derevnya_ = Village

 _Solnechno_ = Sunny

 _Ekho_ = Echo

 _Dvoynik_ = Doppelganger

 _Pyat_ = Five

 _Dusha_ = Soul


	72. Chapter 72

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 72**

 **Tunnel Vision**

"What's shakin', Alex?" Chase called out as he breezed into the night club. From the back of the club, he could hear loud voices. Not unusual for this time of day with vendors coming and going, all vying for premium parking in the rear.

Uncharacteristically, Alex scowled, and exhaled with annoyance, pointing his chin at the hallway that led to the offices and store rooms. "Iris is interviewing someone for the bouncer's position."

"Then why do you look like you've been chewing on tin foil?"

The manager's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out to look at the caller ID. "You'll see. Gotta get this." He moved away to take the call.

Confused by Alex's sour mood, Chase continued back to the office. As he got closer, he could distinguish Iris' voice mixed with that of a man with a South American accent. Under the shouting, he heard the unmistakable rumble of a dog growling. He went inside, ready for a fight.

"… _How_ can you say that? I was there for you after the accident."

Iris' eyes were dark with anger, her hands clenched together on the desk. "For _two_ _months_. Then it was 'Oh, you're never going to walk or swim or dive or ride a bike or be able to do anything of the things we used to love to do together? So long, _chica_.' And you didn't let the door hit you in the _culata_ on the way out. At first, I thought all you needed was some time, but the divorce papers from your attorney two weeks later put an end to any future we might have had."

The man took a step back when a black and white dog came from behind the desk, growling a warning. "Dakota! Sit!" The dog sat, but the growling didn't stop. Iris glanced at Chase and away, and in those eyes, he saw her wish to show him that she wasn't a damsel in distress, that she could take care of herself.

Placing her hands flat on the desk, she slowly stood, and came around to the side, managing to not show what an effort it was for her to take more than a couple of steps. "I'm sorry you wasted your time, Oscar, but the position has been filled."

Chase could see the effort it took to force her body not to show weakness, and it made him respect her even more.

Oscar gaped at Iris, involuntarily taking a step forward. Dakota growled again, and the man backed off. "You… You're standing, and walking, _mi amada_. That's amazing."

"Yes, it is. And no thanks to _you_ for deserting me when I needed my husband the most. If I was your _amada_ , you wouldn't have left." She straightened her back, and crossed her arms. "Do us all a favor, and go back to Argentina." Iris picked up a stack of papers, shuffling through them to let him know that she was done with the conversation. "FYI, that's Iris-speak for _get the ****_ _out_."

Oscar fumed silently, his gaze bouncing from Chase to Iris and back, and coming to the wrong conclusion. "I see how it is."

The papers in Iris' hands slapped the desk, causing Oscar to jump. "No, you don't. I'm pretty sure the restraining order made my wishes clear. I don't want to _see_ , or _talk_ to you ever again. I just want to be left _alone_."

It was time for Chase to butt in. He moved around in front of Oscar, hands hanging loosely at his sides. "The lady told you to leave, pal."

While not as tall as Chase, Oscar was muscular, reminding him of bikers in the Tour de France. Oscar looked Chase up and down, making a scoffing sound. "And who are you?"

"I'm the owner of this here establishment." Chase took a step closer, looming over the shorter man. "And when you're in _my place_ , you treat my employees with _respect_." He pointed at the door. "Now Get. _Out_!"

Dakota advanced on Oscar, showing his teeth with the growl, and in less than a heartbeat, the man was gone, the door slamming in his wake. Chase turned to Iris. Her shoulders sagged, and he helped her back to her chair. She sat down, elbows on the desk, and her head resting in her hands.

With the threat to Iris gone, Dakota lay his head on her lap. Chase opened the 'fridge, and passed her a bottle of water. "Sorry it's not alcoholic."

She drank from the bottle while Chase perched on the corner of her desk. "So, that's the ex-husband. He seems nice."

He said it with false sincerity combined with sarcasm, and she laughed.

"He was. Once." Dakota came around the desk and laid his head in her lap. "It started going downhill-no pun intended-when he didn't make the Tour de France team a year or so before my accident. The endorsements he was promised just for participating vanished into thin air. After that, he trained even harder for the next year, to the point that we hardly saw each other.

"I tried to pick up the financial slack, but his pride wouldn't allow him accept that his wife was paying for everything. Alone, I couldn't handle the mortgage on our four-bedroom house in Malibu, the one he insisted we needed though he was adamant that he didn't want children or pets. His car got repossessed, and he blamed me." She stroked the dog's head, took a deep breath, and let it out, putting on a falsely calm smile. "You promised lunch, Chase. I don't see lunch."

Chase's phone beeped to tell him a text had come in. "It's being delivered, along with the surprise." Turning serious, he went to the door. "You can't tell _anyone_ what you're about to see."

~~O~~

Wondering why all the drama, Iris crossed her heart. "Not a soul, though I do reserve the right to post an anonymous review on the restaurant's website."

"Fair enough."

There was a knock on the back door. Chase went to answer it, coming back carrying a paper bag with handles bearing the name of a popular Italian restaurant. The smells coming from the bag made her mouth water, and her stomach growl, reminding her she hadn't eaten since dinner the night before.

What she hadn't prepared for was the man who entered behind Chase, also carrying a bag. He was taller than her boss by a couple of inches, with a more muscular upper body, long hair, and scruff. He also wore a glove on his left hand, but not the right.

They set the bags on her desk, and stood side by side so that she could now see that they were nearly identical, with subtle differences that made them easy to tell apart.

"Justin, I'd like you meet my new second-in-command, Iris Castillo. Iris, this is Justin Lockwood." Chase put a hand on the stranger's shoulder, gazing at him with affection. "My twin brother."

 **Adoption Agency**

 **Novi Grad, Sokovia**

Novacek tapped the keys on his computer like he'd never used one before, annoying Bucky to the point he wanted to slap the guy. A heartbeat before he would've reached over the desk, Natasha grabbed his hand and dug her nails into his palm. It was a signal they'd agreed on if she thought he was about to go off on someone. He looked at her; she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

He leaned back, and let his wife take the lead. "How much longer, Mr. Novacek?"

The grey-haired man waved a hand. "Nearly done." He hit the enter key harder than necessary, and the printer on the table next to his desk clicked and whirred, spitting out several sheets of paper.

Holding them in both hands, he stacked them neatly, and slid them across the desk. "I just need you both to sign in all the places marked in red."

Natasha signed her name as Natasha Romanoff-Barnes, and passed him the pen. Bucky signed his name so fast, only the first letters of his names were legible. He dropped the pen, and pushed the pages back across the desk. "Done. Now where are our kids?"

The older man stood, and led them to a room filled with comfortable furniture, and windows with blinds that had been closed. "Please, have a seat while I go get them. Would you care for something to drink?"

Again, Natasha intervened before he could make an angry retort. "Thank you, but we're anxious to see the children. Afterwards, we'll take them out to eat, if they're hungry."

"As you wish." Novacek left again, and retuned in less than a minute. He ushered two teenagers into the room. "Natasha and James Barnes, this is Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Children, these are your new parents."

Novacek had been doing this a while because he backed out of the room, and closed the door, leaving them alone. The twins looked at each other, and Pietro stepped forward. From behind his back, he brought a bouquet of partially wilted wildflowers, and handed them to Natasha. "These are for you."

Flashing a shy smile, Wanda moved next to her brother. "They came from the fields surrounding the city."

Natasha stood to take the flowers, and held them to her nose. "They're beautiful, Pietro. Thank you."

Bucky stood as well, and a moment later, Pietro was hugging him, while Wanda hugged Natasha. They let go, and switched, Pietro saying, "Thank you for taking us away from this place."

~~O~~

Natasha urged Pietro back, and his arms dropped, as did his gaze, as if he were embarrassed by his show of emotion. While they are hugging, she had contact with his body, and despite what they'd been told, that the twins weren't getting enough to eat at the foster home, the boy felt muscular, and strong. But she didn't let anything of her feelings show in her face or voice.

"Our flight home is due to leave this evening. We'd like to get to know you. Are you hungry?"

Again, Wanda looked down, adding a nod and a small shrug on the end. "We haven't eaten yet today."

Holding the flowers in one hand, Natasha held out the other, and Wanda took it. "Come. Let's take a walk and decide where to go. James?"

"Sounds like a plan, Tasha." He opened the door, and gestured for the women and Pietro to go ahead. "After, we can take a walking tour of the city. It'll take about twenty minutes to get to the airport. We'll be happy to help you pack."

Outside, Pietro shoved his hands in his pockets walking on Natasha's other side. "Thank you, but it's not necessary. Everything is ready to go."

Careful not to damage the flowers, Natasha hooked her hand around Pietro's elbow. And when she looked over at Bucky, Wanda had taken hold of his hand, giving him a disarming smile. Her husband was immediately smitten with the girl. Though they took great pains to appear artless and unsophisticated, Natasha sensed they were much more. Streetwise was one way of putting it, telling her that they'd been on their own far longer than they were told.

As they walked, Wanda and Pietro pointed out places of interest, of which there were few. Maria Hill had described Sokovia as nowhere special, on the way to everywhere special. And she wasn't wrong. The sheer number of people living in poor conditions outraged her, and she knew Bucky would feel the same. She put her subconscious to work on a way to help out. Suddenly, Wanda gripped her arm and pointed to one of the few decent restaurants in the city.

"There! Could we go there?"

Bucky lifted their linked hands, holding Wanda's between both of his. "Looks interesting. Tasha?"

"Why not? I'm the adventurous type."

Though the twins were subtle about their wordless communication, Natasha still caught the smug look that passed between them.

The hostess seated them toward the back of the dining room, away from the door. She handed out menus with a smile. "Arturo will be your waiter today. What would you care to drink?"

Together, Wanda and Pietro said, "Wine!" to which Bucky firmly replied, "No." At their crestfallen expressions, he explained, "I know there's no legal drinking age here, but in the US, you have to be twenty-one to drink legally, so get used to it."

The twins stared at Bucky with wide eyes. The new family had been together for over an hour, and that was the first time Natasha or Bucky had put their foot down about anything, though the kids must've known it would happen sooner or later. They also didn't seem to be offended or angry. Instead, Natasha got the sense that they were secretly pleased.

Arturo brought water and a basket of biscuits with butter, honey, and jams, placing them in the center of the table. "Have you decided?"

The kids seemed hesitant, until Bucky told them, "Anything you want, as much as you want."

Wanda ordered a salad, and Cesky Gulas, a goulash made with paprika, onions, and beef, and Natasha did the same, but with Pörkölt, a similar dish with less gravy. Pietro, on the other hand, must've been starving. He asked for two full entrées, plus a salad. Not to be outdone, Bucky did the same. And both ate every bite.

~~O~~

The waiter set a glass of ice cold pilsner in front of each man, and took away their salad bowls. A waitress came to the table with their entrées, and a basket of crusty bread with butter. Hans List used a fork to push the food around before scooping up a portion.

In the midst of chewing, he looked up when the front door opened, and nearly choked. He covered his mouth with a napkin and coughed a few times. While taking a long drink of his beer, List nudged von Strucker, and pointed.

His companion craned his neck, trying to see. Then, his eyes opened wide, and he averted his face so he couldn't be seen. "What is _she_ doing here? Who is the man she is with? And why are the twins with them?"

"All good questions, and we could get the answers by asking, but I do not think it would be wise to draw attention to our presence in Sokovia to one of the Avengers."

"Agreed. There would be too many questions." Von Stucker signaled for the waiter. "We have an emergency. Could we take the food with us?"

The young man nodded, and went through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He returned within moments with cardboard containers, but when he reached for List's plate, he waved him away. "We'll take care of it."

Again, the young man nodded. "Of course." He left the check, and moved on to the next table.

List and von Strucker scooped their food into the containers, closed them, and finished their beers. They dropped cash on the table, and pushed their chairs back. When List would've bolted from the restaurant, von Strucker stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Slowly. She must not see anything amiss, or she _will_ investigate."

They made their way out to the street to their car, and casually drove away. From the passenger seat, List commented, "There must be a way to find out what she and the man are doing in Sokovia."

"I am more concerned with their relationship to the twins as I'd thought they left the area when we expelled them from the program."

"We have the ear of the police captain. Perhaps he could make some inquiries on our behalf." List's companion agreed apparently, as he turned at the next corner and drove to the police station. They parked, and went inside. "We would like to have a word with the police captain."

The officer behind the counter looked them over with little interest. "The captain doesn't see people without an appointment."

Standing tall, hands tucked out of sight behind his back, von Strucker glared at the officer. "I am Dr. von Strucker, and this is Dr. List. Captain Novacek will _not_ be happy that you've allowed two of his dearest friends to be kept waiting. Call him at once!"

 **The Lockwood-Rogers Home**

 **Washington D.C.**

Standing in the kitchen, Joi and Steve watched their new companions eat as if they hadn't had a meal in days, scattering chunks of dried food all over the floor.

"How did this happen, Steve?" Joi's voice was filled with bewilderment.

Steve put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "It just did. Lucky we found them though. What kind of person chains up dogs outside without food or water, and then moves?"

"The same kind of person who dumps dogs and cats on a back road just because they don't want them anymore."

The biggest of the two stood approximately two feet at the shoulder, had pointy ears and was light brown and white with a shaggy coat. The other was smaller, white with a black spot over the left eye and ear. The left ear flopped over in front instead of standing up when she went on alert.

Joi pulled a chair out, sat down, and dropped her chin into her hand, while Steve leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "What should we call them?"

"Hmm… The boy looks like a Bruno to me. And the girl?" She tilted her head to the side. "Trixie?"

"Bruno and Trixie, it is." The dogs finished eating, and came to sit next to Steve and Joi, looking up at them with their tongues hanging out. Bruno nudged Joi's knee, and whined for attention. Trixie danced on her hind legs, pawing the air, begging for Steve's attention. He squatted to rub her ears. "Hey, girl. How do you like your new home?"

The little dog barked, and spun in a circle. Steve picked her up, and went to the living room. Joi followed with Bruno at her side. Spread out on the floor and sofa was a ton of dog supplies, including two plastic tubs for keeping the bags of food. Treats were placed in a high cabinet.

The couple sat on the floor to remove the tags from the dog toys, tossing them on the floor for them to play with. Joi watched Trixie and Bruno playing tug-o-war with a bulky fringed rope. "Steve, I've been thinking."

"Yeah? What about this time?"

She crawled over to him, sitting on her heels. "We should decide where we'd like to live, and start looking for a house. The dogs need room to run, and someday…" He watched her with that crystal blue gaze, and she almost lost her nerve. "Someday, we'll want to start a family." At the panicked look on his face, Joi waved a hand. "Not yet! But in a couple of years, once the show is established, and…"

To her surprise, Steve laughed. "And I have a job?" He tossed aside the toy he was holding, and pulled her onto his lap. "All my back pay was put into a high interest account. Won't need to worry about money for a while. And a house is a great idea. You have someplace in mind?"

"Kinda. That cabin was nice. Something like that, but closer to civilization. Um, without the weapons and direct line access to the director of a super-secret spy organization."

They laughed together as Steve lay back, taking her with him. Lying on his chest, Joi leaned down to kiss him, yelping in disgust when Bruno licked her face. She pushed the dog away, and got to her feet. "Ew. I'm gonna go wash my face, and get a shower."

Steve was on his feet so fast, she took a step back. "Need someone to wash your back?"

Joi normally loved this back and forth flirty banter with her husband, but wasn't in the mood for it tonight. She grabbed his hand, and dragged him into the bedroom, slamming the door to keep the dogs out.

The dogs looked at the door, huffed, and went to lie in their beds.

 **The Café**

 **Novi Grad, Sokovia**

With dinner over, the new family talked quietly over soft drinks, and coffee. Bucky glanced at Natasha, who was watching the twins with a thoughtful expression. Whatever she was thinking, he would hear about later when they were alone. "You're dressed differently than in the photos and the video chat."

Wanda smiled shyly, and dropped her eyes. "We wanted to look good for you, so we bought new clothes."

Bucky held out his hand, and after a slight hesitation, Wanda took the offering. "You don't have to impress us, Wanda. We knew we wanted you to be a part of our family the moment we saw your photos."

Natasha added her voice. "Just remember that how you look and dress won't change how we feel. The love you get from those who truly care for you is not dependent upon how you look, the grades you get in school or how successful you are at your chosen profession. Love is love, and in this family, it's unconditional."

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. His hand gripped his sister's, and they shared a look. "Then you should know… We didn't have any money, so…"

"We stole them. The clothes and shoes." Wanda's eyes glistened with tears. "We ran away from the foster home weeks ago. They didn't care about us. Only the money they received from the government for our upkeep, as they put it. We had to listen to their constant complaints that there was never enough for the things we needed, much less those we wanted."

Her brother picked up the story. "They didn't even tell Mr. Novacek, to keep getting the money." He fiddled nervously with his napkin. "We've been staying in an old church in the center of town."

Natasha waved to get the waiter's attention. She gave him cash for their meal, and told him to keep the change. She pushed back from the table, and stood. Bucky did as well. "Tasha?"

"We're leaving." Without waiting for the others, Natasha hung her purse over her shoulder, and left the café. When Bucky and twins joined her, she started walking.

Bucky hurried to catch up, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure the kids were still with them. They were close enough to hear every word, as she had intended. "What's going on?"

Natasha turned around, and stopped, looking from one teen to the other. "You're going to take us to where you got the clothes and shoes. You're going to pay for them, and apologize."

The twins stuck their chins out stubbornly. "And if we don't?"

Seeing where she was going, Bucky firmly stated, "You're grounded."

"Grounded?" The kids were genuinely confused by the term. "What does this mean?"

"Being grounded," Natasha explained, "is a form of punishment in which privileges, such as going out with friends, special events, watching television, use of the car, cell phone or computer are restricted for a period of time arbitrarily determined by the parents or guardian."

Bucky sensed annoyance from both, Pietro doing the speaking. "We have little. What would you take from us?"

Wanda touched her brother's arm, and he backed down. "We will do as you say, Natasha and James."

This pleased Natasha, and she smiled. "Good. Now lead the way."

~~O~~

The new family walked and talked, each carrying a chocolate shake from the Big Burger. The twins drew them to a stop in front of an old church. Natasha read the sign saying the building had been condemned, and anger boiled inside of her that their children felt this a safer place to live than with their foster parents.

Pietro led the way, giving first Wanda then Natasha a hand in climbing over what was left of a wall. Few of the windows and none of the doors were intact enough to keep out the elements.

"It was damaged during the same bombing that killed our parents," Wanda was saying as they picked their way through the rubble. "The bishop elected not to rebuild."

"I'm sorry," Bucky told them with the utmost sincerity. "Rest assured that you'll never have to come back here again."

The twins smiled, making Natasha's heart feel a little lighter.

 **The Novi Grad Airport**

Having never been on a plane or even to the airport, Wanda and Pietro looked around them with wide eyes, fascinated by everything they saw. Wanda ran to the window, staring at the different types of planes. "Are we going in one of those?"

The glass reflected Natasha's smirk. "Sort of." She held out her hand, and Wanda took it. "This way."

The quartet went through airport security, and Natasha led the way to a plane much smaller than the others. A woman and a man opened the door at the top of a set of stairs.

As they neared the top, the woman smiled. "Welcome aboard."

All Wanda could do was smile and nod as she stepped inside with Pietro right behind her, giving silent support.

They passed through a narrow hallway that opened into a lounge area the likes of which neither twin had ever seen. To the left and right were comfortable seats for the take-off, eight in total, leading to luxurious sofas, tables, and towards the back, what looked like a bar.

The man who'd greeted them stood at the entrance to the hallway. "If you'll take your seats, and buckle your seatbelts, we're about to take off.

Within a few minutes, they were in the air. Wanda could feel Pietro's excitement through their link, fueling hers. The "fasten seatbelts" sign went out, and they wasted no time going to look out the windows. Wanda knelt on the sofa facing the north, watching the lights of the cities pass by below.

Pietro joined her, and they shared delighted smiles. "This is breathtaking!"

Footsteps came from the front of the plane. "Glad you're enjoying yourselves." The twins stared wide-eyed at the man as he joined them. He wore a t-shirt with the name of a band on the front, blue jeans, and sneakers. "Anything you want, just ask." The man moved closer. "I'm Tony Stark, by the way. You might know me as Iron Man."

 **TBC**

 _Mi amada_ \- My beloved


	73. Chapter 73

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 73**

Momentarily paralyzed at seeing the one person in the world they hated more than any other, the twins could only stare. Then, Pietro jumped off the sofa, taking a step toward Tony Stark. Through their link, Wanda felt his intention to kill him, and stopped him by taking his hand.

The three adults were engaged in conversation, and didn't see Wanda catch her brother's eye, and shake her head. Killing Stark now would serve no purpose. Natasha and James would attempt to confine them, and they'd be killed as well. Then where would they be? They needed their new parents to get them into the US, and once the plane landed, they could hardly hide the bodies, or say it was an accident.

Then suddenly, Stark was in front of them, not more than four feet away. All Pietro had to do was reach out and hit him in the throat. At super-speed, no one would see it coming, but he didn't dare. Over the man's shoulder, he saw Natasha and James watching with tentative smiles, waiting to see how they responded.

The man who'd welcomed them aboard came in pushing a cart filled with electronics, and Stark was still talking, but now to them. "Because your parents probably forgot, I brought a few small tokens to welcome you into the family." He picked up four small boxes, handing two to each. "Portable media players. Includes headphones, and chargers for home and car. That's the small boxes. The others are cell phones. "

The kids took them without speaking, because they couldn't. However, the same couldn't be said for Stark, because he just kept talking.

"Didn't know what kind of music you like, so I put some of Romanoff's favorites on the media players. Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, Rachmaninoff, some opera. And if you want to listen to music that _doesn't_ suck, AC/DC, Neil Young, Metallica, Elvis, The Eagles, a little Depeche Mode." Next, he handed them larger boxes that weighed around five pounds. "Laptop tablets with all the bells and whistles. Games, movies, et cetera. You'll have to set up your own email, Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, and Twitter accounts. I've engaged the parental controls, so watch where you surf."

Pietro glanced at Wanda when she pinged him, reminding him of why they wanted to destroy Stark, and he ignored her for now.

Stark wasn't done yet. He pulled an even bigger box from the bottom shelf of the cart. "And to top it off, a home game system complete with individual and multi-player games that can be played on or offline. It included headsets with microphones so you can talk to other players. Top of the line. It'll be like you're really there. You know, wherever _there_ is. I know the history of Sokovia, so none of the games involve shooting or war. It's not all sunshine and roses either."

Pietro set both of his boxes on the sofa next to Wanda's, and took her hand. "You're much too generous."

At his urging, Wanda did the same, managing a small smile. "I agree. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

The billionaire waved a hand dismissively as he went to the bar. "Tony, please." Considering his reputation, Pietro thought he would pour himself something alcoholic, and was surprised when he pulled out five bottles of root beer, twisted the tops off, and passed them out. "Or even Uncle Tony." He dropped into a chair, and put both feet on the low table in front of the sofa, waving a finger to indicate both of them. "Love the accents, by the way."

Natasha and Bucky joined them. "The kids are right, Tony. It's very generous of you to do this."

"Give me a break here, Romanoff. I'm trying to buy their affections. Also, I'm hoping you'll name me as their godfather."

Through their link, Wanda said, _He's telling the truth, Pietro. He very much wants us to like him, and to be our godparent._

 _Could we have misjudged him?_

He felt her shrug. _I have heard that some adults overcompensate for their past misdeeds by giving gifts to those he or she has wronged_.

In response, Pietro gave her a glance as he sat down to open his laptop, and read the manual for setting it up. His sister did the same, for now, ignoring the adults.

~~O~~

Shaking her head, Natasha smiled at Tony. " _Clint_ is going to be their godfather."

Tony drained his bottle and tossed in the recycling bin. "So, we'll be _co_ -godfathers. I just need to know who the godmother is. You know, in case this thing with Pepper doesn't work out." Before Natasha could make up a lie, Tony called out to the twins, "By the way, younglings, those aren't on the market yet. They're being Beta tested as we speak. I pulled a few strings to get you on the team, so if you have any ideas for how to improve the tech, let me know. My email is in your contact list. My personal email. Not the one I give out to people who piss me off."

The twins nodded vigorously, and went back to their computers, conferring in whispers. Bucky could hear them, but Natasha knew he chose not to listen in. They sat on the end of the sofa closest to Tony. Bucky drank from the bottle, and rolled it between his hands. "We're having a party for them on Labor Day, and we'd like you to be there."

Natasha gripped Tony's hand. "It'll also be a combined wedding reception for us, and Steve and Joi. So far, only you and Thor haven't RSVPd."

"Point Break's off to Asgard, last I heard. I'll have to check my calendar." Tony's back pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone, and touched the speaker. "Talk to me, Jarvis."

" _I just wanted to let you know that your schedule is clear for that day, sir._ "

With mock annoyance, Tony told the AI, "You've been eavesdropping again, Jarvis. We talked about this." He cut Jarvis off in the middle of an explanation that would be well thought out and logical, and huffed. "What time should I be there?"

 **Tunnel Vision**

"Twin brother?" Iris looked from one face to the other. She didn't know Chase well enough to know for certain that he wasn't lying. However, she'd always trusted her instincts, and they were telling her he was being truthful. "The news agencies reported that your brother died more than two years ago."

Justin held a hand up, the one with the glove. "You know, I'm right here."

The brothers opened the bags and took out containers of food, placing a salad in front of her, and keeping the other two. Justin handed a container that reeked of garlic, oregano, and cheese to Chase with a question in his eyes, and he took it. "It's a long story…"

"…so we'll give you the short version."

When they were done passing out the food, Justin gave each of them a set of silverware, and set a stack of napkins in the middle while Chase brought two folding chairs from the corner. He sat down, and draped a napkin over his lap, talking while opening his food. "More than two years ago, Justin was approached by a confidential source regarding a deep cover operation."

Justin placed three to-go cups on the table. "I got us all Coke, if that's okay." He removed the paper sleeve from a straw, stuck it in the cup closest to him, and passed it to Iris. Then he did the same for Chase before helping himself. "Long story short, I agreed to help out, and have been undercover ever since."

Chase looked at his brother and grinned. "Well, until a few weeks ago."

"Right. Now the problem is going back to my previous life." Justin cut a meatball in half, and poked it with the fork. "Obviously, my handlers expected me to die on this op." He twitched one shoulder. "I knew that going in." He shoved the meatball in his mouth, and chewed.

"And you still took the assignment?"

Justin swallowed, took a sip of his drink, and nodded as if the answer were obvious.

Using a fork, Chase stabbed several leaves of the salad. "See, Mom and Dad, our sisters, cousins, and so forth still think he's dead." He put the food in his mouth and chewed.

Iris tore off a piece of garlic bread and sopped up some of the marinara sauce from her angel hair pasta with vegetables. Before she could comment, Justin spoke again.

"We decided the best way to do this is at Gramps' annual Labor Day barbeque."

The way they bounced back and forth in the conversation only served to prove that they were indeed twins.

"Mom will _freak_ …"

"…and _Dad_ will because Mom did."

"…It's a good thing that Gramps, Nat, and Steve already know."

"They can help keep everyone else calm."

Chase set his empty salad dish aside, and reached for garlic bread. "Mia can help too."

Justin looked thoughtful, and nodded. "Right. I forgot she…" he made an odd motion with his hand, like a witch casing a spell.

Iris had enough of their finishing each other's sentences. She slapped a hand on the desk, and both men looked at her as if she were nuts. "Please, just _stop_. You're making me dizzy with this…" she waved a fork side to side, "…verbal ping-pong."

They gave her near identical sheepish grins, saying together, "Sorry."

"So, the gist of the story is you, Justin, went so deep undercover that your family had to think you were dead. And just recently, the operation ended. Now you're working out how to tell the family you didn't really die."

Again, they looked at each other, shrugged, and faced her again. "Right."

Using the napkin to wipe her mouth, Iris took a drink, set the cup down, and picked up her fork. "I don't know you that well, Chase…"

Her boss interrupted with a real grin this time. "Wanna come to the party? Labor Day barbecue, wedding reception _and_ the return of the prodigal son. Loads of fun to be had by all."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, stabbed a ravioli, exhaled, and smiled. "I'd love to."

Justin snorted, and grabbed the last of the garlic bread, talking around a mouthful of pasta. "The downside is, if you think _we're_ weird…"

"…wait'll you meet the rest of fam. The closest thing to normal is Gracie."

Pushing the last ravioli around the dish to cover it with sauce, she looked at them from under her lashes. "How about an example." They looked at each other again, and Iris got the sense that they were conversing telepathically. But that wasn't possible, was it? It had to be a twin thing.

Chase took his phone out, scrolling through the photos until he came to the one he wanted then pushed it across the desk. Iris picked it up, and smiled at the photo of a tall man in a suit with his arms around a radiant redhead in a white dress, holding a bouquet. "Your sister and her husband?"

Her boss chuckled, and shook his head. "That's Gramps and Nat. They just got married a couple of weeks ago."

"Grandfather?! But he's…"

Justin took the phone from her, scrolling the photos. "Gramps is ninety-seven, and Nat's what, Chase?"

"Turning thirty this year, I think."

The phone was handed back to Iris, and the other photo had been replaced by that of another couple. "Our sister, Joi, and her husband, Steve."

He was tall, over six feet, and the woman came up to his shoulder. The longer she looked at the photo, the more familiar the man became. And then it hit her. "O-M-G! Your sister is married to Captain freakin' America!"

Both men shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Yeah."

Using her thumb, Iris scrolled the photos, coming back to the previous one. "Wait. I know her too. She's, uh…"

Chase answered, reclaiming the phone. "The Black Widow. Her real name is Natasha Romanoff. She and Steve are members of a group called The Avengers."

"Yeah," agreed Justin. "They helped stop the alien invasion over Manhattan a few months before I left on my op."

Speechless for several moments, Iris watched the brothers start on their second entrées, working it all out in her head. Dakota whined, and put a paw on her lap. The brothers saw, and used one of the empty containers to give the dog part of their second helpings. The dog wagged his tail, and dived in like he'd been starved.

Finally, she was able to ask, "I suppose you've met all the Avengers then."

"All but Thor and Mr. Stark," was Chase's comment. "Not sure if they'll be there."

Justin followed it up with, "Wasn't it Hawkeye who did the work on the house after Gramps and Steve crashed through the living room wall?"

Chase nodded, finished chewing, and swallowed before responding. "And Dr. Banner's Gramps' personal physician 'cause he doesn't trust anyone else."

Something about that last comment bothered Iris, as if he were telling the truth, but only a small part of it. Instead of beating the subject-or the brothers-to death, she concentrated on the fact that the two unassuming men in front of her were related in one way or another to the world's mightiest heroes, and she couldn't tell a soul. At the same time, she wished for a bottle of good white wine to go with her whirling thoughts. All she could think of to say at that moment was, "Well, frak!"

 **Onboard the Jet**

The door opened, and the light went out as Natasha stepped out of the bathroom, startled to hear laughter coming from the lounge. Standing in the doorway, she watched the kids playing a dance game with Bucky and Tony, displayed on a giant plasma screen over the bar. The four of them were laughing and shoving each other good-naturedly, and she couldn't help wishing that she'd had true siblings as a child. Madam B often referred to the girls at the 2R facility as sisters, but it wasn't the same. Laughing, playing, and being silly were all frowned upon. Doing so without permission was a punishable offense that no one committed twice.

Natasha was startled out of the past when Wanda shrieked. Bucky had grabbed her around the waist, and spun her around in a circle. Tony gave them a shove, Bucky put Wanda down, and they went back to the game which Pietro had continued to play.

The game ended just as Natasha took a seat in the first row, smiling at Wanda's triumphant shout.

"I won! I won!" She made her victory even more annoying by doing a little dance while the guys looked on with annoyance.

Pietro flopped on the sofa, crossed his arms, and slumped down in his seat. "You cheated."

Wanda sat next to him with one foot curled under. "How could I have cheated, brother? This is the first I've ever played this game."

Bucky flopped down on Pietro's other side. "Don't be such a sore loser, Pietro. I'm sure there're games out there that you're better at than your sister."

"Hmph!" was the boy's reply. Natasha laughed out loud when Bucky hooked an arm around Pietro's neck, bent him forward, and rubbed his knuckles over his head. Pietro shouted a word that wasn't normally used in polite company, and pushed Bucky away. He nodded a thank you to Tony when he passed out cold drinks.

"Time for another parenting moment," Natasha told them. "Pietro, you should know that your nephew Steve doesn't like that sort of language." She said it with a slight upturn of her lips so he would know that she was serious, yet there was also an element of humor in her reprimand for the inside joke.

The boy rubbed a hand over his head, and turned to Bucky. "What did you do to me?"

Still breathing hard from the exertion, Tony sat down on Wanda's other side. "It's called noogies. It's a playful gesture of affection, depending on how hard you do it."

"We have never heard of this." Pietro looked at Wanda for confirmation, and she shook her head. "Could we see it done?"

Bucky and Natasha exchanged an amused glance, and she nodded. "Might as well. Chase does it to the younger kids all the time."

"He and Justin got into it all the time."

Huffing, Tony moved to the other side of the table where the kids could see. "Okay, Barnes. You 'n me."

With a shrug, Bucky joined him. "It works best if you catch the other person off-guard. Like this…" He hooked his arm around Tony's neck, bent him at the waist, and rubbed his knuckles over the top of his head.

Involuntarily, Tony yelped, and pushed him away, touching the top of his head. "You're lucky I like your wife, Barnes, or there could be trouble."

Bucky made a scoffing noise, his eyes going wide when Wanda came to stand with them. "Could I try?"

Natasha held her breath, letting it out when Bucky smiled, delighted that he could teach his new daughter something.

He leaned down so she could reach. "Put your arm around the neck, back of the hand under the chin. Bend your victim forward so you can see the top of their head." Wanda did so, and Natasha could see she was barely holding on, as if she didn't want to hurt him. "Make a fist with your other hand, and using just the knuckles, rub the top of the head."

She was hesitant, and Tony adjusted how she was holding her hand. "There. Like that. Now go at it, kid."

Wanda flinched when Tony touched her, and Natasha made a note to take the girl aside when they got home. Tony had noticed as well, and backed off to a respectable distance with his hands behind his back. Wanda did as he instructed, and Bucky made a noise in his throat. She released him so fast he stumbled. "It does not hurt?"

"This does not hurt?"

"No. Though it depends on how hard you do it. For younger kids, do it lighter. Older kids and adults, a little harder is okay. And just a few times."

Pietro came to stand with his sister. "Your… I mean _our_ family does this often?"

Going back to his seat, Bucky shrugged as he sat down, crossing one leg over the other. "Mostly it was Chase and Justin, my daughter's twin sons. They did it to each other most of the time, and sometimes the younger kids."

Natasha moved over to sit next to him, holding his hand, and to their surprise, Wanda sat on his other side, touching him on the arm. "We have heard that your grandson, our nephew?" Bucky nodded. "He was killed not too long ago. I am sorry to have brought it up."

Bucky hooked an arm around her neck, and pulled her close to plant a brief kiss on her cheek. "It's okay, sweetheart. No harm done."

Tony made himself scarce by going to the cockpit for the landing to refuel for the flight over the Atlantic.

~~O~~

The plane taxied to a stop, and the engines shut down. Tony pushed out of the pilot's seat with a grunt, and walked into the back. "Well, Barnes family, we have reached the City of Lights. If anyone wants to get out and stretch their legs, get on it. We'll be taking off in about three hours."

Wanda had been dozing with her seat belt on. At the sound of his voice, she was on her feet in an instant, smiling with excitement. "We can… go ashore?"

The adults chuckled, and Natasha put an arm around her shoulders. "Deplane, is the technical term. And yes. How would you and Pietro like to visit one of my favorite Parisian restaurants?"

Any mention of food perked the boy up, and this time was no different. "Do we have also time to see the Eifel Tower and the, uh…"

Tony supplied the name Pietro was fishing for. "L'Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile, which means Triumphal Arch of the Star. It's at the western end of the Champs-Élysées. And _oui_ , we do. The plane can't take off without the pilot."

In anticipation of taking his passengers on a short sightseeing tour, Tony had changed into a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, sport jacket, and slacks, though he kept the sneakers. He tugged the cuffs, and smoothed both sides of his hair.

Wanda and Pietro looked at him with alarm, the boy speaking for them. "We don't have the proper clothing for Paris."

Waving a hand, Tony dismissed their fears. "You both look great." He snapped his fingers, and popped his fist against the opposite palm. "Let's hit the asphalt, kids."

~~O~~

As they left the restaurant, Wanda and Pietro conversed via their link, still wondering at the treatment they were receiving. They were enthusiastically greeted by a man-Natasha called him the _maître d'hôtel_. He'd kissed Natasha, Bucky, and Tony on both cheeks. Then, when she introduced her and her brother as their children, the man had done the same, startling them, chattering on and on, oblivious to the fact that neither of them understood a word.

At the table, Tony took control, ordering their meals and drinks, and the only question he asked before doing so was, "Are either of you allergic to anything?"

Wanda caught Pietro's eye when a woman came around with a bottle of wine. She opened the bottle, and poured each of them a glass, all of them. And this time, Bucky and Natasha didn't object. But still, she and her brother kept Bucky's admonishment in mind regarding what he called the legal drinking age in America.

When the meal was done, the group moved out onto the Champs-Élysées, Tony drawing the twins to his side as he pointed out places of interest, all the while leading them toward the Arc de Triomphe. Wanda felt her brother's fascination with the monument, and it matched her own.

"…it honors those who fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, and has all the names of the French victories and generals inscribed on its surfaces. And underneath lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I."

Pietro showed intense interest in everything Tony said. And despite their promise to each other to break the man's spirit, and then watch him die, they both found themselves liking him.

"Why is the soldier unknown?" Pietro asked. "Was he not wearing identification?"

Tony rubbed the back of his head with one hand, and the other was shoved into his pocket. "He's not really unknown. Well, yes he is, sort of. The eternal flame burns to memorialize the dead who were never identified in both world wars. Every November 11th, on the anniversary of the armistice signed by the Entente Powers and Germany in 1918."

By now, they'd reach the arch, and without thinking about it, Wanda hooked her hand through Tony's arm as she and Pietro stared at everything with fascination.

~~O~~

Because of her earlier reaction when he touched her-totally innocent-Tony never expected Wanda to come near him again, but she did, surprising him by taking his arm as the group walked down the Champs-Élysées. He glanced over his shoulder at Natasha and Bucky, who shrugged back. They hung back, walking arm in arm like a couple on a romantic date, while Tony had been relegated to babysitter.

"Look, Wanda!" The kids ran ahead to get a closer look at the carvings, and the names etched into the walls. Tony followed, careful to give them space, but to also keep them in sight because it looked like their parents were off in their own little world.

Bucky and Natasha were standing in the shadow between two pools of light, and only the right side of Natasha face was illuminated. Their hands were palm to palm, the fingers entwined as Bucky leaned down to whisper in her ear. She laughed, and Tony turned away when they kissed, giving them as much privacy as possible in public. Besides, he didn't need _that_ scene in his head when he went to bed alone tonight, or ever.

"You have beautiful children, _mon amie_."

"They're not…" Tony looked to his left. An older man was standing next to him, watching the twins staring up at the underside of the arc with their mouths open. Tony shoved his hands in his pants pockets, rocking on his toes with a proud half-grin. " _Merci_ , Monsieur."

His companion looked around. "I do not see a mother. It is not easy raising children alone, _n'est-ce-pas?_ "

Tony gave the man a side-eye with a sad grin. "No, it is not." He looked at his watch. " _Excusez-moi_." He wandered over to where the kids were talking animatedly with Natasha and Bucky, telling them all about the Arc, and its history. "Sorry to cut this short, Barnes Family, but we got a plane to catch."

~~O~~

Forty minutes later, they were buckled into their seats, Pietro and Wanda still breathless with excitement. Once in the air, Tony came back from the cockpit. The group turned on a movie, and Bucky caught Wanda covering a yawn only twenty minutes into it. He drew Natasha's attention, and nudged the girl. "Why don't you two take a nap. We're landing in New York to refuel again. If you'd like to take a short sightseeing tour, I'll have your mother clear it with Tony."

That piqued Pietro's interest. In his excitement, he jumped over the table, and plopped down next to Bucky. "If we're going to make another stop on the way, we have a request."

Natasha joined them, taking Pietro's hand while Wanda sat on Bucky's other side. "Let's hear it."

Pietro grinned, and one eyebrow lifted, and Wanda grinned back.

She didn't know what the kids were up to, but she had a bad feeling.

 **TBC**


	74. Chapter 74

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 74**

 **The Next Afternoon**

Natasha poked Tony with an elbow, keeping her smile with difficulty when the billionaire kept fidgeting. "If you ruin this for my children, I will make your life a living _hell_ , Stark."

Finally, Tony smiled, and it looked genuine until he muttered out the side of his mouth, "It already is."

The man in front of them peered into the camera on a tripod, and raised his hand. "Okay, one more for the road. Everyone smile!" He clicked the button, and stood. "Perfect." He tapped a screen, and Bucky's phone received an email. "I've just sent the previews. We'll have the actual photos emailed within forty-eight hours. You can also choose one to be printed and framed, and pick it up before you leave the park."

Mickey and Minnie Mouse waved as the group walked away. Wanda and Pietro were on either side of Bucky, looking at the photos. At the same time, the twins yelled, "That one!"

She moved around to peek over their shoulders, and saw that they'd chosen the last photo to have printed and framed today. And the best thing was that they didn't ask her or Bucky's opinion. They knew what they wanted, and went for it. That could be a good, and a bad thing, depending on the circumstances. One at a time, she went over the small pieces of their children that didn't seem to fit.

Lost in thought, Natasha started when Bucky touched her shoulder. "You okay, babe?"

"Yeah." She gripped his hand, keeping her voice low while watching the twins scrolling through the pictures that had been taken with various Disney characters, talking excitedly in Sokovian. "I know we've had them less than a day, but…"

"You already love them." He hugged her from behind, leaning down to kiss her on the neck. "Me too. And they've charmed the hell out of Stark." Looking around, he frowned. "Where is he, by the way?"

Natasha's eyes scanned the crowd, and found Tony standing near the cotton candy cart, looking at his phone. "I'll be right back."

She slowly approached her friend, waiting for him to notice her. And when he did, Tony quickly powered down the phone, and put it away.

"What's wrong, Tony?" He put on his sunglasses, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Natasha wrapped her fingers around his arm, pulled that hand out of the pocket, and drew him over to a bench. To distract the kids, Bucky took them to a nearby arcade. The fact that she didn't need to ask him to do it made her love him even more. "I thought you, of all people, would enjoy spending the day in The Happiest Place on Earth."

Leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, Tony glanced at her and away. "Yeah, well, times change."

"Did you and Pepper have a fight?" He shook his head, but didn't say another word. Whatever the problem, it was tearing Tony up inside. "You can tell me."

"It's… Uh…" he shook his head, unwilling to confide in her, at least for now.

She took his hand between both of hers, giving him comfort, and sharing her strength. "We'll talk about it later. Let's go get in line for one of the shows."

"Not really feelin' it, Romanoff."

Standing, Natasha kept hold of his hand, and pulled him up next to her. "It wasn't a suggestion, Stark." Without letting go, she dragged Tony over to the arcade. "At least pretend you're having fun, for the sake of the kids."

"Don't worry about your mini-mes. Today will be the most fun they've ever had."

"It already is. Just don't bring them down too soon."

They stopped in the doorway of the arcade to watch Bucky with the kids. Bucky had several balls on the counter in front of him. He picked one up, and held it out to Wanda. The girl looked shy as she blew on the ball before Bucky wound up, and threw it at the milk bottles, knocking them all down.

Shaking his head, the attendant set them up again, and stood back while Bucky did it again, and again, drawing a crowd as he relieved the man of several stuffed animals. Natasha knew he'd only been able to win the game so easily due to his strength and amazing hand-eye coordination.

Pietro saw them, and pointed. Bucky bore the applause from the small crowd with a smile as he led the way to the exit, all three of them carrying stuffed animals.

Wanda had a black and white cat that looked like it had been designed by someone who had a vague idea of what a cat looked like, but in reality, had never seen one. It was cheaply made, yet she hugged it to her as if it were priceless.

Pietro swaggered over to them holding onto the tail of a multi-colored lizard resting on his shoulder.

And Bucky, well he was hugging a bright purple spider with googly eyes holding a banner that said, "I *heart* you this much!"

He held it out, and Natasha took it. Despite the poor craftsmanship, the thing was soft. "Showed 'em how it was done, huh?"

Wanda was bouncing with excitement. " _Da_. He took them to the university. Is that right, James?"

Pursing her lips to keep from laughing, Natasha didn't correct the girl. Tony wasn't nearly as circumspect. He laughed out loud, and she was relieved to hear that it wasn't forced. "School, Mini-Barnes. He took them to _school_. My personal favorite is 'take 'em to church'. Either works."

Instead of being annoyed that Tony corrected her, Wanda seemed grateful. "Thank you. I want to say it correctly."

Tony pointed a finger at her and Pietro, and winked. "I like you. I think the three of us are going to be BFFs."

Just for a second, Wanda and Pietro looked confused, then they both smiled.

The billionaire clapped his hands together. "And in celebration of our new level of friendship, snow cones for everyone." He led the way to a map, found the nearest snow cone shop, and headed out.

With Bucky's arm around her shoulders, he and Natasha brought up the rear. When they reached the shop, Tony took orders, and while they waited, the twins came to stand on either side of them. They leaned close, and Pietro whispered, "What are BFFs?"

In the same tone, Bucky said, "Best friends forever."

"Oh."

Tony headed in their direction with a cardboard tray in one hand, shoving his wallet into a back pocket with the other. Bucky quickly added, "We're okay with the BFFs, but if he asks you to get matching tattoos, say _no_."

 **Onboard the Jet**

Still trying to reclaim his former humor after faking it for the past few hours, Tony turned on the plasma screen, and dropped into the first row of the seats, with Bucky and Natasha across the aisle, and the twins on the sofas. "In keeping with the theme of the day, what Disney movie would you like to watch?"

Wanda shouted, " _Brave_ ," on top of Pietro's " _Monsters University!_ "

Tony looked over at the adults. Natasha shrugged. " _Tangled._ " and Bucky said, " _Pirates of the Caribbean_."

With a sigh, Tony accessed Netflix. " _Toy Story_ it is."

~~O~~

Thirty minutes later, Natasha and Bucky were the only ones still awake. Wanda fell asleep on her side, cuddling the stuffed cat, Pietro was on his back, one leg hanging off the sofa, the stuffed lizard on the floor next to him, and Tony was slumped in his chair, arms crossed, the center armrest pushed out of the way, and both legs in the seat.

Natasha waved a hand in front of Tony's face. "He's out. I'll go tell the co-pilots. They can land the plane on their own, if he doesn't wake up."

"Co-pilots? Plural?"

" _Da_." She disappeared down the hallway, and a moment later, she tapped on the cockpit door. Bucky heard her speaking softly, and soon she was back. "Tony looks so sweet and innocent when he's asleep. Like a big hairy baby."

Chuckling softly, Bucky took her hand, and kissed the back, glancing over at the kids. "We are the two luckiest parents on the planet."

"Yes, we are."

 **The Barnes/Romanoff Home**

 **The Next Morning**

The sunlight streamed through the window, tracing a path across the carpet to the bed where it illuminated a foot sticking out from under the covers. A furry paw reached out to pat the foot. It twitched, and the cat jerked back then tentatively did it again. This time, the foot disappeared under the covers.

Determined to discover what this new thing was that had invaded their home, Priscilla, always the vanguard of the group, jumped on the bed, and walked to the head. She sat down, her tail lazily swishing back and forth as she patted the cheek. The human came awake so fast, Priscilla fell off the bed. She sat on the floor, the tip of her spotted tail thumping on the carpet in annoyance.

The human, a female, sat up, put her feet on the floor, yawned and stretched. "Reow," Priscilla greeted her, and the female did the strangest thing. She pulled her feet back onto the bed, and covered herself up to the neck.

"Who-who are you?"

As humans went, this one was not nearly as intelligent as the others they lived with, but Priscilla was certain, with time and patience, she could be trained. "R-r-reow."

~~O~~

Her experience with cats had been confined to strays around the old church. Wanda didn't quite know what to make of the one sitting in the middle of her bedroom. "How did you get in here? I'm sure I closed the door."

She looked over, and saw the door was open just enough for the cat to slink in. While she watched, another cat, all orange, stuck its head in, and when the coast looked clear, it came to sit next to the other. "Ah. Natasha and James showed us pictures. You are Priscilla and Penelope."

Wanda put her feet over the side, and went down on her knees in front of the cats, holding her hands out so they could smell her. She must've been acceptable because they rubbed their cheeks against her fingers, making her smile. "James referred to you as mine and Pietro's siblings. My name is Wanda. And like you, I am adopted. I hope we'll be good friends."

She took clean clothes from her bag, and carried them down to the bathroom. After she showered and changed, Wanda used one of the hair ties she found in the drawer to tame the long strands, and returned to her room to put on shoes. The cats had followed her to the bathroom, waited outside, and trailed her back to the bedroom. "Where are the others? Rufus, Archie and Ryder?"

As if in answer, Pietro screamed. Wanda grinned to herself. "Found them." She ran into the hall in time to see two of the other three cats come running out of her brother's room. He came to the door rubbing his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I woke up with an animal lying on my chest. It reminded me of the time a rat did it when we first moved into the church." He sniffed the air, and grinned. "Someone is making breakfast."

Not surprised at his sudden change in subject, Wanda told him, "Get dressed, and we'll go together."

Pietro vanished, and reappeared within seconds, fully dressed, and brushing a hand through his silver hair. "It smells good, and I'm _starving_."

Rolling her eyes, Wanda walked ahead of Pietro down the stairs. "Just remember not to use your powers where you will be seen," she cautioned. Her brother snorted, but made no other comment.

As they reached the bottom step, all five cats came running past, made a sharp right, cut through the living room, and disappeared. Pietro pointed. "Let's follow them."

They went into the living room, to the window, and peeked out onto a patio that opened into a screened area filled with carpet covered shelves, and narrow walkways that wound around the walls to the top. On the side facing the yard were three cat-size hammocks. In one corner was a strange multi-level thing, also covered in carpeting, as well as fake leave making it look like a tree.

To the right, a door led to another room that was similar to the one Wanda had slept in. It even had a bed the same size as hers, a small sofa, and dozens of toys strewn all over the floor. This room also had an entrance into the house.

That led to another smaller room with a huge table and eight chairs. Against the walls were several cabinets with glass fronts holding expensive-looking dishes.

The smell of food drew them like a magnet through the only other door into the kitchen. James stood at the stove while Natasha took out plates, silverware, and cloth napkins. She pushed it all to the other side of the counter where four chairs waited to be used.

Wanda and Pietro announced their presence, saying together, "Good morning."

Natasha's smile was so filled with happiness, it flustered Wanda for a moment. The girl smiled at Bucky, and went to help set the table, glaring at Pietro when he just stood there.

Finally, he went to James' side. "Do you need help?"

James passed Pietro a plate of scrambled eggs, and another of small sausages and bacon. "Sure. Set those on the counter for me." A bell rang, and Bucky opened the oven. He slid on a quilted glove, and pulled out a tray of biscuits. "Grab a basket from that cabinet, and put these in it."

"Mmm. They smell good."

Bucky smiled over his shoulder as he dumped a huge pile of fried potatoes into a bowl. "I saw how much you liked them at the restaurant." He pointed at the drawer on the end. "Get out two serving spoons, and put them in the eggs and potatoes. Then get a fork for the sausages, and two butter knives." He pointed to the drawer next to the other one.

While Pietro did that, the stove and oven were turned off. Bucky wiped his hands on a towel, and hung it on the oven handle as he opened the refrigerator to take out butter, several jams, and a pitcher of juice.

Pietro opened doors until he found glasses. He took down four, set one at each place setting, and came around to where Natasha and Wanda had already taken places. When he started to take the seat next to Natasha, Wanda pinged him through their link, and he moved to the other chair, leaving that one for Bucky.

Once they were all seated, Bucky took Natasha's hand. She in turn held Wanda's, and though she didn't understand the purpose, she held Pietro's. Bucky bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Heavenly Father, bless us, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive. Help us to do our part with kind words, and loving deeds unto our fellow creatures. And most of all Lord, we thank you for bringing Wanda and Pietro into our lives, that we may give them the loving home they need and want. We ask this in your name, Amen."

Natasha echoed, "Amen," though neither of them seemed to find it odd that the twins did not.

~~O~~

After each had served themselves, Bucky chewed and watched Pietro from the corner of his eye as the boy devoured the entire contents of his overloaded plate. Was he making up for missed meals, or did he eat that much all the time?

Unlike her brother, Wanda crossed her knees, and picked daintily at her food, though she too ate more than Bucky thought normal for her age. Then, he thought maybe they were getting into a growth spurt. That would be in keeping with their age. "We have errands to run for the party on Monday. What say we split up along gender lines, and get them all done in one day?"

Natasha wiped her mouth, and laid the napkin in her lap. "You read my mind. Wanda and I will get the decorations, and buy groceries. Then we'll have a girls' day, and do some shopping."

"And Pietro and I will rent tables and chairs to be delivered, and get the games out of the garage. It takes two to put up the volleyball net."

"Works for me. Kids?" Startled that they were being consulted on how to spend their first day in their new home, the twins merely nodded. "Wanda, because James did the cooking, I'll do the cleaning. When you're done eating, find something to amuse yourself, and we'll leave in a few minutes."

The girl smiled, and set her fork on the edge of her plate. "If that is how it is done, then I will help."

Bucky picked up his dishes and carried them to the sink. Pietro followed suit. "Will I also have to learn to cook?"

"And me," Wanda added.

"Won't force you, but if you want to learn, we're willing to teach you." Bucky checked for his phone and wallet. "Let's hit the road, pal. Places to go, things to do." He went around the counter to kiss Natasha, and after a brief hesitation, kissed Wanda on the cheek.

~~O~~

The door closed behind the men, leaving Wanda and Natasha alone with the cats. While washing the dishes, Wanda asked, "What is Labor Day?"

"It's a national holiday celebrated on the first Monday in September, to honor the American labor movement, and the contribution that workers have made to the country. It's also the unofficial end of summer." She dried her hands, and took Wanda's in hers. "And going forward, we'll celebrate it as yours and Pietro's Gotcha Day."

The girl laughed. "Our what?"

"The day you became members of our family. I know, technically, that was yesterday, so it's up to you. Gotcha yesterday, or Gotcha on Monday, which is when you'll be introduced to the entire family. Only Clint knew of our plans to adopt. Had to tell Stark so he'd give us a ride."

"Hmm… I will talk it over with Pietro." Wanda dried the last of the dishes while Natasha cleaned out the sink, and wiped all the counters and the stove down. "Natasha, what will we do on this girls' day?"

Giving her daughter the side-eye, Natasha grinned, and one eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. "You'll see."

~~O~~

Bucky brought the SUV to a smooth stop in the parking lot of the U Buy-Rent-Store-It. As he and Pietro walked to the entrance, he got a text from Steve.

 _*Bringing a couple of guests Monday_.*

 _**Who are they? We barely have room for the ones who've RSVP'd_.**

* _They don't need much room, and they like to play games. We'll bring food_.*

** _Fine. I'll let Tasha know_.**

He put the phone away. "That was Steve, my best friend. He's bringing more guests to the cookout," he explained. "Do you have a best friend back in Sokovia, Pietro?"

The boy shrugged, and made a face. "I used to, but we haven't spoken in a long time. Had a girlfriend too."

Bucky smiled knowingly. "Yeah? She pretty?"

"Very much so. She is now married to Wanda's ex-boyfriend, and they are having a baby." An odd glimmer came into Pietro's eyes, and he looked away in embarrassment.

Bucky opened the door so Pietro could go in, and followed. "Is that a thing in Sokovia? That fourteen-year-olds get married and have babies?"

~~O~~

The moment he told Bucky about Anya and Hugo, Pietro knew he'd made a mistake. But how to stop further questioning? He smiled sheepishly. "I had a crush on her, but she thought of herself as an older sister. And Hugo would take my sister to the cinema once a month on the discount night. Something our foster parents never did."

Bucky nodded. "I'm sorry."

Pietro followed him to the rental counter. "Could you have done this on the computer?"

"I like to go old-school for some things. Besides, they know me here."

The man behind the counter smiled a greeting. "General Barnes! It's that time again. I wondered when you'd be in." He kept eyeing Pietro, who wasn't happy with the scrutiny.

Bucky opened his wallet, and pulled out a credit card. "Having record-breaking attendance this year, Stewie." Bucky clapped a hand on Pietro's shoulder. "This is my son, Pietro. My wife and I just adopted him and his sister. Pietro, Stewie is the assistant manager."

"Hello, Stewie," Pietro dutifully responded though all he wanted to do was be invisible, just for a few minutes. Though the young man was dressed in a ridiculous striped vest that made him look like a reject from the circus, he proved himself more astute than Pietro gave him credit for.

"Great to meet you, Pietro." He leaned on the counter, and lowered his voice. "Look, dude, I know you wanna hang out with your old man and all, but the General and I gotta talk kinda private like. Just for a few minutes, _capiche_?"

Relieved, Pietro lightly slapped Bucky's shoulder, and took off. He wandered through the store, not really seeing much of interest. His phone buzzed, a text from Wanda.

 _*We're at the Discount Mart shopping for strange foods. Are you as bored as I am?*_

He flopped down on the chaise in an outdoor patio display. ** _More. Are they serious? Cooking outside on a make-believe holiday?_ **

* _It's not make-believe. And this part is not so much fun._ *

** _I agree._ **

There was a long pause before his sister answered. * _Natasha is calling. I have to go._ *

Pietro powered down the phone just as Bucky sat in the chair next to him.

"All done. Everything will be delivered on Friday. I need to stop by the museum for a while. Want to tag along, or go home?"

Seeing a way out, Pietro almost took the option to go home, but the look on Bucky's face changed his mind. His father-he had to start thinking of him that way, at least for now-wanted them to spend time together. Pietro jumped up, and slapped Bucky on the leg. "Let's go to the museum, old man."

Chuckling, Bucky rolled to his feet, and pulled him close is a weird sort of hug around his neck. Unlike the last time, he didn't give him noogies. "Watch who you're calling 'old man', pal."

~~O~~

Forty minutes later, Bucky parked in the underground parking, and led the way up the stairs to the main floor. "Why don't you go see the exhibit while I speak to the boss? Just don't leave the building."

"Okay." Pietro waited until Bucky had gone to enter the Howling Commandoes exhibit hall. The first display had a pompous title:

 _Captain America_

 _The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage_

He'd read about Steve Rogers and his amazing transformation when he was found alive after seventy years. It was old news. Captain America was one of the Avengers. Too bad they would all fall when Pietro and Wanda took down Tony Stark.

As he came around the corner, he was faced with mannequins dressed in old uniforms. The sign said they were replicas of the Howling Commandoes. In front of each mannequin was a brass plaque with a short biography. He started at the end and worked his way around, shaking his head at the red, white and blue uniform and mask worn by Steve Rogers.

The next one piqued his interest more than the others. The mural on the wall depicted the men as they looked during World War II, and the one to right of Rogers looked a little like Bucky. Had to be a grandfather or great uncle. Pietro squatted to read the plaque better. They had the same name, yet Bucky hadn't been introduced as a junior or the third in the family line.

Still confused, Pietro moved on to a silent film, listening to the narrator while watching Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes talking and laughing together.

 _Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both the schoolyard, and the battlefield. Barnes nearly lost his life during the capture of Dr. Armin Zola. If it weren't for Rogers, Barnes would've been the first Howling Commando to lose his life in service to his country._

He continued on until he came to a recent color photo. The taller man was Rogers, but it was the man standing next to him that caught his attention. He clenched his jaws to keep from gaping as the pieces all fell into place one by one. The Bucky Barnes who was born in 1917 was the same man who had just adopted Pietro and his sister. "That would make him…"

"Ninety-seven this past March, so technically, I _am_ an old man."

Pietro looked to his left. Bucky had come up beside him, and he hadn't heard or sensed him there. And who could blame him? It's not every day that you find out that your new father was a member of an elite combat unit who had taken down every known active HYDRA base in Europe during World War II.

 **TBC**


	75. Chapter 75

A/N: Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 75**

Bucky tilted his head to the side. "Not a bad likeness. I was twenty-seven the year Steve ditched the Red Skull's plane into the North Atlantic. Almost froze my _ass_ off on that ridge waiting for Zola's train. It was the winter of '44. Never told Steve, but I was afraid of heights then."

The boy's eyes were unblinking, as if Bucky had just shattered misconceptions he'd harbored all his life. And maybe he had. He and Natasha didn't want to push the kids into telling them their life story, not until they were ready. Until then, it was all guesswork.

He patted Pietro on the shoulder. "Let's go, pal. We have a few more stops to make on the way home. Ever put up a volleyball net?"

"Uh, no. I have not." His voice sounded far away, pensive.

"Today, you're gonna learn." Leading the way back to the garage, Bucky wondered what Pietro had seen or read that made him react as he did. Whatever it was, the boy kept staring out the window, and shooting him quick glances whenever he thought Bucky wasn't looking, all with that same contemplative expression. He'd give the boy room, let him bring up what was on his mind in his own time.

They stopped a few places to do errands that had nothing to do with the party, and all the time, Pietro hardly spoke unless he was spoken to. Because his usual MO was to say what was on his mind, this worried Bucky more than a little.

Hours later, he pulled into the driveway, but before he could get out, Pietro stopped him. Bucky looked down at the hand on his arm, thinking the boy was much stronger than he looked. "James, how…"

"How have I survived this long without aging? Oh, I age, but at a much slower rate than normal. It's the same with Steve. I imagine he'll live to be well over a hundred, if you don't count the seventy years he was on ice." He patted Pietro's hand. "Come on. We have work to do." They got out, and opened both back doors, taking out more than a dozen bags from several different clothing and shoe stores, plus two from a pet food specialty store. "Your mom likes to wash clothes before wearing them, but you decide. For now, let's just put them in your room, get a drink, and get those games going."

Bucky opened the front door with the key, shut off the alarm, and avoided stepping on the cats. He set the bags of cat supplies at the bottom of the stairs, and followed Pietro up to his room where they dropped the bags on the bed.

"James…" Pietro opened and closed his mouth, seemingly uncertain what he wanted to say. "I know we said so before… Thank you again for taking us in." He looked Bucky in the eye. "Wanda and I are more grateful than we can ever say."

Touched, Bucky drew the boy into a quick hug. "I know you don't really like displays of affection, but you'll have to get used to it. The Barnes family is publicly demonstrative."

For the first time since the museum, Pietro smiled. "The noogies."

"And hugging. _Lots_ of hugging, holding hands, that sort of thing. You should also be on the lookout for ambush hugs from a small person by the name of Gracie."

"Gracie? She is a granddaughter?"

Leading the way back down the stairs, Bucky snorted. "Great-granddaughter. She's four feet of charm, wit, and Barnes stubbornness. Speaks her mind on any subject she understands, and demands explanations for those she doesn't." In the kitchen, Pietro reached the refrigerator before Bucky, removing a pitcher of iced tea while Bucky got out glasses and filled them with ice. "Fair warning, my oldest daughter, your sister Carolyn, is a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, but she'll come around eventually. And once you get to know everyone, you'll at least tolerate most of them," he said with a grin.

To change the conversation, Bucky finished off his drink, and Pietro did too. Leading the way, Bucky took him to a hidden door under the stairs. Or rather it would be hidden to anyone who didn't know it was there. "We store the games and such in the basement. It's also set up as a sort of indoor game room. Just ping-pong, darts, and a card table."

"I have played card games, but never ping-pong or darts." As they reached the basement, Pietro asked, "Would you teach me?"

"Sure. Let's get everything set up. Maybe by then the girls will be home, and we can all play together." He led the way to shelves in the far corner. "We'll also have to take down part of the fence so there's room for everyone. The, uh, field behind the house belongs to a guy who refuses to sell any part of the land though he doesn't do anything with it. More than fifty acres, enough to build a small amusement park and it just sits there. No one lives on it, and you never see the guy or his family." Bucky tossed the canvas bag holding the volleyball net to Pietro. "So, whenever I need it, we just take down the fence, and put it back up when we're done."

~~O~~

On his way up the stairs with the canvas bag over his shoulder, Pietro received another text from Wanda.

 _We went shopping for clothes and shoes, and got manicures and pedicures_. She included a picture of herself with Natasha showing off their fingers and toes, both painted bright red with black sparkly designs. From her smile, he guessed that his sister was no longer bored.

In the next one, Wanda was showing off a set of new clothes. Blue jeans, a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, with dark red sandals, matching purse, and jewelry, and a straw hat.

Pietro had to admit his sister looked charming dressed in something other than all black, or the dull colored clothing they brought with them to America. From what he'd seen in the movies, she would fit right in with the other teens at the mall, or wherever they hung out these days. The same with the clothes he and Bucky bought. They would fit in with any group of kids, at least until they spoke.

Now, he had so much to tell Wanda that couldn't be conveyed in a text. _When you get home, we have to talk alone_.

Imagining her confused stare, he read her response. _We'll be home shortly_.

Bucky stayed in the basement, banging things around, and moving furniture. Shaking his head, Pietro went out to the back yard. Bucky said the net was to be put up a few feet from the fence, and not under any of the trees. Pietro unzipped the bag, dumped all the pieces in the grass, and sat down to read the instructions. It would indeed take two people to put it up, unless one had been endowed with super-speed.

The net came out of the sealed plastic bag in which it was kept, and Pietro spread it out on the grass where he thought it should go. He put the pieces of the poles together, and placed the tension cords and holding pins according to directions. He cracked his neck on both sides, and took off.

When he was done, he stood at the edge of the deck to admire his handiwork. The back door opened, and he ran to help Bucky bring out the rest of the games. Some didn't need to be set up until it was time to play, so they stacked them in a corner.

The older man turned and saw the net flapping in the light breeze. "How'd you get that done so fast and without help?"

Crossing his arms, Pietro gave him a smug grin. "I read the instructions."

"Oh."

"What part of the fence do we take down?"

Bucky pointed with one hand and held up a pair of wire cutters with the other. "From there, to there. Cut the wires, roll the chain link out of the way, and secure it with a bungee cord. Won't do that until the night before, or the morning of. We need to get the grill from the garage, too."

Nodding and thinking, Pietro felt it was time to ask some questions. "Could we talk about when you escaped from HYDRA?"

For an answer, Bucky waved him over to the patio chairs. They sat down, Bucky crossing one knee over the other. "What do you want to know?"

"How did it happen? The rescue, I mean."

Taking a deep breath, Bucky rubbed the end of his nose, as if he didn't want to remember, and Pietro was immediately sorry he'd asked. But getting the information first-hand was the only way to find out what he needed to confirm his suspicions.

"Schmidt's men captured more than eight hundred men within a few days. My squad was one of the first. We were locked in cages without regard to nationality or division, forced into hard labor, and we were punished severely if we couldn't keep up."

He put his foot on the deck with a hand over his mouth, as if saying the words out loud brought it all to life once more. "They fed us and gave us water to drink, but not on a regular basis. While we were sleeping, the guards would come and take men away. Most, we never saw again.

"I was there a couple of weeks when it came my turn. The guards took me to this dreary, smelly lab, strapped me to a table, and the doctors went to work. Won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say it was way less fun than it sounds. Injections, blood taken, all kinds of tests I would only wish on my worst enemy.

"After one particularly excruciating day-or night, they left me alone. Not sure for how long. All I remember is repeating my name, rank, and serial number over and over. I'd pass out, and come to what seemed like a few minutes later, but was hours, or longer.

"Then, suddenly Steve was there. Instead of this skinny, scrawny little guy with a laundry list of medical problems, he was over six feet, super-strong, and hasn't been sick a day since."

At this point, Bucky got up and went inside. Uncertain if he should follow, Pietro let him be. Bucky was back in under a minute with two bottles. He handed one to Pietro, and kept the other, twisting off the top and tossing it on the table.

Looking at the label, Pietro was surprised to see that it was beer. Bucky saw his question, and grinned. "Just don't tell your mother, and don't expect it all the time."

Pietro opened the bottle and took a long sip. He never had beer before, and didn't like it much, but drank it anyway for the bonding moment with his new father.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah. Before he found me, Steve opened all the cages, and the men were swarming through the compound taking out Schmidt's HYDRA guards. Schmidt set off the self-destruct, and he and Zola hightailed it out of there. Steve led the men back to the base, and shortly after that, we formed the Howling Commandoes."

Holding the bottle in one hand, Pietro ran a hand through his hair, and decided to tell Bucky the reason he asked to hear the story. But first, he ran up to his room where he took down the old box with the last remnants of their parents, carefully lifting out a box covered in cloth, and tied with string. He ran back down stairs, and out to the patio. "James, do you remember a man by the name of Jozef Lakatos?"

Bucky squinted into the past while drinking the last of the beer, and shaking his head. "Steve rescued over four hundred men that day. Don't know their names, just their faces."

He watched Pietro with that penetrating gaze, the one that seemed to be able to see into his soul. Pietro could see Bucky had already figured it out. He gently untied the string, peeled back the cloth, and opened the box to reveal a faded red beret with a white eagle wearing a crown insignia on the front. "Jozef Lakatos served as Mlodszy Chorąży, a Sergeant 1st Class in the Polish Army during World War II. After the war, he moved to Sokovia, became a citizen. He married, had children, grandchildren…"

"Great-grandchildren?"

" _Da_. If you and Steve Rogers hadn't rescued him that day, my sister and I, our parents, and grandparents would not have been born."

~~O~~

More excited about their shopping trip now than when they first left the house, Wanda gathered bags from the trunk of Natasha's car, as many as she could carry, and Natasha took the rest. "I wonder what the boys have been up to."

"Pietro sent a text that they were renting furniture."

"It's cheaper to rent than to buy enough tables and chairs for the family and friends when we have a party, and we don't have to worry about storing them."

The cats came running down the stairs crying for attention. Wanda put down her bags to pet them. Except for Ryder, they all seemed to appreciate the chin and head scritches. "Why does that one not allow me to touch him?"

Natasha smiled as she headed up the stairs. "It's not you, _lyubimaya_. It takes him a while to warm up to people. He was abused by his former owner." She waited while Wanda opened her bedroom door, and followed her in. They set the bags on the bed. One fell on the floor, spilling the contents. Immediately, the cats were all over the clothes hangers and organizers, sniffing each one, looking for traps.

"We have never had a pet before. This morning, Archie and Rufus? They scared Pietro. I will tell him to make sure his door is closed tonight."

A laugh burst out of Natasha, startling Wanda. "Good luck with that. The cats are able to open the doors. It's the lever handles. Until now, there hasn't been a reason to change them out. We'll work on it when I get home from my business trip."

"Must you leave so soon?"

In the hall, Natasha put her arm around Wanda's shoulders, and without thinking, Wanda did the same. "Unfortunately, yes. I'll only be gone a couple of days in the middle of the week. If you're up to it, we could spend next weekend at your Uncle Clint's. He's anxious to meet you."

"He is your brother?"

"I don't have siblings. Clint is my best friend, and will be your godfather, but only if you and Pietro agree." They let go of each other as they went down the stairs where the cats were waiting, trailing them through the living room. Natasha opened the door to the thing she called a catio, and all five ran out. "He's not able to come to the party."

Wanda didn't say anything because Pietro was sending her a signal through their link. Without being obvious, Wanda sent a small tendril of psionic energy Natasha's way as she opened the back door, and they joined the men on the deck. The psionic energy didn't alter Natasha's way of thinking. It simply made it easier to read her thoughts, should it become necessary.

Natasha kissed Pietro on the cheek and Bucky on the lips.

"How was the girls' day out?"

Natasha rested a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Inspirational. I spent most of the day helping Wanda assimilate into American society. It's important that she be immersed in the local cultural offerings."

Bucky pulled Natasha onto his lap. "So, mani-pedis, Victoria's Secret, and lattes."

In answer, Wanda smiled with excitement, wiggling her fingers, and presenting her feet for perusal. "It was _amazing_. It is done every few weeks."

"So they tell me." Bucky twitched one shoulder. "What should we have for dinner tonight? Don't feel like cooking."

"Delivery sounds perfect. What d'you say, kids? Pizza?"

Within thirty minutes, they were sitting down to pizza, salad, games, and excited conversation, mostly from Wanda and Pietro.

As they carried the empty containers up from the basement, Bucky told them, "When Clint comes in a week or so, he can help you choose what color to paint your walls. He'll change out the doorknobs too."

"Once that's done, we'll go pick out furniture, curtains, and carpeting."

The twins shared a look, not needing their link to know what the other was thinking. As the oldest, Pietro spoke for them. "But you've done so much already. Paris, Disney World, the clothes, and a party. We can't ask you to do more."

For a short moment, Wanda got the sense that they'd insulted their parents. Then, she and Bucky were smiling again.

 _They sure smile a lot_ , she thought at her brother.

 _I have noticed_ , was his response. _Why do you think this is?_

The twins were urged into the living room, and invited to sit on the sofa. Natasha and Bucky stood in front of them. Would this be their first "grounding"?

"Let's get one thing straight," Bucky crossed his arms, the look on his face only a mild reprimand. After a quick peek into his head, Wanda realized why. "The party would go on, with or without you."

"We're _not_ trying to buy your affections," Natasha told them with a serious expression.

"Family does for one another, no matter what." Bucky went to sit next to Wanda, while Natasha perched on the low table in front of them. "The military has a saying: No man left behind. It's also the family motto. You're our children. We're not doing all of this because we want you to like us, though we _do_ , very much."

Natasha held their hands. "We do it out of love. If you prefer the bedrooms as they are, that's up to you." She stood, and the look on her face was one of determination, and affection. "Otherwise, we're going forward with the redecoration, and _I'll_ decide color schemes and furniture."

 **Later That Night**

When she was dressed for bed, Wanda knocked on Pietro's door. He opened it, she stepped inside, and it was closed again. She looked past him, seeing the beret on the bed. "What's going on? Why have you taken it out?"

Pietro led her over to sit on the foot of the bed, and picked up the beret, holding it and the cloth in his lap. "James took me to the museum today. While he was working, I went into the Howling Commandoes exhibit." She huffed, preferring him to get to the point so she wouldn't have to go in and get the information. "I believe we should rethink our strategy for revenge. Not against Tony Stark, but our plan to use James and Natasha as a means to achieve that goal."

"Why? And what does it have to do with Deda's cap?"

Her brother lovingly rub a thumb over the insignia. "Remember the stories Papa told us about Deda in the war?"

"Of course. Why?"

He looked at her from the side, and away. "One of the men who saved Deda is sleeping down the hall with our new mother."

 **Rey's Condo**

After all that had happened in the last couple of weeks, Rey was and wasn't happy to see Justin show up on her doorstep instead of the back door. He'd just up and left one day, and hadn't returned, though he had left a few messages. "What do you _want_ , Justin?"

 _Really? You're confused by my tone?_

"Could I come in?"

Exasperated with herself as much as him for giving in, she stood back, grumbling, "Sure."

Once he was inside, she closed the door, feeling him watch as she preceded him into the living room without speaking.

"Did I do something wrong?" Cleopatra, the traitor, walked by Rey as if she didn't exist. Justin picked her up, and sat on the sofa, cuddling her close, and rubbing between her eyes to make her purr, and whispering to her in Russian.

Taking a seat on the arm of the recliner, Rey crossed her arms and sighed. "I'm not sure anymore. You left days ago without telling me where you were going, or if you'd be back. Don't get me wrong. You don't have to account to me for your time. But it would've been nice to have a heads-up."

"You didn't _do_ anything, Rey. I left messages asking you to call me back, but you never did. Thought that meant I wasn't welcome anymore." He stopped petting the cat, and she pawed at him to continue. "So, I came to get my stuff."

Rey nodded at the bag in the corner. She'd packed it two days ago. "It's hard to return a call when the number they're calling from is private. Then there's the problem of the messages themselves. They were all in Russian."

His forehead crinkled in confusion. "It must be your phone…"

Pursing her lips in annoyance, Rey accessed the first saved voice mail message, and hit speaker.

 _Privet, Rey. YA ostayus's_ Chase _na neskol'ko dney. Pozhaluysta, pozvoni mne. Do skorogo,_ _zayka moya_.

She shut the phone off and tossed it on the coffee table. "You were saying?"

Justin put Cleopatra on the floor despite her protests, planted his elbows on his knees, and gave himself a double face palm. "I am so, so sorry. After the tests to make sure all the programming was gone, it was such a relief, I sometimes didn't realize I was speaking Russian. Chase called me on it a few of times, but…"

He got up and went to the window. Something about the neighbor's garden seemed to calm his muddled mind. _Maybe I should put one in the back_.

When she realized where her mind was headed, Rey mentally rolled her eyes. Why did she think that Justin would want to live with her now that he was himself again? Just because they dated before, and had mind-blowing sex a few times in the present, didn't mean he wanted to be in her life permanently. "You staying with Chase for a while?"

He turned around, leaned against the wall between the windows, showing intense interest in the tops of his shoes. "Can't get a place of my own until I'm legally declared not dead. Nat's working on it." Slowly, as if he were afraid of what he might see, Justin lifted his head until their eyes met. With his head tilted to the side, a slow smile spread over his features, and both eyebrows inched up his forehead.

That expression did it every time, and he knew it, damn him. " _Fine_. You can stay here until the world knows you're not dead anymore."

"And what if I wanted to stay longer?"

Stunned, Rey opened her mouth, but couldn't speak.

In response to her non-response, Justin moved so fast, she barely had time to take a breath before she was swept into his arms. His lips found hers, and in an instant, all of her resistance was gone. He picked her up, and carried her into the bedroom, using his foot to kick the door shut in Cleopatra's face. She meowed a protest, but neither one heard, or would've cared.

 **Chase'** **s Condo**

The shower shut off, Chase pushed the curtain out of the way, and stepped onto the bath mat. He quickly dried his hair then wrapped the same towel around his hips, tucking the end in the front just under his navel as he walked to the living room for his phone.

Scrolling through the texts from the night club, and the computer techs, he came upon one from Iris. Just two words: _Call me_.

Using his thumb, Chase hit speed dial, and put it on speaker as he headed down the hall to his bedroom.

" _Castillo_."

"It's Chase. What's up?" He laid the phone on the bed while he finished drying off and put on his pajamas.

" _Forgot to ask what to bring Monday._ "

Chase sat on the foot of the bed to dry between his toes. "Since you're coming for the show, popcorn with extra butter?"

Iris snorted, and under that sound he heard the creak of her wheelchair as she rolled down the hall. " _I'm serious, Chase. I make a decent Thai cucumber salad. And no one's ever gotten sick from my grilled garlic parmesan zucchini_."

"Sounds good. Bring those. We always have lots of leftovers, so bring a dish to take some home."

He heard the clack of the foot rests going up, and Iris' grunt as she stood. Something she only did when she was tired. " _You got it. I'll stop at the grocery store on the way home tomorrow._ "

"We usually eat a little after one or so. I'll pick you up."

Dakota panted into the phone, and yipped. " _Hush, Dakota! That's not necessary. I can drive myself._ "

He scooped up the phone, and carried it with him to hang the towel over the curtain rod. "In case you haven't guessed, this is a date, Iris. And a gentleman _always_ picks up his date."

" _Oh, I see_." There were more background noises that sounded like she was using her walker. " _Say when and I'll be ready_."

Chase returned to the bedroom and lay down on his back staring at the ceiling. "Eleven-ish?"

" _Perfect. See you then. Bye._ "

"'Night." Smiling, he shut off the phone, and put it on his bedside table, thinking about the other times he'd fallen for someone he worked with. "You're a ******* _idiot_ , Lockwood."

 **TBC**

 _Privet,_ Rey _. YA ostayus's_ Chase _na neskol'ko dney. Pozhaluysta, pozvoni mne. Do skorogo,_ _zayka moya_ = Hi, Rey. I'm staying with Chase for a few days. Please call me. Talk to you soon, my bunny.


	76. Chapter 76

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 76**

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

Standing in the ensuite doorway, Bucky watched his wife brush her teeth. "Tasha?"

"Hunh?"

"Pietro and I had a long talk this afternoon."

She glanced at him from the side, while continuing to brush. "U-uh a-ouu?"

He crossed his arms, and leaned on the jamb. "He and Wanda were brought up on stories about their great-grandfather during the war." Bucky scratched his chest through the t-shirt, and went to sit on the side of the bed while Natasha rinsed. "His name was Jozef Lakatos. He served in the Polish Army, and was one of the men Steve brought home the night he found me in the lab. After the war, he moved to Sokovia. You can guess the rest."

Natasha turned the water on, splashed her face, poured a small amount of cleanser into her palm to wash her face. "But you don't believe it. Why would he lie? It's easy enough to check."

"I'm sure they know that. Which is why I think he's telling the truth."

She rinsed, and dried, her voice muffled by the towel. "That's an amazing coincidence, James. You saved the life of the man who gave birth to our children."

"What if it's _not_ a coincidence?"

"They chose us on purpose, because they knew who you were?"

Bucky reached out his hand, and Natasha came to sit on his lap. "To go by his expression, he didn't put it together until now. I think they chose us because of _you_ , and got me as a sort of bonus." She draped her arm around his neck. "I haven't told Steve yet."

Her small hand brushed hair from his forehead, and she smiled affectionately. "Tell him Monday."

"Speaking of… He and Joi are bringing a couple of guests. Didn't give their names."

One side of her mouth twitched upward. "As you say, the more, the merrier."

He stood with Natasha is his arms, and carried her to the vanity. As he did most nights before bed, Bucky brushed her hair. "It's disconcerting to see something that happened so long ago come back decades later."

Their eyes met in the mirror. "I see it every day, James. We both do. It's in the faces of our family, as well as strangers. They're attracted by the same qualities I sensed the moment we met."

"Ah, so you were drawn in by my sarcastic, moody, self-indulgent stubbornness. Ow!" That last was said to the swat on the leg Natasha nailed him with.

She spun around to face him. Bucky went down on one knee so they were at eye level. "I'm talking about your generous spirit, optimistic outlook, and passion for life." Those small, yet strong hands framed his face. "You've had a positive impact on the world in general, General."

He looked away. "It was Steve who saved those men, not me. I was in the same predicament as them. Worse. Steve had to carry me from the lab."

"Our son and daughter think you're a hero, _lyubimaya moya_. Your whole family does. And you're _my_ hero for saving me from being alone for the rest of my life." Embarrassed by her glowing description, Bucky turned away. She stopped him by holding onto his shoulders. "It's not always the grand gestures that get noticed. Sometimes, it's the small ones that have the most impact. Tell me, have you ever given your seat to someone on the bus or train, or let someone else take the cab you flagged down?"

Wondering where she was going with it, he shrugged. "Mom raised me to be a gentleman, so yeah. But that doesn't make me a hero."

"You are to the person who sits in the seat, or rides in the cab. What you've never understood is that heroes are ordinary people who, by accident or out of necessity, have done extraordinary things."

He thought about it a bit, and stood, striking a heroic pose. "Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws," he used the brush as his imaginary sword, holding it high, "and asks no omen, but his country's cause."

"Exactly." Natasha turned him around, and pushed him toward the bed. "Bedtime, General. The house has to be cleaned tomorrow." She lowered her voice. "While you and the kids are doing that, I have a couple of errands to run." When he reached the bed, Bucky quickly spun around, grabbed hold of Natasha, and fell back, making her squeal. "James! What are you…"

He stopped her with a long, hot kiss, ending any protest she might have made. "I'm giving you a chance to be _my_ hero."

That slow, sensuous smile of hers inflamed him once again. "Oh, well in that case…"

~~O~~

"How can that be? Novacek said he had grandchildren, but…" Wanda flashed her brother an annoyed scowl when he interrupted.

He put the box into her hands, and went to get the laptop on the desk. "I found some of the information online in case you didn't believe me."

"It's not that, Pietro. I don't understand how he can be ninety-seven years old. He does not look more than fifty." She brought Bucky's face to mind, and held with her assessment.

"His youngest great-grandchild is a seven-year-old girl by the name of Gracie. His granddaughter Joi is three years older than Natasha, and is married to…" he tabbed to another photo, "…Steve Rogers."

Wanda peered at the screen, reading the short article below. "Captain America." She lay the box reverently aside, and stood. "We should talk to them." At the door, she stopped, head tilted to the side.

"What's wrong?"

Embarrassed at what she was sensing, Wanda couldn't meet her brother's eyes. "Nothing. I'm tired. Let's do this in the morning."

He made a huffing noise that she intensely disliked, and he knew it. "Why not now? They're still up."

"Yes, they are. But they're… busy." Now Wanda did look at Pietro with one eyebrow raised, and finally, he understood.

"You're right. Morning _will_ be better."

Wanda returned to her room, making sure to close the door. She pulled the covers down, slipped into bed, and switched out the light. With all the excitement of the past few days, she thought she'd go right to sleep. However, she lay there looking at the shadows on the ceiling, mesmerized by the bits of light that came and went with the movement of the tree just outside her window.

Then, she heard rattling, and a moment later, the door opened just enough to let Priscilla and one of the males into the room. She looked closer, and saw that it was Rufus. The cats jumped up on the bed with her, walked to the head, and sat down. She gave them each a neck rub, feeling the stress of the day drain away at the sound of their purrs.

Priscilla laid down on her right side, and Rufus on the left, both pressing their bodies against her ribs so she could feel the vibrations of their purrs. With a hand on their sides, Wanda fell asleep within moments.

 **Rey's Condo**

"And this means…" Justin held up both hands with the first two fingers crossed, moving them out and in quickly, "…are you ready?" Rey copied him. "Good. Now because the deaf can't hear applause…" he opened his hands, and shook them, "…use jazz hands."

She poked him in the stomach. "Silly. Thanks for teaching me a few words. I've only met Serenity once, and Chase translated." Turning onto her stomach, she rested her head on her arm where it lay on his chest while the other drew random designs in the hair that was finally growing back. "Think your family will find it weird that you're with me, and not some hot hunk from the WWE or a model?"

"Not a fan over hyperdeveloped muscles on men _or_ women, and models have an overinflated view of their looks." Justin rubbed his palm up and down Rey's bare back. "I think they'll be so shocked to know I'm alive that they won't care. Not right away. Later, when it wears off, Mom will be happy I've finally found someone." Her movements stopped, and started again. "She didn't like Sean, and not because he was a guy, and we were living together. His personality rubbed her the wrong way. He didn't like to mingle. The few times he came to a family gathering, he sat in the gazebo brooding the whole time. I knew it wouldn't last when _Gracie_ didn't like him, and _she_ likes everyone."

"I hope she likes _me_."

Holding her under the arms, Justin lifted Rey up and over on top of him, urging her down for a kiss. They parted, and he smiled. "The munchkin will love you."

"What did it mean? The message."

For a moment, he felt embarrassed, more for the fact that he hadn't realized he was speaking Russian. "I said, 'Hi, Rey. I'm staying with Chase for a few days. Please call me. Talk to you soon, my bunny'."

Rey's expression told him she didn't care for the nickname "bunny", and she proved it with her response.

"My bunny? Seriously? You are _not_ calling me bunny as a pet name."

"We'll think of something." Rubbing his hands up and down her arms, he sobered, and cuddled her close. "I've put you through so much, Rey. I don't know _why_ you put up with me."

To his surprise, she chuckled, and one hand came up to touch his cheek. "That's easy to explain, Jay." She pushed up onto her elbows so she could see his face, her eyes shining. "It's because I love you." Shocked speechless, Justin stared at her with wide eyes, and she rushed to assure him, "I-I'm sorry. Until I said it, I didn't even realize how I felt. And don't worry about saying it back, 'cause it came out of the blue…"

Justin stopped her with a kiss, rolled until she was under him, and separated their mouths just enough to say, "I am _so_ glad to hear you say that, because I love you too."

 **Stark Tower**

 **The Next Morning**

The elevator opened, Natasha stepped out followed by Justin in his disguise of cap, sunglasses, and hoodie. She led him down the hall to a glass walled lab. Inside, she could see Tony sitting in a chair, staring at the computer screen with that same lost look she'd seen at Disney World.

She tapped on the glass, startling him. He shut down the computer, and by the time the door opened, his ever-present grin was in place. "You know, I'm thinking of putting a limit of the number of favors each Avenger can ask for."

On the threshold, Justin cast his gaze over the high-tech electronics, and suddenly seemed unsure. "Oh, uh, maybe I should…"

Tony indicated they should follow him to the holotable. "Romanoff's told me your life story, or rather the last few years of it." He waved a hand to activate it, and opened several programs.

"Justin, this is Tony Stark. Tony, Justin." No further introductions were needed as Natasha had given him the whole story the night before. "I'll just leave you two boys alone with your toys."

~~O~~

Under the hum of electronics, Justin heard Tony moving around, muttering under his breath. He watched him, and because of his own situation, he knew the look of someone who'd lost his whole world, or a large part of it. On the far side of the room, he spied several Iron Man suits standing in alcoves. They drew him in, mesmerized him.

Starting at one end, Justin examined each one without touching it. Some were unpainted, the metal silvery. He heard a clunk, and turned to see a black robot. Its long arm had a hand-like appendage that was holding a piece of cloth. The robot used the cloth to polish the first suit, even under the arms.

"Not on a sightseeing tour, pal. We gotta get you ready for your big reveal on Monday."

Justin approached the holotable with wary steps. "What's the first step, Mr. Stark?"

The billionaire tapped commands into the table faster than even Justin could read them. "The first step is you call me Tony. After that," he motioned him closer, grabbing hold of the metal arm, turning it this way and that for a visual examination, "Jarvis scans the arm, and we create a synthetic covering that will look and feel just like the real thing."

"How long will it take?"

"Why? You got a date?"

Tony appeared to be genuinely interested, and it was a good show. But that's all it was. A show. Something was going on, and it weighed on his host's mind, taking a toll on his body. His pants were baggy, showing that he'd lost weigh recently. The skin of his face was pale against the dark beard that needed shaping.

Justin put all his weight onto one foot, and crossed his arms. "Yeah. Kinda. We're supposed to meet for dinner."

"It'll be a stretch, but we'll get you out of here on time."

He acknowledged Tony with a nod. "Ready to do the scan, or whatever?"

"What? Oh, scan's done." He looked up at the ceiling. "Jarvis? Break it down for me."

" _Yes, sir. The outer layers of the plates are composed of a vibranium composite similar to that used to create Captain Rogers' shield, in a much purer form._ " The hologram hovering over the table moved and altered, creeping Justin out by virtually cutting open the arm, and examining the internal workings. " _The majority of the hard and software were created by Stark Industries_."

This revelation didn't seem to bother Tony. "Not news. SI has its hands in many pies."

In the hologram, the outer shell peeled away, hanging in the air, spinning slowly while notations and icons appeared next to certain areas. " _I've concluded that the external framework had begun its life as an empty shell, capable of being fitted over a flesh and blood arm. Like the shield, it deflects bullets, and absorbs certain types of energy, as well as deflecting others. The wearer would exhibit extraordinary. Perhaps double that of the arm over which it was worn_."

Letting the voice of the computer fade out, Justin put a few pieces together, and came to what he hoped was an incorrect conclusion. He rejoined the conversation in time to hear this Jarvis person confirming his theory.

" _There is enough DNA adhering to the inside surface to create a profile_."

"Who's DNA?" The words came out of Justin before he could stop them. A photo appeared over the table of a man with short dark hair, piercing blue eyes, wearing the dress uniform of a General in the United States Army, circa sometime after the Viet Nam war. It was a face he knew all too well.

" _General…_ "

"James Buchanan Barnes, retired."

Tony looked at him, showing more interest. "You're _that_ Justin," he snapped his fingers, "Barnes' grandson, the one who went missing, and was declared deceased, uh…"

Again, the voice responded. " _Two years and two months ago, sir_."

"Right." Tony returned to the desk, moving things around, but not finding what he was looking for until a whine brought his attention to the black robot. Instead of the cloth, he held a large yellow envelope. "That's yours, by the way. Romanoff laid the groundwork to bring you back to life, and tasked me with getting the documents."

Justin took the envelope, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he now wore the same arm that HYDRA had used on Gramps until he got away.

A hand waved in front of his eyes. "Look alive here, buddy. Take your goodies up to the penthouse. Get yourself food and drink, play games, watch television, movies, whatever floats your boat. There's even a lap pool, and a workout room, should you desire physical activity. If you want a nap, just ask Jarvis. We'll give you a call when we're ready to do this."

"Um, thanks, Tony."

In the lift, Justin scanned the buttons, and pressed the one labeled PH. When he reached the penthouse, he sat on the sofa. He opened the tab on the envelope and pulled out a driver's license, a passport with several stamps already in it, three, no four credit cards. There was a copy of his original birth certificate, his social security card, his death certificate with a stamp that invalidated it, the legal documents stating that he was not dead. It also included everything he needed to back up Natasha's story that he'd been undercover with a drug cartel in Russia all this time, the same story he'd told Rey.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Justin got up and went to the bar for a drink. Normally, he wouldn't bother with alcohol because it didn't affect him. But today, he needed something with a little more kick. A bottle of Jack found its way into his hand. He poured himself a full tumbler, and stood there looking at it for a full ten seconds then poured it back, and left the bottle on the counter. He found water in the refrigerator, and drank one down, taking a second with him as he roamed the floor.

There didn't seem to be any security measures in place to keep him out of certain areas, so he wandered down a long hall. Doors lined both sides, and each had a name on it: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Dr. Bruce Banner, Thor, Clint Barton, and three with no names that he supposed were guest rooms.

The end of the hall opened out into a huge balcony that looked out over the length of Manhattan. Justin let himself out, and went to the railing. "Wow!"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Justin turned to face the man who'd come to join him. He hadn't been startled because he heard him coming long before the lift arrived. "Yes, it is. Good to see you again, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce." The shorter man stuck out his hand, and they shook. "Welcome back, Justin."

"It's good to _be_ back."

The men stood at the railing together, Bruce with his hands in his pockets. "I… I want to apologize."

Confused, Justin shook his head. "For?"

"It was _my_ signature on your death certificate. I had a hunch that you weren't dead, but that's all it was. A gut feeling in the face of facts to the contrary. So, I signed."

Relieved that it wasn't something more, Justin dropped into one of the chairs, and Bruce sat next to him. "It's not your fault, Bruce. Facts are facts. You can't change them. And for all intents and purposes, I was dead." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and rubbing his hands together. "Even considering the things HYDRA made me do, I can't find it in me to wish I _had_ been killed in the woods that day."

"A positive attitude will go a long way, if or when the PTSD kicks in."

Justin sat back, and rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. "Is it really as bad as they say?"

Bruce slapped him on the back. "Worse."

Turning to look at his companion, Justin exhaled loudly. "Well, ****."

 **Labor Day**

Wanda and Pietro stood at his bedroom window watching the mass of people in the back yard, laughing, talking, and having fun. They could smell the food cooking on the barbeque, and in the kitchen. Long tables had been set up on the deck where the guests would serve themselves buffet style.

The twins were dressed similar to everyone else, shorts, t-shirts, and sneakers. Pietro in blue and white, and Wanda in red, white and green. Her hair had been twisted into a braid, and secured with a colorful tie.

They turned at a knock on the door. Pietro called out, "Come in."

Natasha opened the door. "Ready to meet your new family?"

"We are," Wanda said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

She gave them a lopsided smile. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

The trio went downstairs, and on the way to the back door, they peeked into the kitchen where two women and three men were preparing food. The woman with short dark hair wearing khaki pants and a dark green and white top issued orders like a general.

"That's your sister Carolyn, James' oldest, her husband, Martin in the black shorts, Olivia and Michael, his youngest and her husband, and the shorter man is Jacob, the second youngest of his sons." Natasha nudged them toward the open door. "Go out there and mingle, get something to drink, play a game, whatever. We're waiting on Serenity and Collin, and Steve, Joi, and their guests." The doorbell rang. Natasha pushed them toward the door. "We'll introduce you before we eat."

They stepped onto the deck, uncertain where to start. Then, a young girl came running up to them.

"Hi! I'm Gracie. Who are you?"

Taking the lead, Pietro pointed to his sister, "This is Wanda, and I'm Pietro."

The girl scrunched up her nose. "Pee-yay-tro? That's a funny name. Are you friends of Papa's and Tasha's?"

Utterly charmed, Wanda held out her hand, and Gracie took it. "Yes, we are. It is good to meet you, Gracie. Natasha and James have told us so much about you."

At hearing her accent, Gracie's eyes went wide with wonder. "You talk weird. Where're you from?"

To appear less intimidating, Pietro crouched at her level. "We're from Sokovia. That's in Eastern Europe."

Gracie gave them a delighted grin. "Cool! I don't know _anybody_ from there." She got between them and took their hands. "Come on. I'll introduce you to everybody."

~~O~~

At the door, Natasha heard barking in two different tones, and Steve and Joi's voices saying, "Quiet!"

She opened the door, and it was as she suspected. Joi and Steve had adopted a mismatched pair of dogs. They all hugged, and Natasha held the door so they could come in. "Who have we here?"

Joi held the lead for a shaggy brown and white dog whose head reached her waist. "This is Bruno. He's a goberian, a cross between a golden retriever and a Siberian husky."

Steve picked up the smaller dog, white with a black spot over the left eye and ear. "And this is Trixie. We're not sure what she is. Someone abandoned them."

The group came in, and Natasha closed the door. "And you took them in."

"We're also looking for a house. Still haven't decided where yet," Joi informed her as they crossed into the living room. Steve put Trixie down, and both dogs tugged at their leads, anxious to join in the fun. Bruno pulled hard, nearly knocking Joi off her feet. "Bruno! Heel! Sit!" Immediately, the big animal came to her side, and sat down, looking up at Joi with canine adoration, his tongue hanging out.

Steve switched the lead from one hand to another. "So, what's the big secret?"

Feigning innocence, Natasha said, "Secret?"

"Yeah. Bucky's been all hyped up about some huge announcement the two of you are making today."

Her smile turned into a smirk. "We're just waiting on Serenity and Collin to spill the beans." As if in response, the doorbell rang just as Sam came in the back door.

"I'll get it!" He shook hands with Steve, and gave Joi a peck on the cheek. "Took you long enough."

~~O~~

Sam reached the door just as it rang again. He and Mia had been given the job of keeping the kids entertained, and this was just the break he needed.

The door opened, and Sam was taken aback by the sight of Chase standing on the welcome mat holding a petite and incredibly attractive African-American woman in his arms. Over his shoulder, Sam called out, "Whoever ordered a pretty girl to be delivered, she here!" He turned back to Chase. "Where do I sign?"

The woman laughed when Chase snorted. "She's with me, Sam. And I need a place to put her while I go after the wheelchair and food."

Sam stood back so Chase could come inside. "I'm Sam, by the way. A friend of the Barnes Clan. If you don't mind crowds, the deck's great, uh…"

"Iris." They shook hands. "Nice to meet you, Sam."

"Likewise, Iris." Sam took Chase's keys dangling from his belt loop. "I'll get the stuff from the car. You go introduce your girlfriend around."

~~O~~

Chase rolled his eyes, but Sam was already out on the stoop. "She's not my…" he winced when the door slammed, "…girlfriend." He shared a sheepish grin with Iris. "See what I have to put up with?"

"I like him." She craned her neck, trying to see out the back. "Do I smell hot links?"

 **TBC**

Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.  
~ Homer, _The Iliad_


	77. Chapter 77

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 77**

With the back door open, the smells from the grill filled the house, and yes, the distinctive scent of hot links came through, mixed in with everything else. Lined up against the walls were ten coolers he knew held a variety of cold drinks, including alcoholic drinks for those so inclined.

Chase found a couple of chairs not far from the buffet tables. Turning so Iris could see, he nodded. "That okay?"

"It'll do. I'll need help getting in and out of the house to the ladies' room." He set her on her feet, and she gripped his arms tight until she was steady. She reached behind her for the arms of the chair, and sat down.

"What can I get you to drink? You name it, we've probably got it."

Sam joined them, pushing the wheelchair with the food containers in the seat. He found places for them on the tables, and brought the chair to her side. "Your wheels, Iris."

"Thanks, Sam." Chase crouched in front of her, and she smiled at the small courtesy. "I'll take a lemonade, if you have it."

He leaned close, lowering his voice. "Between you and me, my family is a little easier to take with copious amounts of alcohol."

She nodded at the wheelchair. "I'm driving."

"Not to worry," he assured as he got to his feet. "I promise to get you home safely."

"In that case, make it anything with alcohol then."

Chase returned with two bottles of white wine. He twisted the top off one, and handed it to Iris before opening his own, and taking the seat next to her. They took a swig, and people watched while he told her names. Most were family, a few were neighbors, and some were friends. Across the yard, near the gazebo, Gracie stood with a young man and woman he'd never seen before. Nicole's daughter felt it was her solemn duty to make sure that newcomers got to meet everyone. At the moment, they were talking to a couple of the neighbors.

"While I have your attention, assuming I do, we need to talk over a couple of business points, Chase."

Tearing his eyes from the odd scene, he gave her all his attention. "Hit me, girl."

"If we close early on Sundays and Mondays eleven or twelve, we'd save a wad of cash that can be spent elsewhere. Upgrades, for instance."

He took another drink while he thought over her proposal. "I'll tell the staff this week. With all that's been happening with my family, guess my mind's not fully on the business. I'm glad one of us has a level head."

"That's what you pay me for, remember?" Iris shifted in her seat, and Chase resisted asking if she was okay. After their first couple of hours working in the same office, she'd demanded that he quit asking every ten minutes.

"What was that about upgrades?"

"The registers are nearly obsolete. Our service contract is up in a few months, and the company sent us an email saying they won't renew."

Chase shook his head. "Meant to take care of that months ago. Sorry it's all on you."

She made a half-shrug. "No biggie. I've also hired a new bouncer. He's starting next week, provided he passes the drug test."

His attention was drawn to Serenity and Collin standing away from everyone, signing so fast they had to be having an argument. Finally, Serenity held Collin's hands with both of hers, shaking her head emphatically. Collin's shoulders slumped, and he nodded.

The couple went to talk to Natasha, while Bucky was holding court by the grill. They were turned slightly away, and Chase had to lean to the right in order to see what they were saying. He jumped when Iris shook him. "What's up?"

"The advantage of knowing ASL is being able to 'listen in' on other people's conversations without them knowing."

"So, what are they saying?"

He finished off his drink, and went to toss it in the recycling bin behind them. "Can't see their hands."

They heard barking, and turned to see two dogs chasing and being chased by Gracie, her two charges, Steve, Joi, and a couple of the neighborhood kids. Someone threw a Frisbee, and the small dog jumped in the air to catch it then played keep-away.

A shrill whistle split the air, and the noise abated. Bucky and Natasha were standing at the edge of the deck. Everyone gathered close. Whatever was going on, his grandfather was super excited. Natasha was too. She just covered it better.

"First, we want to thank everyone for coming. It's always a joy to have family and friends around on special holidays." Bucky turned to Natasha.

"And today is peculiarly exciting because we have exciting news to share."

Steve and Joi now had leads on the dogs, and the two teenagers gently pushed their way through the crowd to stand with Natasha and Bucky. "For those of you who don't know, Natasha and I got married a couple of weeks ago." Applause erupted, and Gramps waited it out. "Thank you. Steve and Joi also got married. In fact, the four of us ended up in Vegas at the same chapel at the same time." More applause and whistles.

Natasha waved them quiet. "Even more importantly," Gramps drew the two teens over between them, "James and I would like to introduce our children, Wanda and Pietro."

"They're twins, adopted from Sokovia just this week. We waited until we had everyone together to make the announcement, and we know you'll make Wanda and Pietro feel welcome. Be sure to introduce yourselves, if Gracie hasn't already done it."

Over near the grill, Chase could see his mother looking on with disapproval. Probably a combination of the elopement of both couples, and not discussing the adoption with the family in advance.

Iris leaned close to whisper, "Who _is_ that?"

"My grandfather."

" _Grandfather?!_ But how…"

Chase put a finger to his lips for silence.

The kids smiled tightly, uncomfortable with so much attention on them. Natasha squeezed their hands, and nodded for them to move to the side. "Serenity and Collin have an announcement of their own. For those of you who don't know ASL, James will translate."

The couple took center stage, taking turns signing. "We have been keeping a secret too, and wanted to be sure before we let everyone know." They looked at each other, and smiled. "We're having a baby. If it's a boy, we're calling him Justin James, and if it's a girl, Justine Willow."

The crowd laughed when Carolyn squealed and ran to hug them both. This time, the applause was accompanied by stunned whispers, mostly from family due to the couple had been adamant that they would not be having children.

"Are _all_ your family gatherings like this?"

"Not really. Sometimes there's excitement, drama, and karaoke." Over the ecstatic babbling, Chase heard the doorbell ring, already knowing who it would be. "Be right back." He and Bucky reached the door at the same time. "Forgot to tell you." Chase opened the door, and standing on the stoop was a tall man dressed as Elvis from his Las Vegas days. "I took the liberty of hiring a singer to entertain."

The man curled his lip in Elvis' patented smile and saluted a greeting with his left hand. "Afternoon, sir."

A young woman stuck her head in from the side. "Hi. I'm the roadie. Where can we set up?"

Bucky stared at Elvis and the girl as they picked up their equipment, and came inside. "Uh, deck. In back." When they were out of earshot, Bucky pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Is that…"

"Yup. He's gonna do a few songs. And for the big finale, he'll take off the disguise. Think Mom will be okay?"

Chase laughed when Bucky got him around the neck, and kissed his cheek. "Your mom will be _fantastic_ , as long as she doesn't find out we've known for a few weeks."

He looked down at the floor as they walked toward the door where they could hear the man and young woman setting up. "I just… If I could have just one wish, Gramps, it would be that none of this happened. That our lives were normal, at least for this family. I don't think that's too much to ask."

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "God has a reason for the things that happen to us. We're supposed to trust Him to get us through. _I_ think we're better than okay. We're all healthy and active, we have decent jobs, and best of all, loving family and friends. What more could you ask for?"

Chase chuckled. "How about those flying cars Howard Stark promised us?"

 **The Cave**

From the corner of her eye, Hill caught Cameron glancing her way every few minutes. The times they spent together, she got the sense that he expected her to keep their relationship secret. They didn't work together, so there was no need to keep it under wraps. Yet she hesitated to say anything to anyone because that wasn't her way. She wasn't one to discuss her private life even with those she counted as friends.

However, she found herself spilling all to Cameron one night while they were lying in bed, cuddling. He now knew more about her than even Fury did. Hill thought that describing her upbringing, how her father had blamed her for her mother's death, and had shown little to no affection had made her feel cold inside, as if her organs, especially her heart, were made of ice would drive Cameron away. It didn't. He held her close, and softly whispered, "I'm sorry."

In the last few weeks, the coldness began to change. Just two days ago, she'd nearly called her father. She'd taken the phone out, and scrolled for his number, thumb poised to dial. In the end, she hadn't made the call.

Cameron pushed away from the table, and left the War Room, almost as if he could read her mind. But that was absurd.

"What's the word on our secret project?"

"It's a done deal." Hill got up to pour them each another cup of coffee. "Romanoff and Barnes are the proud adoptive parents of fraternal twins. Naturally, Romanoff has her suspicions. However, she has decided not to make an issue of it. She and Barnes have what they want, and the kids have a warm, loving home. Win-win, sir."

Fury picked up his cup, took a sip, and set the cup on the coaster provided. "Indeed, Commander."

Hill snickered into her cup, took a long drink, making a face at the taste. "Not a commander anymore, sir. I'm an associate VP in charge of special projects at Stark Industries' D.C. office."

"That's just your cover. Unofficially, you still work for me."

"In a volunteer capacity."

Fury didn't respond, as Cameron had returned. As always, he spoke little while they were working on HYDRA's files. He went back to work, and when Hill caught him covering a yawn, she made her move. She shut down her computer, and stood to stretch. "Let's shut 'er down for the night, Cam, and get the hell out of Dodge."

He blinked in response to her use of his first name in Fury's presence. "Pardon?"

"You 'n me, babe." She picked up her wallet and keys. "I just have to get my overnight bag from the car, and we can go." Cameron's eyes flicked from Hill to Fury and back. She rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice. You can drop me at my car on the way to the office Tuesday morning."

"Um, okay." He closed down the computer, and took out his car keys. At the door, Hill held out her hand, and he took it. "Good night, sir."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Tony's Lab**

 **Labor Day**

 **Noon**

The lab was dark except where the brightness of the computer monitor shown on Tony's face. Late at night is when Tony felt the absence of Pepper most acutely. In Bruce's experience, it was Pepper who kept Tony from working himself into a coma. With her gone, he had no one to tell him to when to shut down, and get some sleep. Bruce had tried on more than a few occasions to fill that gap, but, as always, Tony only listened when it suited him, resulting in frayed nerves on both sides.

Bruce let himself in, slowly approaching the man who was closer than a brother. Tony wore headphones, and was watching a video of Pepper's interview with Larry King last fall. Over the Christmas holiday, they'd encountered a particularly vicious man by the name of Aldrich Killian, going by the handle The Mandarin. It had been Pepper herself who ultimately destroyed Killian who had used Extremis, an advanced form of genetic manipulation, to turn her into a super-soldier.

The video shut down, Tony removed the headphones, and sat up. "Why are you invading my privacy, Bruce?"

"I'm here at Jarvis' request. Seems you've blocked him from the lab."

"He nags more than my father ever did. What does he want this time?"

Bruce pulled a chair over, and sat where he could see Tony's face. "To remind you of an appointment." At his friend's blank expression, Bruce explained, "Tasha's party?"

Tony used his feet to roll back from the desk, and stood. "The barbeque. I should bring something, a hostess or wedding gift."

"You've done enough, Tony. All she wants is your presence." This close, Bruce got a whiff of something unpleasant. "And for God's sake, take a shower and change first."

His friend sniffed himself, and made a face. "Been busy."

"Where's Pepper?"

Tony shot him a look might've killed, had he put any real power behind it. "Singapore for at least another week. You should come to the party. Do us both good to get away." Bruce wavered, and Tony pounced on it. "Jarvis will code a suit for you."

" _Already done, sir_."

As Tony left the room, Bruce realized what he said. "Wait-wait-wait! Suit?"

Tony ignored him, talking to Jarvis as he walked. "While Dr. Banner and I are getting ready, here's what I need you to do…"

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

Everyone looked up as dual red and gold streaks made a flyover, circled around, and came in for a landing in the middle of the yard, down on one knee. They were immediately surrounded by the kids clamoring for Iron Man's attention while eyeing the second suit.

Another whistle from Bucky quieted the noise as the faceplate retracted, and Tony's smiling face peered out. "Hi, kids!"

"Hi, Iron Man!" they chorused.

The front of the suit opened, and Tony stepped out. "Looks like you started the party without us." Curious, the kids babbled among themselves. "I bet you're wondering why there're two suits. Who here likes the Hulk?" There was much shouting and waving of hands in the air. One kid even wore a Hulk t-shirt. "Jarvis!" The second suit opened, and Bruce stumbled out, smiling and nodding awkwardly, uncomfortable with the attention. "Welcome Dr. Banner, kids."

"Hi, Dr. Banner!"

"We have something special planned for after we eat, which hopefully, will be soon." He looked over at Natasha, who nodded. Tony clapped his hands. "As you were, then, kids."

Obediently, the children scattered amid excited babbling to each other and their parents. Natasha, Bucky, and Steve made their way over, and Natasha kissed both men on the cheek. "Thanks for coming, guys."

Before Tony could make something up, Bruce smiled. "I was at a good stopping point in my project, and Tony was wallowing in a pool of self-pity."

"Hardly self-pity." Taken aback, Tony glared at his friend.

Natasha lowered her voice, and her smile went away. "Call it what you will. You're here, and that's what counts."

Steve shook hands with the men. "So where's…" Over Tony's shoulder, Bruce made a slashing motion across his throat. "…Joi?" Steve waved, and Joi came to his side, followed by Bruno and Trixie, who sniffed the Iron Man suits then their occupants. "Joi, these are my friends, Tony Stark, and Dr. Bruce Banner. This is my wife, Joi, and our dogs, Bruno and Trixie."

They shook hands all around, Tony commenting, "Dogs, old man? Could you _be_ any more of a cliché?"

Joi feigned indignation. "How dare you say that about our children." She and Steve shared an amused glance. " _Mom_ is over the moon. Three grandchildren all at once." At Tony and Bruce's confusion, she explained, "My sister and her husband are having a baby."

Tony looked around at the crowded yard, and back to Bucky. "You took the words 'be fruitful, and multiply' to heart, Barnes. And you didn't have enough of the ones from the kit, you went out and got yourself a couple of ready-mades?" Bruce poked Tony in the back in what looked like a prearranged signal. "But enough about you. When do we eat?"

~~O~~

To the twins' relief, Gracie ran off to greet Iron Man and his friend, leaving them alone, at least for a while. Their nephew Chase filled the space. "Welcome to the family, kids. How do you like it so far?"

Wanda tried to smile. "Everyone's been so kind."

Pietro made a small shrug. "After being on our own for so long, it's a little overwhelming to suddenly be part of such a large family."

Chase's smile was sympathetic and wry at the same time. "It can be the same for those of us who've been here the whole time. I can only imagine what that's like." He leaned close, looking around to make sure they were alone, slapping Pietro on the back. "Just grin, and bear it." He winked. "Come with me. I want you to meet Iris. She's the manager for the night club and the computer company I run."

The twins looked over his shoulder at the woman they saw him come in with, smirking because they'd also seen how he treated her. Wanda caught Chase's eye. "You're dating your manager?"

That flustered Chase. He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the floor. " _Now_ , she's the manager. Who knows what'll happen later. But I have high hopes." As they approached, Iris gave them a welcoming smile, showing straight white teeth. "Wanda and Pietro, this is Iris Castillo. Iris, Pietro and Wanda, my new aunt and uncle."

Iris extended her hand to each in turn. "Happy to meet you both." She nodded at the wheelchair. "Excuse me for not standing."

"Nat and Gramps didn't breathe a word of their plans to adopt," Chase told them. "I mean, they talked about it a few times. Well, more than a few times the last couple of years." He had the same smile as Bucky when he was immensely pleased whether with himself or the situation. "I'm glad they finally did it. They truly believe that adopting the two of you is the best decision they've ever made together, even more than eloping. They will never have regrets where the two of you are concerned. I promise. When you join this family, it's for life, come hell or high water."

Wanda felt Pietro's shame through their link, and tears stung her eyes. "Thank you, Chase. Excuse me."

As fast as she could without drawing attention, Wanda went into the house. She needed to be alone for a few minutes, but the downstairs bathroom was occupied, so she went to use the one on the second floor. After splashing cold water on her face, she dried off, hung up the towel, and went across the hall to her room.

She wanted and needed comforting, but the cats weren't there, and her brother was outside with nearly forty strangers. For a moment, she thought about taking a long walk. Before she could put thought into action, someone knocked on the door. Thinking it was Natasha, she went to let her in.

The door flew open, and Wanda was pushed backward. She stumbled, nearly falling as the intruder followed her in, slammed the door, and locked them in together.

~~O~~

As Gracie, Wanda and Pietro walked away, the younger girl talking non-stop, Mia watched, her mind spinning with ideas. Sam saw where she was looking. "What's up? Is your little voice whispering in your ear again?"

"Not whispering, no, but not screaming either. Something's up with those two and I wanna know what it is." His arms went around her waist, holding her close as Chase introduced the twins to his new girlfriend. Then, a few minutes later, Mia's eyes followed Wanda without appearing to do so. The girl went into the house, and Mia patted Sam's arm. "I gotta hit the ladies room, babe."

She didn't wait for Sam's response, if he had one. When she reached the back door, Wanda was already to the top of the stairs. As Mia reached the second floor, she heard the water running in the bathroom, and a moment later, Wanda came out and went into her room.

Mia stopped in front of the door that had once been the cat's room, and knocked. As soon as Wanda turned the knob, Mia pushed her way in, closed the door, and locked it.

"What are you doing?"

"You and me are gonna talk." Mia stood toe to toe with the shorter girl. "Who are you, and what do you want with Gramps and Nat?"

Wanda looked away, and made to go around. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mia quickly blocked the door, anger and more in her voice. "You pushed me, in my mind. I felt it. How, and why?"

Softening her posture, the younger girl looked at the floor. "The how is a long story that I will _not_ go into with you. As for why, James told us that some in his- _our_ family would not be immediately accepting of my brother and I." She moved to the middle of the room, and brought her hands from behind her back, showing the right one to be covered in a delicate red mist. "It wasn't meant to control them. We just want to be accepted. Pietro and I have only had each other since the day our parents died. We need somewhere to belong, to be part of a family again. The moment we saw their picture, we knew they were the ones." When Wanda turned around, the red mist was gone, and there were tears in her eyes, as well as desperation. "James and Natasha have been so good to us these few days, I-I couldn't bear it if we had to leave."

"I take it they don't know about the," Mia wiggled her fingers in imitation of Wanda, "whatever that is." Wanda shook her head, and wouldn't meet Mia's eyes. "If you have a power, does that mean Pietro has one too?"

Again, Wanda nodded. "His is not the same." At the anguished look in the girl's eyes, Mia nearly felt sorry for her. Nearly, but not quite. "Are you going to tell our parents?"

Pacing with her arms crossed, Mia considered doing just that, and decided against ratting the twins out. She stopped moving, and poked a finger at Wanda without touching her. "Won't say anything, but so help me, if I _ever_ catch you using your Jedi mind tricks on a member of the family again…" Mia cupped her right hand, creating a ball of electricity. Not a big one, but enough to make her point. She threw the ball at a box sitting in the corner. It blew up, spraying bits of cardboard and fabric all over the room. Turning on her heel, Mia unlocked and opened the door, tossing over her shoulder, "You should clean that up before Nat and Gramps see it."

 **TBC**


	78. Chapter 78

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 78**

The moment the door closed behind Mia, all semblance of fear vanished. Wanda held her hands up, waving them in circles. The red mist grew to encompass the entire room, and a breeze sprang up, spinning like a whirlpool, affecting only the bits of cardboard and fabric that had been a box filled with old clothes. The whirlpool shrank in upon itself, and the debris landed in the trash can next to the vanity.

Wanda pulled the bag out, tied the top, carried it downstairs, and out to the trash bin by the garage. She went inside to the downstairs bathroom to wash her hands, and returned to the party in time for the entertainment to start.

Chase stood at the edge of the deck. "Your attention, please. Because this is a _super_ special occasion, I took it upon myself to arrange a little treat for us. Ladies, gentlemen, and others," he gestured to the stranger, "Elvis is in the house."

The man in the sequined jumpsuit held the edges of his short cape fanned out as he stepped up to the mic. "Thank you. Thank you very much. I'm gonna do a few of my personal favorites. Then while we're takin' a break, my lovely assistant, Millie," he winked at the girl standing near the sound equipment, and she gave him a cheeky grin, "will take requests."

The girl rolled her eyes, and went back to work.

"Now, if you know the words, or the song has a special meaning for you, feel free to sing along." He tuned the guitar, and hit the song running.

 _Well, since my baby left me  
Well, I found a new place to dwell  
Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street  
At Heartbreak Hotel  
Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby  
Well, I'm so lonely  
I'll be so lonely, I could die_

 _Although it's always crowded  
You still can find some…_

His assistant tapped him on the shoulder. "What? I'm singin' here." He leaned down so she could whisper in his ear, and nodded. "Let's try somethin' else."

 _Return to sender, return to sender_

 _I gave a letter to the postman, he put it his sack  
Bright in early next morning, he brought my letter back_

 _She wrote upon it_

 _Return to sender, address un…_

Again, the assistant stopped him. "Now what?" This time, he didn't offer an explanation to his audience. He just went into the next song. Unfortunately, he'd only gotten as far as playing the introduction when the girl stood in front of him with her arms crossed, shaking her head. They whispered again, and the man nodded understanding. "Well, don't that beat all? I thought this party was to celebrate a divorce, but Millie here tells me it's a weddin' reception." He sighed dramatically, hands out to the side. "There goes my entire playlist." He strummed, and looked at the sky for inspiration. "Okay. I got it. Millie?"

The girl went back to her sound equipment, and nodded to let him know she was ready.

"Let's get the happy couples up here on the deck for a dance." He waited until Bucky and Natasha, and Steve and Joi had come forward. "This one's for you." His eyes roamed over the crowd until he located Serenity and Collin, surprising the crowd by signing while he spoke. "Let's bring the new mom and dad-to-be up here too."

Once the three couples were on the deck, the music started, and Wanda heard a heavier drum beat that would make dancing easier for the hearing-impaired couple. Off to the side, Martin signed the lyrics for their benefit, and the singer did as well, instead of playing the guitar.

 _When no one else can understand me_ _  
_ _When everything I do is wrong_ _  
_ _You give me hope and consolation_ _  
_ _You give me strength to carry on_ _  
_ _And you're always there to lend a hand_

 _In everything I do_

 _That's the wonder_ _  
_ _The wonder of you_

As the couples danced, Wanda felt such a surge of love flowing through the air that she couldn't help tearing up. Suddenly, Chase was at her side, holding out a box of tissues. She took two, and after a moment, he put his arm around her.

 _And when you smile the world is brighter_ _  
_ _You touch my hand and I'm a king_ _  
_ _Your kiss to me is worth a fortune_ _  
_ _Your love for me is everything_ _  
_ _I'll guess I'll never know the reason why_ _  
_ _You love me as you do_

 _That's the wonder_ _  
_ _The wonder of you_

There was a long round of applause, and in that space, Wanda felt something familiar, almost, but not quite the same as when Chase's mind sometimes leaked through her mental defenses. It felt close, but she couldn't pinpoint the location. Then, another intruded, more urgent than the other. Without turning around, she whispered, "Chase, Iris needs you."

~~O~~

Chase looked around, and found Iris getting into her wheelchair. "Excuse me," he said to Wanda, and hurried to Iris' aid. "Let me help."

He pushed her behind the tables to the back door, turned her around and eased the chair up the single step into the house. "Bathroom's down that hall on the right. I can get Mom, Wanda, or one of my girly cousins to help, if you need it."

She smiled at his minor fluster. "I'll be okay. Don't go too far though, just in case."

"You sure? The door's kind of narrow, and the room's small. Won't be able to get the chair in." He walked behind her as she rolled down the hall.

"Like I said, stay close." She locked the wheels, folded the foot rests out of the way, and stood. Holding tight to the door and the jamb, she made her way into the bathroom and shut the door.

Embarrassed at being outside while she was in there, Chase went to look for a woman to assist. The music stopped, and the couples moved off the dance floor to their tables. Wanda was at the buffet looking over the offerings, peering at some dishes with mild misgiving. Chase sidled up to her, using an overplayed wheedling tone, "Auntie Wanda, would you do me a ginormous favor?"

Wanda smiled at his use of the honorific. "What is it?"

"Iris is in the ladies room…"

She held up her hand. "Say no more. I will check on her for you."

~~O~~

Her nephew moved away, and Wanda went inside. Without Chase and the other one close, whoever he was, Wanda could sense more of Iris' emotions. The woman put up a brave front, but deep inside, she longed for the days when she didn't need others to help her perform normal everyday things like bathing, cooking, dressing, and housework.

Delving deeper without touching anything too personal, Wanda saw that Iris had once been quite athletic. She was a former Olympic gold medalist in swimming and diving, had taught both at the local rec centers, ran, biked, hiked. In short, anything physical, she was up to at least try it. At the time of her accident, Iris had been training for a triathlon. On her way home from a practice ride with fellow bikers, a drunk driver t-boned her car, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Through hard work, she now had some feeling and movement.

Angry on Iris' behalf, Wanda sought to do something to help, but what?

Standing outside the bathroom door, Wanda made sure that they were alone then concentrated on the site of the injury. A blood-red tendril of psionic mist flowed from her fingertips, and under the door, where it split in half, traveling up both legs to the damaged area of her spinal cord. It wrapped around, and was absorbed into the nerves and bones. She wasn't sure it would work. If not, then Iris was no worse off than she was before.

The toilet flushed, and the rustle of clothing told her that Iris was nearly done. The water came on, and went off.

A yelp and a thump alarmed Wanda. She knocked on the door. "Iris, it's Wanda. Are you okay?"

Iris grumbled, "I'm fine. Lost my balance, and can't get up. Dammit. This is why my brother wanted me to have a nurse."

"I'm coming in." She turned the knob. "Can you unlock the door?"

More grunting and grumbling. "Can't reach it. Is there a key?"

"Let me check." Once again, Wanda cast a glance around, relieved that she was alone. She pointed a finger at the lock, and heard a click. She turned the knob, and slowly opened the door until it came up against Iris' legs. Mentally crossing her fingers, Wanda used her powers to move Iris just enough to be able to slip inside the room. She closed the door, and knelt beside the woman, again using her powers to check for broken bones. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't think so. Just need a hand up."

Wanda helped Iris sit up, sensing she was more embarrassed than hurt. She got behind her, hooked her arms under Iris' shoulders, and once more used her powers to lift the smaller woman, holding tight until she was steady. "I will help you to the chair."

Iris opened the door with one hand while rubbing her left hip with the other. "I'll have a bruise tomorrow."

They maneuvered around in the small space until they were in the hall, where they found that someone had moved the chair. With a glance, Wanda brought the chair to them, and helped Iris into it. She crouched in front to put down the foot rests, and lift the woman's feet onto them. "Would you like Chase to take you home? I could go along and assist with whatever you need."

"Might take you up on it. My brother's out of town for a couple days. If you have pain pills, that would be good," Iris told her with a wry twist to her lips. "Guess I'll leave the alcohol alone from now on."

Going into the bathroom, Wanda saw what made Iris fall: the thick mat on the floor. She picked it up, and shoved it under the sink. Then she opened the cabinets until she found ibuprofen. She filled a paper cup with water, and carried both out to Iris. The woman took two with the water, and gave Wanda a smile of thanks. "Don't tell Chase about this."

"I won't." Getting behind the wheelchair, Wanda released the brakes, and pushed Iris through the living room to the back door. Elvis and his assistant Millie were sitting at the piano, talking softly. As Wanda passed them by, she picked up the strange mental vibration from earlier. The one that reminded her of Chase. Pretending to ignore the couple who were now kissing, Wanda sent a soft ping. What she got back was more than expected. Now the question was should she tell someone, or keep it to herself? It was likely that Chase knew who he was, as it had been his idea, and Wanda was certain that Natasha and James knew as well.

The woman giggled and pushed the man away when he kissed her on the neck. He picked up the bag at his feet, and went into the bathroom.

Putting them out of her mind for now, Wanda let the wheelchair onto the deck. Chase saw them, and rushed over. "You should've called me."

"Don't worry, _nephew_ ," Wanda told him with a grin. On impulse, she got him around the neck, bent him forward, and gave him noogies, "Auntie Wanda, had it all under control."

~~O~~

At the attack from an unexpected source, Chase yelped loud enough to attract attention. He ignored the stares, and worked himself loose. Laughing, Wanda backed up while he rubbed the top of his head. She wanted to be part of the family. With a wink and a grin, he pointed at her, barely able to speak for laughing himself. "Oh, you are going _down_ , Auntie. _Down_!"

She saw the intent in his eyes, shrieked, and took off running with Chase right behind her. He could've easily caught her, but this wasn't about winning. This was to show that she and her brother were family, and would be treated as such.

He chased her around the yard with the guests taking sides, mostly Wanda's. Bucky and Natasha were standing near the table occupied by Chase's mom and dad, and they too were laughing.

Making it look good, Chase put on a little extra speed just to scare her, and she did exactly as most kids would've done: she swerved out of the way at the last second, and ran to hide behind her father, holding onto Bucky's arms as she peeked out one side then the other. Chase moved side to side, pretending he couldn't get to her.

Then, his mother slapped him on the backside. "Chase Garrett, stop it this instant. Honestly, you're almost thirty years old and still acting like a teenager."

Still laughing, he dropped down next to Carolyn while keeping Wanda in sight. "Just welcoming Wanda to the family, Mom." He snitched a deviled egg from her plate, talking while eating. "Pietro's next."

The boy came up to the table, giving Chase a warning look that lost power due to the humorous twinkle in his eyes. He crossed his arms, and brought his chin up defiantly. "You are _not_ giving me the noogies, and chasing me will do you no good. I am too fast."

Chase wiped his mouth, and stood tall with his shoulders back. "Doubt it, _uncle_. I could beat you in a foot race without even breathing hard."

A smirk that was the male version of Wanda's spread over his features making the older folks laugh. "You can _try_ , old man."

Before the situation could escalate, they heard music coming from the house. Someone was playing the piano. The guests crowded through the door, and those who couldn't get in watched from the windows that had been opened to let in the breeze. The man who'd been dressed as Elvis now wore a wild blonde wig, sunglasses, black pants, and a zebra-striped jacket. All five cats were on the shelves where they could look into the house, watching him play, and sing just to them. Or so they thought to go by the song, changing the lyrics just a little for Ryder.

 _Black and white stray cat sittin' on a fence  
I ain't got enough dough to pay the rent  
I'm flat broke but I don't care  
I strut right by with my tail in the air_

 _Stray cat strut, I'm a ladies cat  
I'm a feline Casanova, hey man that's that  
Get a shoe thrown at me from a mean old man  
Get my dinner from a garbage can_

 _Don't go crossing my path_

 _I don't bother chasing mice around  
I slink down the alleyway looking for a fight  
Howling to the moonlight on a hot summer night  
Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry  
"Wow, stray cat, you're a real gone guy."  
I wish I could be as carefree and wild  
But I got cat class and I got cat style_

~~O~~

Natasha leaned against Bucky's side, and he put an arm around her shoulders. "Chase's unconditional acceptance of the twins seems to have snowballed. Even Carolyn is warming up to them."

"Gracie helped. Not many can resist the munchkin's charm."

"I agree." She sniffed, and willed the tears not to fall. "I love our children, James, and can't wait for my best friend to meet them."

A strong presence moved into Natasha's personal space. "Elvis has morphed into Brian Setzer, I see. Can he do Guns 'N Roses or AC/DC?"

On Tony's other side, Bruce stood with his arms crossed, nodding in time to the music. "You made a request, Tony. Give him time."

"Right. And _your_ request will put everyone to sleep." Tony popped a strawberry in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Let me guess. The Other Guy's favorite, _Casta Diva_ , or something even more boring like _Moonlight Sonata_."

Using her elbow to make a point, Natasha poked Tony. "Knock it off, Stark."

~~O~~

From the corner of his eye, Justin watched his mom and dad take seats on the sofa. He'd wanted to go to them the moment he arrived, but also wanted to hold off a while, let them relax a bit before blowing up their world. They were going to be upset with Natasha, Bucky and Chase for knowing he was alive, and not saying anything. Might as well let the harmony continue a little longer.

Justin had always been able to do impressions, speaking or singing, and today, he'd pulled out a few he hadn't done in a while. Elvis, Brian Setzer, and next up, Jerry Lee Lewis. He vamped as he introduced the next song. "This request comes from our esteemed Dr. Banner."

 _You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain  
Too much love drives a man insane  
You broke my will, but what a thrill  
Goodness gracious great balls of fire_

 _I laughed at love 'cause I thought it was funny  
You came along and you moved me honey  
I changed my mind, this love is fine  
Goodness gracious great balls of fire_

 _Kiss me baby, woo, it feels good  
Hold me baby, I want to love you like a lover should  
You're fine, so kind  
I'm gonna tell this world that your mine mine mine mine_

 _I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs  
I'm nervous but it sure is fun  
Come on baby, you drive me crazy  
Goodness gracious great balls of fire_

Justin performed a few more requests then put on dark sunglasses, and played the harmonica for the fake blues song called _I Can't Stop My Leg_ , by comedian Robert Klein, netting him big laughs for his performance.

He was about to take a break when lightning flashed across the sky. Natasha, Tony and Bruce ran out the back door ahead of the others, stopping at the edge of the deck as a man with long blond hair landed in the yard near the gazebo. But that wasn't the only strange thing about him. The big man had one arm around a slender Asian woman, and held an ancient-looking hammer in the other.

 _You really need to get going on the big reveal, Just_ , Chase signed where no one could see.

Justin gave his other half an exasperated huff. _Was about to, but a god got in my way, Chazzie. Who's that with him?_ He leered. _Mmm. She looks good enough to eat._

Chase slapped Justin with the back of his hand as a reprimand. _Goober. You already have a girl_. He took hold of his brother, dragging him through the crowd. _Doesn't mean we can't window shop_.

Not bothering to pull free, which he could've done with ease, Justin signed, _Troglodyte_.

~~O~~

Standing next to Natasha, Bucky whispered, "Thor?"

"Yep." As the hostess, and friend to their new guests, Natasha stepped forward. "Glad you could make it." She nodded at Helen, and turned to face the crowd. "Everyone, this is Thor, and his girlfriend, Dr. Helen Cho."

As soon as they could do so politely, the Avengers separated themselves from the others by taking over the gazebo. Thor was devouring a huge plate of food while Helen spoke with Bruce and Tony.

"…What I really need is a pair or two of fresh eyes to look over the regeneration cradle's coding data. Maybe one of you can find what we're missing, and why the subject… I mean Arik, is experiencing such a rapid growth of tumor-like nodules all over his body, especially in his brain." She sipped from a glass of iced tea. "He will die soon, and we need to know why, or the cradle is useless, and I've wasted most of my adult life creating it."

Bruce's concern was palpable. "How soon?"

Helen looked down at her glass. "Days, at most. I would appreciate if you were with me during the autopsy, and to go over the lab results."

"I'll be there." Bruce looked over at Tony who appeared to be lost in another world. "Tony?" His friend didn't respond. Just stood there staring at his feet.

Touching him on the arm, Natasha gave it a squeeze. "You okay?"

He drank the rest of the tumbler of whiskey, and turned away. "I'll be there. Just don't expect me to scrub in. Excuse me."

Tony jumped down the steps, walked around the group half-heartedly playing volleyball, and went into the house. Natasha left Helen and Bruce to talk over the details of the surgeries and tests they would perform before and after Arik's death, and followed Tony.

She found him in the den, sprawled on the sofa in the corner, the tumbler of whiskey resting on his chest. Every few seconds, he would take a sip, and returned it to the spot where he'd had the arc reactor removed six months before.

He reached for the bottle on the floor next to the sofa, refilled the glass, and drank half of it down. "Your spouse has decent taste in single malt, Romanoff. Might have to get myself some."

Natasha squeezed herself onto the end near his feet, forcing him to sit up. "I'm worried about you, Tony. You haven't been yourself since the surgery." More of the whiskey went down his throat. Tony's free hand picked up the bottle, and Natasha took it from him before he could refill. "Keep this up, and your liver will explode. Don't want my kids to see that, so I'll have to ask you to leave."

The face he made was one of pain and sorrow. He set the glass on the desk, and planted his elbows on his thighs, rubbing one hand through his hair. "You're not a psychologist, Nat. You don't even play one on television. But I really need to get something off my chest." He touched the surgical scar, and shrugged. "No pun intended."

She stayed quiet, and the only movement she made was to hold his hand.

"The Mandarin took more from me than you can ever imagine."

"Do you really miss the house in Malibu that much?"

He jumped up, and paced over to the cat tree, tracing the edge of the upper tier with one finger. "The, uh, house was just a _thing_ , a possession. What he took was worth so much more than that."

~~O~~

While the rest were watching Thor and his doctor girlfriend or playing a game, Chase subtly urged Justin into the house, and out to the front lawn. "It's time, big brother. You gotta do it."

"Yeah. I know. I'm excited, and scared at the same time." Justin took off the wig, and held up his left hand now covered with synthetic flesh courtesy of Tony Stark. "This makes it easier, but still…"

"Don't think about it. Just _do_ it. March up to her and say, 'Hi, Mom. I'm home'." Still, Justin hesitated. "Nat, Gramps, and I'll be there with you, and so will Rey."

Justin ran a hand through his hair, replaced the wig, adjusted the sunglasses, tugged the cuffs of his shirt into place, and nodded. "I'm ready."

"Oh, for God's sake, Justin, take off that wig. You look ridiculous." The brothers slowly turned at the sound of the familiar voice of their mother. She was standing on the front steps with her arms crossed.

 **TBC**

 _Heartbreak Hotel_ is a song recorded by American singer Elvis Presley. It was released as a single on January 27, 1956, Presley's first on his new record label RCA Victor. It was written by Tommy Durden, Mae Boren Axton, and Elvis Presley.

 _Return to Sender_ is a 1962 hit single recorded by American singer Elvis Presley and published by Elvis Presley Music. It was written by Winfield Scott and Otis Blackwell.

 _The Wonder of You_ is a song written by Baker Knight. Elvis Presley recorded a live version in Las Vegas, Nevada in February 1970.

 _Stray Cat Strut_ is the eighth track on the Stray Cats' debut album, _Stray Cats_ , released in 1982, and was written by Brian Setzer.

 _Great Balls of Fire_ is a 1957 popular song recorded by Jerry Lee Lewis, and was written by Otis Blackwell and Jack Hammer.

 _I Can't Stop My Leg_ is a comedic blues song written by comedian Robert Klein, Howard Shore, and Paul Shaffer, and was performed by Robert Klein.


	79. Chapter 79

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 79**

The brothers looked at Mom, at each other and back as she walked through the grass. She smiled and reached out to touch Justin on the cheek, as if she thought he was a figment of her imagination. "I've missed you, honey."

Then, Carolyn gathered Justin into a tight hug, and after a moment, he hugged her back. It was good to be in his mother's arms again, to feel safe, and to pretend, just for a moment, that nothing bad had ever happened. "I've missed you too, Mom."

They leaned back so they could see each other's faces, and Carolyn heaved a sigh of relief while keeping her hands on his shoulders. "It's about time you stopped hiding in the bushes, and came home."

Justin didn't even look at his brother. Chase asked, "You knew?"

She nodded. "From the beginning."

Dumbfounded, Justin retrieved his hand and paced away, and turned to face her again. "Why didn't you _say_ something?"

Stepping back and clasping her hands together in front of her, Carolyn made a small shrug. "Whatever the reason you left, and what happened while you were gone, it had to have been bad for you to let everyone think you were dead. Your dad and I figured you'd come home when you were ready."

" _Dad_ knows too?" the brothers chorused.

"Why of course he does, honey. I would never hide something this important from your father." Taking his hand again, Carolyn drew Justin toward the house, and Chase automatically followed. "Now go back inside, sing us a few more songs, and let's put the past where it belongs."

With that parting advice, the boys' mother went into the house, and softly closed the front door.

Justin put the wig back on, straightened his jacket again, and followed his mother with Chase right behind him. Keeping his voice low, Chase asked, "How you gonna do it? Can't just blurt it out."

"Not sure. I'll think of something. Hopefully."

~~O~~

The moment Joi saw "Elvis" she knew it was Justin, and that he was finally ready. And from the look on Mom's face, _she_ knew as well. Joi was excited to have her brother back, naturally. That meant her life was coming together nicely. Maybe not exactly the way she'd planned when she was a teenager, but being married to Captain America, well, that was just icing on the cake, as they say. They still had to find a house, have kids, and the whole American dream thing.

Her phone vibrated against her backside. Thinking it was Laz or Bella, she pulled it out. The number was familiar. Just not the producers of the show. She handed Bruno's leash to Steve, shaking the phone to let him know she was on a call.

Ten minutes later, she rejoined Steve and the dogs. He smiled down at her. "Everything okay, babe?"

With an effort, Joi put on a smile. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." The back door opened and the Elvis impersonator and Chase came out together. "Looks like his break's over."

They found seats at the same table with her mom and dad, and while the singer was setting up, Joi held Steve's hand. "You know I love you, no matter what, right?"

His forehead crinkled in confusion. "What's this about?"

"Can't a woman tell her husband she loves him?"

"Sure. It's just the way you said it, as if something was wrong."

Forcing a smile, Joi squeezed his hand tighter. "It's no big deal. We can talk about it later." She laid a finger over her lips. "Sh!"

~~O~~

Taking his place behind the mic, Justin sang a few more songs of his own choosing before returning to the piano. "This next song is dedicated to the older folks out there." He winked. "You know who you are."

 _Oh, I still get a thrill thinking of you_ _  
_ _And I still feel your lips kissing me too_ _  
_ _Although our love affair wasn't to be_ _  
_ _I wonder if you care, care about me_

 _I still remember that night under the moon_ _  
_ _I recall that it all ended too soon_ _  
_ _I can't believe you're gone memories linger on_ _  
_ _And I still get a thrill thinking of you_

Iris looked up and smiled as Chase took the seat next to her. The tune was catchy, simple, easy to remember. Across the way, Chase's grandfather and Steve were swaying in time to the music in a way that told her they remembered it from their youth.

The sun was setting, and the air had cooled somewhat. Chase had given her a jacket to wear that was way too big. She was about to ask him to take her inside when she felt an odd sort of warmth in her back that slowly spread throughout her lower abdomen and down her legs.

 _I can't forget, I still remember that night under the moon_ _  
_ _I recall that it all ended too soon_ _  
_ _I can't believe you're gone memories linger on_ _  
_

In fact, Iris was a little _too_ warm. She took off the jacket, hung it over the arm of the wheelchair. A napkin lay in an empty chair, and Iris used it to fan her face. Then, the odd feeling changed, and was now centered in a specific area that hadn't shown this much life since well before her accident.

Crossing her knees, she attempted to will the tingling and throbbing away, but it did no good. Her hand clenched, and she was surprised to realize that she was holding Chase's hand. Though, when their eyes met, he gave her a sweet smile and a small squeeze back without pulling away.

 _And I still get a thrill thinking of you_

 _Still get a thrill thinking of you_ _  
_ _I still get a thrill thinking of you_

With her free hand, Iris tugged on the neckline of her shirt, fanning the air to get some relief. It didn't help. Leaning close to Chase seemed to make it worse because now she could smell him. "Would you get me something cold to drink, please?"

"Sure. What's your pleasure?"

Iris opened her mouth to make an off-color remark, and snapped it shut again. With a forced smile, she said, "Anything alcoholic."

He was back in seconds with two bottles of beer. She drank hers down without stopping, and just as Chase was about to take a drink, she took his bottle, and downed that as well. "Sorry. I'm just _really_ thirsty."

"I see." Chase left and came back again, this time with water.

With an effort, Iris forced herself to drink slowly. She crossed her legs the other way, even tried thinking of icebergs, running in the snow, going into the polar plunge at the gym, but nothing helped ease this new/old feeling. And finally, she admitted the truth. For the first time in years, she was feeling frisky, horny, hot to trot, boy crazy, all sexed up. Call it anything you want. Being aroused so suddenly, and with such force after years of feeling nothing was disconcerting, to say the least.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Chase to take her home when the singer came out to the deck followed by those who'd gone inside to listen. He and his assistant went to their places, and waited for everyone to find a seat. Drumming her fingers on her thigh, Iris wondered how much longer she could last. When she got home, she planned on taking a long hot bath to wash away these feelings. Until then, she'd have to grin and bear it.

After the spurious Elvis removed his costume, and she saw who it was, Iris felt better about staying, though physically, nothing had changed.

~~O~~

Taking a deep breath, Justin stepped up to the mic. "Is everyone having a good time?" The crowd whistled and clapped. "Fantastic! Sorry to rain on your parade, but I have a confession to make."

All conversation came to a stop, and Justin nearly backed out of doing this in front of so many people. But the look on his mother's and father's faces gave him the confidence to go on.

"Several confessions. First, I'm not really Elvis." The laughter made him smile, further bolstering his spirits. "Second and third, also not Brian Setzer _or_ Jerry Lee Lewis." He unbuttoned the jacket, took it off, and passed it to Rey. She gave him a smile and a nod as he took off the sunglasses and set them on the table. "You see, my family and friends were told that I died more than two years ago." A collective gasp went through those who didn't already know the truth. He took off the wig, tossed it to Rey, brushed his hair loose, and grinned. "But I'm here to tell you I'm not dead." He bowed. "Justin P. Lockwood, at your service. Look out world. I'm ba-a-ck!"

~~O~~

Those family members who hadn't known Justin was alive flocked around him, hugging, and asking a dozen questions at once. He begged off a detailed explanation, saying it would take too long to tell it tonight, and most accepted. Gracie was the lone holdout.

"Look at _you_ , munchkin." He touched her cheeks. "You're so tall, and so beautiful!"

Gracie lifted her arms, and Justin picked her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him like a baby monkey, and refused to let go. She'd been dry-eyed until that moment. Then she came the waterworks. "E-everybody said you were d-dead! W-why did you go a-away, Justin?"

He carried her out to the gazebo, and sat in the swing with her on his lap. "It's a secret. But if you promise not to tell _anyone_ , not even your mom, I'll tell you the story just how it happened."

Gracie lifted her head from his shoulder, and he gave her a couple of napkins to blow her nose. "I promise! Not even my BFF, Eyona."

Holding up his hand with the last finger extended, he said, "Pinky swear?"

The girl hooked her little finger around his. "Pinky swear."

Cuddling her close, and deepening his voice, Justin began his story with, "It was a dark and stormy night…"

Gracie giggled. "No, it wasn't."

"You're right. But 'It was sunny and warm that day' doesn't sound as creepy. Now hush." Brushing his fingers over her hair, he went on with the story. "People don't think six-headed dragons exist, that they're not real. Well, I'm telling you they are. Know how know? Because I fought them every day while I was gone. One even bit my arm off, but the doctors gave me a new one…"

~~O~~

The furor of Justin's return from the grave died down, the sun had set, and most of the neighbors and all but die-hard family had gone home. Chase sat beside Iris smiling at the memory of Justin, Serenity and Collin greeting each other. Their sister had taken Justin's hand, and pressed it over her abdomen. The baby couldn't be felt moving yet, and Chase almost cried at the look on his brother's face. Finding out he was alive didn't change a thing. The couple was adamant that their child would be named after him.

Chase saw his brother coming from the gazebo carrying Gracie, who'd fallen asleep while they were talking. Justin took Gracie inside with her mother in tow, and laid her on the sofa.

When he came out again, he held Rey's hand, and drew her over to their parents. If he wanted to, Chase could hear what they were saying, though he already had an idea.

He was startled when a small hand caressed his thigh starting at the knee, and moving upward with obvious intent. Pressing a hand over Iris', he turned a puzzled gaze on her. A flirtatious smile greeted him as she leaned close to whisper in his ear. Chase had seldom been caught off-guard by a woman, or any of the suggestions they made. This time was different.

Iris leaned back so she could see his face. "So, what d'you say?"

"Iris…"

She pulled her hand free in order encourage his agreement, and his reaction was immediate. Chase abruptly stood, moving out of reach. His first instinct was to say no. They hadn't known each other that long, and this was only their first real date. But the smoldering look in her eyes changed his mind. "I'll be right back."

Natasha nudged Bucky when she saw him coming. "Is Iris having a good time?"

"Yeah, but she's ready to go home, Gramps, so we're gonna leave."

Bucky walked over to Iris with Chase, extending his hand. "Thanks for coming."

Her smile seemed a little off to Chase, but given what she said to him, it wasn't that surprising.

"Thank _you_ for inviting me. You have a wonderful family, James. Congratulations again on your marriage, and adopting the kids. Wanda is a sweetheart."

Bucky glowed with pride. "Yes, she is. Takes after her mother." He winked, and grinned. "Please join us again, Iris."

Where Bucky couldn't see, at least Chase hoped not, Iris gave his backside a squeeze. When he'd gone, Chase pushed the wheelchair across the deck, lifted it up the step, and rolled it across the living room to the front door. "Wait here while I take your stuff to the car…"

Sam appeared out of the kitchen where he'd been helping to put the food away. "Need a hand, guys? I'll carry the girl this time." He said it tongue in cheek, and that's how they took it.

"Thanks for the offer, but it's not necessary. There's room in the driveway now."

Mia came out of the bathroom and sauntered over to cozy up to Sam. "It was great meeting you, Iris. Please don't judge the family by what went on here tonight. There's not usually this much drama." The women shook hands, turning a glare on Chase when he snorted.

"I had fun. It's just me and Andre since our parents passed, and I miss going to family gatherings."

Carolyn and Martin joined them, and Chase resisted grinding his teeth as his parents further delayed their departure. To keep from screaming, he zoned them out until his mother kissed him on the cheek. "Drive safely, honey."

"I will, Mom. Bye, Dad." He endured a dug from his father, and finally, he and Iris were free. Once she was buckled into the passenger seat, he aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "We didn't get your bowls, and leftovers."

"Don't care, Chase. Just get in, and drive!" When Chase hesitated, Iris grabbed his head and kissed him. Both were breathing hard when they parted.

Chase cleared his throat, muttering under his breath as he went around the front of the car, "Right. Drive. I can do that, as long as she keeps her hands to herself. Easy-peasy, mac-n-cheesy."

They weren't on the road long when Chase felt a tickle on back of his neck, and almost hit the curb. He grabbed Iris' hand, and held it. "Don't."

"You don't like it?" Her voice had taken on a throaty quality he'd never heard from her before, as if she were about to eat something decadent.

"No. Uh, yes. I just… I can't concentrate when you do that." At the light, he looked to the side, and she was looking back. Her brown eyes had gone dark, and her smile dreamy. "Iris, I gotta ask. What's gotten into you?"

That shook her out of the preoccupied state, at least enough to convince Chase that the calm, practical Iris was still in there. "To tell you the truth, I-I have no idea." She threw up her hands in a helpless gesture. "In the months before my accident, Oscar lost all interest in being intimate, and so did I, but for different reasons. He was obsessed with making the team the next season, and I just… I no longer found him attractive in any way. Not as a sexual partner, not as a non-sexual companion-for-life, and not as a friend.

"We hadn't been together for months prior to my accident. And God knows I had no desire to be with anyone during my lengthy rehabilitation. Not that I would've felt it. But tonight, I was sitting there, and suddenly…"

"I get it." He got on the freeway. "You don't know why it's happening?" Iris shook her head. "Are you sure you want to…"

Iris snorted a laugh. "Oh, yeah! But then, I knew the day we kissed."

Chase chuckled. "Yeah. Me too. But with you, there are special considerations that don't come with most other women." The humor faded a little. "Um, yikes, how do I say this without being crass?"

She saw where his train of thought was going, which was good. "How much feeling do I have… there? The normal amount, I imagine, though it took a _long_ time. And to address another concern, a few days after the surgery to repair my broken vertebrae, the doctors discovered I had a ruptured uterus. Repairing it was impossible, so they took it out. I'm not saying this to ease your mind about the possibility of pregnancy. It's just information. No uterus means no cycle. No cycle means no kids, so, let's do the math. Nothing, add the nothing, carry the nothing, and that equals… nothing."

"What about…"

"I'm clean. What about you?"

He slowed down to get off the highway, signaling for a turn at the light. "If I said yes, you'd trust me? Just like that? We hardly know each other, Iris."

"Yes, I trust you." Again, she took his hand, just holding it. "Because I haven't been intimate with anyone in so long, we should probably go slow. Take our time."

He parked in the driveway next to Iris' car, turned off the engine, and went around to open her door. She swung her legs out, and pushed to her feet. "Whoa! Let me get your chair."

She stopped him by grabbing hold of his shirt sleeves. "It can wait."

Before the last word was out of her mouth, Chase kissed her. Only this time, it was nothing at all like their first kiss or the one before they left Gramps'. There was hunger and fire and want. Hers added fuel to his, and reflected it back, building the flames higher.

Chase pulled away, and swung her into his arms. At the front door, Iris fumbled the key, and he tried to help, making matters worse. Finally, they were in, and the door was locked. "Bedroom."

"End of the hall." Her voice was breathless with want and need, and he felt the same.

Dakota was there, getting in the way, but Chase ignored him as he opened the door to her room, went in, and kicked it shut. The only light came from the nightlight in the bathroom. Didn't matter. He knew where he was going. Instinct drew him until his knees hit the side of the bed, bringing him partially to his senses.

Then Iris reached between them to unbutton his shirt, as he lay her on the bed, and joined her.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

"Mom, Dad, this is Rey."

More than a little nervous at meeting Justin's parents, Rey smiled, and extended her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood."

Thankfully, his mother greeted her warmly. "So good to finally meet you, Rey. My son doesn't often bring his friends around to meet the family."

His father gripped her hand lightly. "Not since high school."

Justin pulled her close to his side with an arm around her waist. "Rey isn't just a friend, Mom. We're getting married."

Rey's mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened until everything went out of focus. She closed her mouth, blinked, and cleared her throat. "Wh-what?"

He looked down at her, puzzled. "You don't want to?"

"It's, uh, It's… kind of…"

"…sudden, don't you think?" Carolyn had the same look on her face that Rey imagined was on hers. "You've only just come home, Justin. Give yourself some time to settle in before you make any life-altering decisions."

Her words reflected what Rey was feeling at that moment. She loved Justin, but wasn't ready to make that sort of commitment. "Right."

Shaking his head, Justin sat down next to Carolyn, and pulled Rey onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Life is too short to take things slow. I love Rey, and she loves me. We're already living together…"

Rey rushed to reassure Carolyn. "It's not what you think, Mrs. Lockwood. We…"

Justin, damn him, interrupted. "Oh, it's _exactly_ what you think, Mom. I've been staying with Rey for a couple of weeks. In that time, I realized that I want to be with her forever, starting right now." He waved Joi over. "Sis, tell Mom why you and Steve eloped."

Joi twisted the rings on her left hand. "The wedding had already been postponed twice. After all of that wasted time, breaking up, and getting back together, we didn't want to wait any longer." Steve came to put his arm around her shoulders. "We wanted forever to start right away. I know you feel cheated out of the grand wedding you always wanted for me, but that was your dream, Mom, not mine."

Gramps wandered up, and joined the conversation. "That was our motivation too." He slid into the seat next to Carolyn, and held her hand. "I love Natasha. But that doesn't mean I didn't love your mother."

Natasha, Wanda and Pietro walked up in time to hear. "Your father has a big heart, Carolyn, and I'm not trying to replace your mother. I just want to be part of something that was denied to me as a child: a warm and loving family." James snagged Natasha's hand, and kissed the back.

"This can be your family too, Rey, if you say yes." Justin shook her. "So what's your answer?"

 **Later That Night**

Natasha was startled awake, but by what? She lifted the covers, and slid out of bed, careful not to wake Bucky. In the dark, she saw Ryder curled up in his usual spot next to the pillow. Since the twins moved in, Priscilla and Rufus had been sleeping with Wanda, and Penelope and Archie with Pietro.

She went into the hall, listening for what woke her. One hand on the railing, she looked down into the foyer, but saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. As she reached the bedroom door, she heard a sound, like sniffling. She followed it down the hall to Wanda's room.

The door was ajar enough for the cats to get in. It also allowed her to hear Wanda crying quietly. Natasha tapped on the door, and let herself in when there was no answer. The cats were sitting on the floor watching Wanda with worried expressions.

Natasha went to get the box of tissues from the bathroom, and came back to sit on the side of the bed. She gave Wanda a few tissues, and stroked her hair. "What's wrong, _malyutka_? I thought you enjoyed yourself today."

"I did. Everyone was so kind, so accepting of two orphans from another country." Wanda dabbed at the tears on her cheeks, and sniffed. "It reminded me how much I miss my parents. They were buried in the cemetery outside of the city, and we won't ever be able to visit their graves."

"Oh, that's not true, honey. You may not be able to go as often as you did before, but we'll be happy to take you there. Perhaps at Christmas."

As she started to go, Wanda held onto her hand, and without a word, Natasha lay down with her daughter on the narrow bed. The girl rolled over, and let Natasha hold her close as one would a small child, and softly sing her a lullaby.

 _Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop_  
 _When the wind blows, the cradle will rock_  
 _When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall_  
 _And down will come baby, cradle and all_

To Natasha's surprise, Wanda smiled. "A baby falling out of a tree is meant to be comforting?"

She rubbed her cheek on her daughter's head, and smiled too. Another more appropriate song came to Natasha. Not perfect, but better than the last one. Instead of singing, she hummed the tune while stroking Wanda's hair.

 _Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high  
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.  
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream,  
Really do come true._

 _Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,  
High above the chimney tops,  
That's where you'll find me._

 _Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly  
Birds fly over the rainbow  
Why then, oh why can't I?  
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow  
Why, oh why can't I?_

~~O~~

Out in the hall, Bucky and Pietro listened at the door. Bucky crossed his arms, and sighed. Hopefully, they had averted their first real crisis. "What about you, Pietro? Homesick yet?"

Bucky felt his son's shrug. "I'm good."

"Me too. Drink?"

"Sure."

 **TBC**

 _I Still Get a Thrill (Thinking of You)_ lyrics by Benny Davis, music by Coots, Davis, Coots  & Engel. It was first recorded in 1930. Peggy Lee's version is one of the most popular.

 _Rock-a-bye Baby_ is a nursery rhyme and lullaby. The melody is a variant of the English satirical ballad Lillibullero.

 _Over the Rainbow_ (or _Somewhere over the Rainbow_ ) is a ballad, with music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by Yip Harburg. It was written for the movie _The Wizard of Oz_ (1939), and was sung by Judy Garland.


	80. Chapter 80

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 80**

To give the women time alone, Bucky and Pietro stayed downstairs for nearly an hour. When they returned to their rooms, Bucky found Natasha sitting in front of the vanity idly brushing her hair as if it were just something to keep her hands busy while she was thinking.

She scooted over, and Bucky sat next to her. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

His wife shook her head, making her red hair bounce. "I'm good at reading people, James. It's what I do."

"Yeah. So?"

The brush clunked on the vanity, and she turned to face him. "So-o, I got the feeling that Wanda was testing me. Yes, I do believe she's homesick for Sokovia, but she also wanted to see what I would do, what my reaction would be the first time there was a parenting crisis."

Gripping her hand, Bucky held it in his lap. "And what conclusion have you drawn from our daughter's nature versus nurture experiment, Professor Romanoff?"

"She fell asleep not long after you and Pietro went downstairs. I got the sense that I'd passed with flying colors."

"That's good."

Natasha nudged him with her shoulder. "Yes, it is." She stood, and stretched. "I'm exhausted. Let's go back to bed. We can talk about it in the morning."

They went to opposite sides of the bed, and got under the covers. "Tasha, I saw you introducing the kids to Thor. What did he think of them?"

"He was entranced, of course. We do have attractive offspring." She chuckled. "When I told him they were fourteen years old, he said, 'I have been gone from Midgard longer than expected.'"

Bucky snorted and pulled her close. "Silly Asgardian. Now go to sleep, my Avenger."

~~O~~

On the way back to his room, Pietro stopped at Wanda's door to see if she was still awake. He heard nothing, so he went on to his room, and lay down, thinking about the day. They played games, listened to music, met all but a few of their siblings, nieces and nephews, ate strange foods, and were utterly captivated by the youngest great-grandchild, Gracie.

For the first time in their lives, the twins had pets. The cats were great, and Pietro was getting used to having two of them barge into his room each night, and climb all over him. He still jumped, thinking they were other less savory creatures, but felt he could get used to it. And when they made the rumbling sound in their throats, it made him feel calm when his thoughts were racing.

Speaking of…

He would have to go out for a long run soon, to work off some nervous energy. Perhaps he'd go to Brooklyn where Steve and Bucky were from, just to have a look at the "old neighborhood", the place that built their new father. As for Natasha, she was raised in Volgograd, Russia, quite a distance from Washington D.C., _and_ from Sokovia. It was unlikely that they'd ever have a reason to visit there. And going overseas wasn't easy, even for him.

There were times when he was out running that he felt his powers hadn't yet reached their full potential. It was the same for Wanda. She was always testing the limits, and reaching beyond the horizon. But how to get away from James and Natasha without being questioned on his destination, and time of return? Pietro snorted to himself. "Tell them you're going for a walk, that you need to be alone."

Satisfied with his plan, such as it was, Pietro turned out the light, and rolled onto his side. A few minutes later, two of the cats came in and got in bed with him. Archie walked up the side and head-booped his chin. "Hello, boy."

He rubbed a hand down the cat's back making it arch. The other cat, Penelope, had flopped down by his feet, and rolled onto her back, exposing her belly. The first time she'd done it he gave in to temptation and rubbed the lighter fur there, and had paid the price. After the second rub, she bit and scratched him, and ran away. Later, he'd come back to his room to find that she'd take his stuffed lizard from the dresser, and was attacking it with her teeth and claws. Since then, he kept it on the shelf in his closet, and shut the door.

Now that he was thinking about it, Pietro went back to what Natasha had said about redecorating their rooms, and what he might want his to look like. He got out of bed, and went to the desk, powered up the computer, and began searching for ideas.

All their lives, Pietro and Wanda had shared a room. The furniture in their apartment had been plain, and serviceable. Nothing special. Their bedroom had nothing on the walls, and only a single lamp on a small table between the beds. He understood that their parents had little money over and above what was needed to feed, clothe and house the family, and didn't ask for things they knew they couldn't have.

Now, Natasha and James were giving them whatever they wanted, within limits, reminding him of an incident during the party.

While everyone's attention was focused on the singer, Wanda and Pietro had snuck over to the coolers, and took out two bottles of something called hard lemonade. They'd just twisted the tops off when suddenly, Natasha was there. She'd taken the bottles, and replaced them with water, giving them both a look of reprimand while taking a drink of the hard lemonade. For someone so small, Natasha had a strong personality.

After she'd gone, they'd brooded, drank their water, and listened to the music. It was annoying being told what they could and couldn't do, but it was also a good thing because they hadn't had someone that cared enough to give them what the Americans called tough love until James and Natasha. Being part of von Strucker's experiments didn't count. The staff at the compound hadn't cared about them as individuals. Just as two more subjects on which to try out their next idea for genetic manipulation.

Soon, though, the newness of their situation would wear off, and real life would come crashing down. Neither James nor Natasha had mentioned school, but it was coming, he could tell. And with it, homework, chores, strict bedtimes, limits on videos games, and parental controls. Wanda had been right when she said it would be a small price to pay in order to get close enough to Tony Stark so they could exact their revenge.

The computer beeped, and Pietro turned his attention back to his search. He scrolled down until he found a photo that fit his ideal of the perfect bedroom. Leaving it on the screen, he went back to bed. When he was comfortable, Archie came and laid in front of his stomach. He stroked the cat, and was rewarded with loud purring. "We are going to be great friends, Archie."

 **Rey's Condo**

All the way back to Rey's, she sat in the passenger seat with her arms crossed, staring out the window. It made for a long, and tense forty-minute drive. When they arrived, she took one small container of leftovers, leaving the rest for Justin to deal with.

By the time he'd brought everything in and put it away, Rey was coming out of the bathroom in her pjs, having brushed her teeth and braided her hair to control it while she slept.

Justin stood in the kitchen doorway as she passed on her way to check the alarms as she did every night. He crossed his arms, wondering what he could've done to deserve the silent treatment this time. On her return trip, he caught hold of her hand, forcing her to look at him. "What's wrong?"

Her expression was one he'd seen before, but not at this level. She pulled free from his grasp, and so quickly he wasn't able to avoid it, Rey slapped him on the back of the head. " _How_ could you put me on the spot like that, Jay?"

Startled and aghast at the same time, he pointed a finger in the air. "Oh, you did _not_ just DiNozzo me!"

Fists jammed into her hips, she glared. "You asked me to marry you, Justin. In front of your _family_! What the hell was I supposed to _say_?"

Crossing his arms again, he gave her his most engaging smile, the one he knew she couldn't resist, and leaned against the jamb. "Was hoping for a yes."

Her mouth opened and closed, and finally, she relaxed. "If I'd had even a," she pinched a centimeter of air, " _tiny_ hint that it was coming… I don't… You're moving too fast. I'm not ready for marriage, Jay. Not yet. Hell. I wasn't even ready for _this_." Her gesture included him, and everything that had happened since his return. "My life was just fine until you came back. Now it's gone to crap."

Nodding as if that was just the answer he wanted to hear, Justin followed her down the hall, and stopped at the second bedroom. "I'll take that as a maybe."

Rey huffed, and jammed those fists into her hips again. "Where are you going?"

"Thought you were mad at me."

Rey rolled her eyes dramatically, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward her bedroom. "You're such an ass, Lockwood."

The door closed in Cleopatra's face, and a moment later, it opened again to let her in.

 **Iris' Home**

Lying together on the bed, Iris stroked the muscles of Chase's bare chest, outlining their contours, and lightly brushing over his dark nipples. He, on the other hand, hadn't done more than skim his hands over her body through her clothes, paying special attention to her waist, hips and thighs, his thumb occasionally brushing the side of her breast. It felt good, but not good enough. She wanted and needed more.

Because of her limited mobility, she wore elastic waist pants that were somewhat loose, to make dressing easier. It would also make what was to come less difficult for both of them. Chase, however, seemed reluctant to do more than tease her, never venturing close to the areas that craved his touch.

He lay beside her, resting on his left hip, touching her hair, their lips and tongues working in tandem to build their mutual arousal. Iris wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and slid his hand under the bottom edge of her top, inhaling sharply at the feel of his calloused fingers and palm so warm on her skin. One finger dipped into her navel, tickling. It surprised her, because she'd had no feeling there even after regaining movement in her legs.

Chase smiled against her mouth, distracting her from what he was doing, until she felt the front closure of her bra give way. He moved the sides out of the way to give him access, which he used to his advantage by lightly curving his hand around her breast, squeezing, and rubbing his thumb over the hardened nub. Iris moaned, and he responded by giving the other one the same treatment.

He must've sensed that she'd had enough of this going slow crap because his hand abandoned the work he was doing, and smoothed its way down over her flat stomach and under the waistband of her pants. Chase paused when he encountered the edge of her panties. Iris placed her hand over his, and looked into his eyes. "Now, Chase."

He smiled, and brought their lips together again, while complying with her demand. And at the first touch, her hands clenched into the material of his shirt. Because she had been balancing on the edge for what seemed like hours, she didn't last long. He moved just right, and suddenly, she was convulsing in his arms, gasping out something that might have been his name.

The feeling went on and on and on, and when she could finally think coherently again, Iris tilted her head back to see Chase watching her with an arrogant smirk. To keep him humble, she pretended to yawn. "That all you got, homeboy?"

Chase took her comment as a challenge, as she hoped he would. "Oh, baby." The smirk widened as he moved over her, nudging her thighs apart while one hand pushed the front of her top up out of the way. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Missing Persons**

 **The Next Morning**

Huffing at her computer, Detective Paloma Juarez, Pally to her family, friends, and partner, waded through the excessive, in her opinion, amount of emails she'd gotten while out on medical leave after being injured in the line of duty. Most were regarding the homicide division, and had nothing to do with her new posting in missing persons.

Just prior to her return, Pally had gotten word that her request for reassignment had come through. And wonder of wonders, so had Adam's, which she hadn't known about. By chance, they'd been partnered again, and both were more than satisfied. When something works, why mess with it?

Adam waved a cup of coffee under her nose, and just the scent perked her up. "Thanks, but you know I can't have caffeine." Still, she held it in both hands, closed her eyes, and inhaled the smooth aroma.

"Don't stress, Pally. It's decaf."

She accepted the cup, took a long sip, and set it within easy reach. " _You_ are the best partner ever."

He hitched a hip on the corner of her desk. "Hold that thought. I pulled some strings and got us a case, a follow-up on one we did a couple years back."

"Please tell me we have to leave the precinct."

Obligingly, Adam said, "We have to leave the precinct."

"Thank God! Now I don't have to wade through these emails."

"Don't you want to know the particulars?"

Pally took her service weapon from the locked bottom drawer, shoved it into the holster under her right arm, and snapped her back-up into the ankle holster. "I don't care if we're picking up a jaywalker. You can brief me on the way."

Adam helped her into her jacket, they grabbed umbrellas, and the pair headed out. "This one's a walk in the park. Remember the suspected homicide we picked up July of '12? Justin Lockwood?"

She called the elevator, adjusted the collar of her jacket, and buttoned the front. "His SUV was found in the Appalachians, right? That one?"

Her partner handed her a file. "A SHIELD search party found his left arm in the woods a couple hundred yards from the crash site. COD was listed as death by dismemberment, possibly due to black bears in the area."

The elevator arrived, and they got on. "That always seemed hinkey to me. Our guys are _good_. I know for a fact they searched the area where the remains were found, and came up empty. Then SHIELD comes along and it's lying in a pile of leaves plain as day?"

Adam took out the keys to their service vehicle, using the fob to unlock the doors. "Well, there's good news, and weird news." He started the engine, buckled his seatbelt, and pulled out of the parking spot. "Good news: we won't have to worry about SHIELD usurping our authority again."

"And the weird news?"

"Lockwood's alive." Adam nodded at the file in her lap, and Pally opened it. "A SHIELD doctor signed the death certificate. Then, just last week, out of the blue, Lockwood shows up, and the papers reinstating him as a living, breathing, tax-paying human being were hustled through the courts."

Pally flipped through the most recent documents on top. "Who has the clout to do something like that?"

"Until May of this year, I would've said SHIELD. But now we can't trust a damn thing that came out of that organization since World War II."

"What I don't get is how this HYDRA could've infiltrated SHIELD in the first place."

He signaled, and made a turn. "SHIELD had some of most highly trained agents in the intelligence community, and yet they totally spaced on the fact that there were Nazis right under their noses for the last seventy years. After the failed coup, both organizations have gone underground."

"Except for the files they dumped on the internet. Which leaves us with the original question plus a thousand more. The top three being, one, why was Lockwood pretending to be dead? Two, where has he been all this time? Three, why did he come back?"

Her partner pulled into a parking space in front of a familiar condo, and shut off the engine, scowling at the rain. "Maybe we can get some answers here. Word is he's been seen in and around the old girlfriend's condo."

Skeptical, Pally remarked, "Lockwood came out as gay when he was fifteen. Yet when he disappeared, he was dating," she consulted the file, "Reya Celeste Medina. She wasn't so forthcoming last time. What makes you think she'll talk to us now?"

"Not a damn thing. Probably lawyer-up again. We can at least try."

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Pally stated, "Then we'll have to convince her to talk to us without one." Adam held the umbrella over both of them, and knocked on the door with the other. It was answered within seconds by a man approximately thirty years of age, with long dark hair, stubbled cheeks, and hooded blue eyes. He wore a t-shirt that said, "It was me. I let the dogs out", sweatpants, and enormous fuzzy slippers that uncannily resembled the black cat in his arms.

Instinct for danger honed over years on the force caused Adam to tense up and Pally's fingers to itch, wanting to feel the weight of her service weapon gripped in her hand. Instead, they held up their badges, with Pally doing the talking. "Detectives Juarez and Foley." She purposely didn't give their department.

The man switched the cat to over his shoulder, patting her on the back as if she were a baby. "What can I help you with, detectives?"

The partners exchanged a glance. "We'd like to talk to you, Mr. Lockwood."

For some reason, he found that funny, grinning as he stepped back so they could enter. Adam closed the umbrella and leaned it against the corner of the small patio. They wiped their feet, and followed him to the living room. He put the cat down, and she jumped up on bar counter to stare holes in their foreheads. "It's chilly out. Can I get you some hot chocolate?"

"Nothing, thanks. We just have a few questions…"

The man waved a hand, and went into the kitchen. "It's no trouble." Over his shoulder, he said, "But if you don't trust me not to drug or poison you, you're welcome to watch."

Seeing that they'd get nothing unless they observed this small courtesy, the partners waited and watched him putter around the kitchen. He came out a few minutes later carrying a tray with three mugs of hot chocolate, three spoons, a plate of cookies, and a can of spray whipped cream. He squirted a generous amount into each mug, and passed them each one.

Taking his own mug, he dragged a chair over from the dining room, sat down, and crossed his knees. "You want to know why I'm not dead."

Using a spoon to stir her drink, Pally watched him through her lashes. "For the record, you _are_ Justin Lockwood, correct?"

He sipped his drink, and set it on the edge of the coffee table. "I take it you're the detectives that investigated my," he winked, "disappearance."

"Sir, we need confirmation of your identity before we can discuss the particulars of the case."

The cat jumped in his lap, and he held her close, rubbing her neck, making her purr. "My wallet's in the drawer to your right, Detective Foley. The driver's license will prove that I _am_ Justin Lockwood. You'll also find the court documents nullifying my death certificate, officially bringing me back to life." Adam passed Pally the wallet while he looked over the documents.

Justin got up and carried the cat to the kitchen, holding her over his shoulder again, while he rummaged in the cabinets. He came out with a small bowl, which he put on the floor next to his chair. After shaking the whipped cream can, he sprayed a generous amount in the bowl, and the cat dived into it, while he whispered to her in what sounded like Russian. He sat down, and tapped the heel of one foot on the floor, making him appear nervous. "Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide."

Curious, Pally asked, "Could we see your wrists?"

Justin held out both hands, wrists up, displaying the Chinese characters for heart and soul. Pally saw the twinkle of humor in his eyes a split second before he said, "I have another on my _ass_ , if you'd like to see it."

The cat sauntered over to stare at Adam, and he looked at her with suspicion. Her partner didn't trust cats. Said they were sneaky. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Lockwood. What we _would_ like is to have our curiosity satisfied on several fronts." Justin sipped his hot chocolate while peering over the edge of the mug, but didn't say anything. "The COD, cause of death, according to SHIELD's ME, was predation. Your left arm was located not far from your vehicle. It had been chewed on by the local wildlife. There was DNA confirmation that the limb belonged to you. Care to explain that?"

Holding the mug in his right hand, Justin raised the left, turning it over to look at the back. "Hmm. Since I do happen to have a left arm, it seems unlikely that the one they found was mine. Probably a mix-up at the lab."

Pally finished her drink, set the mug on the tray, and reached for a cookie, drawing back when she saw a residue of white powder on the plate. It was probably powdered sugar, but she didn't want to take a chance. "I admit that even SHIELD could've made a mistake, especially considering the coup that failed so epically."

Her partner shifted in his seat, relaxing when the cat returned to Justin's side. "For two years, you weren't dead, but you weren't at home. Your brother took controlling interest of the night club. So, where _were_ you all this time?"

Their host rested the ankle on the knee of the other leg, plucked a cookie from the plate, and ate the entire thing all at once. He chewed and swallowed before responding. "My whereabouts for the last two years is," he looked left and right, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "highly confidential." He winked. "I'd be willing to share that information with you, provided I have your word it won't go beyond this room."

Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the rain came down harder, emphasizing his statement. If Pally were the type, she'd be really creeped out right now.

~~O~~

Taking note of his guests' wariness, Justin decided to have a little fun. He went over a list of options in his head, different probable explanations for his absence, and presumed death, none of which could be verified by the Metro PD.

He could give them the "official" story of being undercover with the Russian mob. Kidnapped by a cult who thought he was their leader reincarnated, and committed to a mental health facility under an assumed name, were options as well. Then there was the truth told in such a way that it wouldn't be believed. And his favorite: abducted by aliens.

Cleopatra wandered over. Justin picked her up, stroking her like a supervillain contemplating his plans for world domination. Oh! There's an idea! He could tell them that he'd taken refuge in his secret lair, and returned home when he ran out of funding for his evil plans.

From the looks on their faces, Justin could tell that whatever story he gave them would likely not be believed, so why not have some fun with it?

His phone beeped, giving him another idea. He put Cleopatra on the floor, and stood. "Excuse me a moment."

In the bathroom, he found a bottle of ibuprofen. He dumped two in his hand, and returned to the living room. Using the last of his hot chocolate, Justin swallowed the pills, and reclaimed his seat, giving Juarez and Foley an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Had to take my meds. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah."

Justin rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. While talking, he played with the fake cat whiskers on the slipper, and stroked it between the eyes as if it were a real cat. "Until a few days ago, I didn't remember much of the last two years. But then my therapist and I had an _amazing_ breakthrough, and it all came back."

Foley's hand twitched, and he knew the man wanted to take out his weapon, just in case.

Justin looked off into the distance. "After my date with Rey, I was driving home, and my onboard computer started acting up. Then, a few miles down the highway, _that's_ when it happened."

The detectives looked at each other again. Weird how they seemed to communicate telepathically. Or maybe not. Justin and Chase did it all the time. Juarez asked, "When what happened, Mr. Lockwood?"

Justin huffed with annoyance. "Aliens, of course."

"Um, aliens?"

He scooted closer to the coffee table, and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "That night, I was abducted by…" again, lightning flashed, followed by loud thunder that shook the building, causing the lights to flicker, "… _aliens_."

 **TBC**


	81. Chapter 81

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning** : This chapter contains some content not suitable for those under the age of 21.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 81**

 _And there it is, the look_ , Justin thought with glee. _The one that says, "This guy's nuts."_

"…of course, I don't remember _everything_. Just being taken, and having my arm cut off. When they were ready to send me home, they cloned a new one." He flexed the fingers. "Looks and feels real. Works better than the old one."

Once more, Juarez and Foley shared a look. Foley put away his pad, and pen, and they stood together. "I think that's all we need, Mr. Lockwood."

Justin followed them to the door. "But… but don't you want to hear about the mind probes, the torture, and the things they shoved up my…"

Juarez held up a hand while Foley opened the umbrella. "If we have any follow-up questions, we'll contact you, Mr. Lockwood. Thanks for speaking to us, and have a good afternoon."

They stepped off the patio into the rain, and Justin was tempted to let them go. However, he had one more thing to say. "Detectives, a piece of advice for dealing with people who've been through a traumatic experience, and came out of it alive."

Foley took a set of keys from his pocket. "What's that?"

Stepping out onto the patio, Justin leaned against the post holding Cleopatra, and stroking her back. His genial attitude had turned serious, with a note of warning, though he doubted the detectives would take it that way. "Never trust a survivor until you find out what they had to do to stay alive."

He watched them leave then went back inside. "Cleo, my love, those cops don't believe a word I said, and that's just how we want it. Now all we gotta do is plant the rest of the stories, and no one will know what to think." Holding her up in the air, Justin walked down the hall to the bedroom. "I feel like a nap. What about you, _koshechka_?"

Cleopatra mewed, and Justin pulled her close to his chest where he could feel the rumble of her purrs. "That's my girl." In the bedroom, he let her down on the bed, and lay on his side, stroking from her head all the way to the end of her tail over and over. "Would you like me to be your cat-daddy all the time?"

She flopped on the bed and rolled onto her back so he could rub her belly. Three rubs exactly, or she would bite the shit out of him. "Then talk to your cat-mommy. She's the one making the decision."

 **Iris' Home**

 **Morning**

The bed bounced, and Chase rolled over to see Iris pulling on her robe. Before she could stand, he got her around the waist, and pulled her across the bed, pressing her back against his chest. "Not so fast, young lady." She squealed when he kissed her neck, nibbled on her ear, and whispered, "They say that morning sex is the best. Let's find out."

Her hand touched his cheek as she turned to kiss him. At the same time, Chase slipped his hand inside her robe while rubbing his lower abdomen against her backside, and she rubbed back. "Mmm."

He grasped the edge of the bottom of the robe, pushing it up out of the way, and carefully lifted her top leg while moving his hips forward. She gasped as they were joined once more. Chase kept his movements slow and easy, with the occasional deep thrust, loving the sounds she made and the way her nails dug into his backside as they approached the ultimate pinnacle.

And when it happened, Iris grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled him to her for a long, hot kiss. When it was over, she sagged in his arms, her energy spent. Chase helped her roll over so he could see her face, cuddling her close with her head tucked into his neck.

As their breathing returned to normal, Iris moaned, the vibrations humming against his skin. "O-oh. That's _so_ much better than coffee to wake up to."

He stroked her hair. "I agree. But we're still having coffee, right?"

Iris chuckled. "We can pick some up on the way to work."

Again, Iris attempted to get out of bed, and again, Chase stopped her, sighing as he rubbed his nose on her neck. "Don't wanna work. Let's just stay like this all day."

Iris placed her palms against his shoulders and pushed him back until they were eye to eye. "Can't. We have vendors coming in, the new bouncer/bartender will be there for orientation and to fill out the last of his paperwork, and…"

"And?"

She pushed a little harder, and he finally let go. "I really, _really_ have to pee!"

Chase quickly rolled out the other side of the bed, pulling on his boxers as he came around the end. He scooped her up in his arms, and rushed her into the bathroom, put her down, and closed the door.

In the bedroom, he'd just finished gathering his clothes when he heard the toilet flush, and the bathroom door open just a crack. "Cha-ase! I'm gonna take a bath, and need someone to wash my ba-ack!"

He loved that sultry little sing-song voice of hers. The clothes scattered over the floor, and a moment later, the bathroom door slammed behind him.

Dakota whimpered, and scratched at the door. Chase muttered, "Shit!" under his breath as he came out, and let the dog into the back yard. When Dakota was done, he came inside, and took up his post by the bathroom door. Chase rubbed the dog's head, and returned to Iris and her thinly veiled demand for bathtub sex.

 **The Lockwood/Rogers Home**

 **Morning**

The morning had been cool, but not enough for Steve to need a sweatshirt on his run though Joi wore one, discarding it after the first mile. Usually, they talked on their runs, but today, Joi had brought her iPod, and listened to music. They stopped for coffee at the same little shop they'd been going to since the beginning. The staff knew them, and had their order ready the moment they walked in the door.

On the walk back to the condo, Joi hadn't spoken, and Steve let her have some space for whatever was on her mind. However, this had gone on since the barbeque at Bucky's, and she was no closer to talking it out than when it happened. Whatever _it_ was. Because this wasn't her usual MO, Steve decided to get the ball rolling.

He came out of the bedroom, and stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching Joi at the stove making breakfast. Her movements were precise, nothing wasted, as she slid an enormous omelet onto a second plate next to another. She carried the plates to the small table in the kitchen, and came back with croissants, placing two on Steve's plate and keeping the for herself.

Steve sat down across from his wife, and waited to see if she would open up before starting a conversation. However, by the time he was done eating, all Joi had done was eat, and give him the occasional smile that seemed sad.

She got up to put her plate in the sink. Steve took her hand, and pulled her onto his lap. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "Everything since you got that phone call Monday. You've been quiet, and distant."

Bruno and Trixie came into the kitchen and went right to their food bowls.

After a couple of false starts, Joi rested her hand on his shoulder. "The show will resume filming next week, and I wanted to get a few things out of the way early. Well, last week, I went for my annual physical with my OB-GYN. In addition to the usual tests, I had him do a few others, just to make sure that when we were ready to start a family, it would go like clockwork." She took a deep breath, and let it out. "Well, it turns out that the 'clock' doesn't work."

"What d'you mean?" The dogs came over, demanding their morning pets. Joi moved back to her seat, and Bruno put his head and one paw in her lap, while Trixie danced on her back legs until Steve picked her up. She cuddled against his chest, and panted happily.

"All the benefits I got from Gramps' hyped up genes came with one enormous downside." Not one to avoid a problem or pretend it doesn't exist, Joi looked him in the eye. "I won't ever be able to have children. Not the normal way. We'll have to adopt."

While the news was a shock, Steve was relieved that it wasn't something worse, that she was dying, or had contracted some weird disease while in Europe. He reached for her hand. "Then we'll adopt. If Bucky and Nat did it, so can we."

"Good." She brushed a thumb over his cheek. "Don't tell anyone just yet."

"Not a word, babe."

Joi shook her head, and laughed. _How did I get so lucky as to find you, Steve?_

A wave of affection whispered through him. "We found each other, remember?"

The smile on Joi's face turned to puzzlement. "Sorry?"

"You asked how you got so lucky, and I said…"

She came over, and pressed a hand to his forehead and cheeks. "You don't have a fever that I can tell."

"I don't get sick. Joi, what are you talking about?"

He handed her his empty plate when Trixie started sniffing around for leftovers. Joi put it in the sink, turned on the hot water, and added soap. "I didn't say anything before. I was thinking it, but didn't say it."

"Then something weird's going on."

"Yeah. One of us is hearing things."

To end the conversation Steve set Trixie on the floor, and stood. "I'll do the dishes so you can go to your appointment."

He leaned down to kiss Joi, and she gripped his arms tightly for a moment then she was gone. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Behave while I'm gone."

Steve went to the kitchen doorway. "Don't worry. I'll keep the dogs out of trouble."

"I was talking to _you_." Joi winked, and blew him a kiss as she shut the front door.

Shaking his head, Steve got down to washing the dishes while thinking long and hard about Joi's announcement. When finished, he picked up his phone to make a call. "Can we talk?"

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

Too restless to sleep, Pietro tiptoed down the stairs, and let himself out the back door. To keep from being seen when he started his run, he crossed the field behind the house to where he was surrounded by a grove of trees.

He took out his phone to check the map once more so he'd be able to find the correct part of Brooklyn when he arrived. After a good, long stretch, Pietro took off, and in less than thirty minutes, he'd crossed the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge into Brooklyn. He stopped on the corner of East 49th Street and Farragut Road to get his bearings. There were several sights he wanted to see while he was here. The first was Rockaway Beach. Then, Thomas Jefferson High School, and the Brooklyn Public Library. He would've liked to see James' old apartment, but someone was living in it now. Long Beach, Yonkers, Manhattan, Long Island, and maybe slip over into New Jersey just to annoy James and Steve.

Seconds later, Pietro was on the boardwalk of Rockaway Beach. He strolled the length of the island, letting the sound of the water soothe his mind and thoughts that always seemed to be racing. Von Strucker had mentioned that it might be a side effect of his powers. Racing thoughts, the feeling that everyone else was moving too slowly, or that time had slowed down, greatly increase stamina, the ability to heal quickly, superhuman reflexes, and, theoretically, phasing through solid objects by vibrating his entire body were among his abilities.

An increased metabolism came with all of the above, and now that he was thinking about food, Pietro was hungry. He stopped to eat, and paid for his meal so Wanda and their parents wouldn't be upset with him, though it was unlikely that any of them would know if he stole the food.

Pietro picked out a souvenir for Wanda-a small stuffed bear with "Brooklyn" stitched on its belly then thought better of it. If Natasha or James saw it, they would want to know where it had come from, and he would have to lie. In the past, such a thing would get him one of his sister's looks, and a mild reprimand. But after what happened in Sokovia the day they came to live in the US, he didn't want to risk disappointing his new parents again.

Church bells rang, telling Pietro that it was time to go home. He found a safe place, and took off. Once again, he got the feeling that, if he had to, he could go even faster. Perhaps he needed the right incentive.

Brushing his hair into place, Pietro used his key to let himself in. At the top of the stairs, Natasha came out of her room, unsmiling, but not angry. "We don't mind you going out, Pietro. Just next time, leave a note saying where you've gone, and when you might return."

Annoyed, he crossed his arms. "Do you really have to know where I am at all times? We lived on the streets for many months before you came along. I'm sure we'll be fine on our own now and then."

She held out her hand, and Pietro found himself taking it. The fingers felt so delicate in his grip that he was afraid to hold on too tight. Natasha drew him over to the stairs, and urged him to sit next to her. "It's not about being able to take care of yourself. It's a matter of courtesy." Her free hand went around his neck, pulling him close. "There's an entire family who would worry if you didn't come home. Without knowing your approximate whereabouts, and when you were due home, we'd have no idea where or when to start looking. Just remember that you no longer have the luxury of being self-involved."

He thought over what Natasha said, and agreed. "Next time I go out, I will leave a note."

"On the refrigerator is good." One side of her mouth turned up. "I usually leave notes on the bathroom mirror for James." Her hand patted his knee. "So where did you go?"

"For a run. I get restless sometimes, and it helps."

A full smile came his way. "We should go together then." Natasha stood, and held out her hand. Pietro took it, and stood. "Come on. It's my turn to make breakfast, and you're going to help. Don't worry. We'll make it something simple."

They stepped into the kitchen to find the cats crowded around the feeding station demanding food. "Feeding the cats can be one of your chores from now on. You can switch out with Wanda." Natasha opened the cabinet below the counter. "Make sure you put the lids on tight, or Priscilla will get into the food and eat so much she gets sick."

"Why are there three dishes?"

Natasha set the food bowls on the counter. "Because Ryder won't share one with the other cats, and believe me, we've tried. If we don't give him his own, he waits for the others to finish before eating."

"Is he what is called a picky eater?"

"Not really. He just doesn't like sharing a bowl with the other cats. We're working on it though, giving him lots of love and attention. He's bonded with James. Whenever he's working from home, Ryder stays in the den with him. Even sits outside the bathroom while James showers."

When Pietro came near, Ryder sat down, and stared at him as if he were a contagious laboratory specimen. He crouched to set the bowls on the mats provided, except for Ryder's. He placed it next to the others, and waited. The cat maintained his distance, sitting like a statue aside from the tip of his tail tapping the floor in an angry rhythm. To show him that his behavior was not acceptable, Pietro sat down with the bowl resting on his crossed ankles. "If you want it, boy, you've got to come and get it. No more special treatment for you." The cat's eyes flicked from Pietro to the bowl and back over and over. It was obvious he was hungry, but he refused to come close enough for Pietro to touch him.

"Try again tomorrow, _lyubimaya moya_." Natasha motioned for Pietro to join her. "Today, we're going to have leftovers from yesterday's picnic. Not what we usually have for breakfast, but don't want it to go to waste."

"Many times, Wanda and I would eat whatever we could find, or someone would give us." He looked away from her intense stare. "And yes, sometimes we had to steal to keep from going hungry."

Natasha passed him covered dishes from the refrigerator. Pietro set them on the counter, loosened the lids, and added spoons for serving, while Natasha placed burgers on a baking pan, and put them in the oven. "Please go wake you father and sister."

On impulse, Pietro kissed Natasha on the cheek, and gave her a wink. " _Da, matushka_."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

 **Tony's Lab**

An enormous hologram hovered over the center of the lab, while lines of code flashed by at such a speed that the human brain couldn't comprehend it. Tony touched the hologram in places, bringing the code to a stop so he could examine it closer, looking for flaws. When he found them, that section would be dragged off to one side so he could work on it without distraction.

" _Sir, Dr. Banner is requesting an audience_."

"Tell him to make like a tree."

Jarvis sighed. " _I have, sir, but he is quite insistent. Plus he has all the codes to gain entrance to the labs_."

Mentally rolling his eyes, Tony continued to work on the block of code he'd separated from the main source, whispering under his breath, "Gotta change that." Out loud, he said, "Jarvis, initiate the Hide and Seek Protocol."

" _Yes, sir_."

Was it his imagination, or did Jarvis sound peeved? Tony moved out of range of the holograms as they shrunk in upon themselves, and came back in a different configuration, a representation of a satellite labeled "Veronica".

The lab door opened to admit Bruce. He was carrying a tablet, and making notations with a stylus. "You don't have to hide behind Veronica, Tony. I know what you're up to."

Tony walked around the hologram, stopping here and there to enlarge certain areas to examine them in more detail. "Then you should know better than to bother me while I'm working."

Bruce laid the tablet on the nearest table, and dropped into a chair. "Just because the last one was successful doesn't mean the next one will be."

"Sure of that, are you?"

"As sure as I can be without completing the new program. Do you really think it's worth destroying what you've already created?" Bruce took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

Annoyed, Tony went to Bruce's side, and took the chair next to him. "It won't be destroyed. I'll be integrating everything I've learned from my previous success into the next generation."

"That's just it, Tony. What you're contemplating _isn't_ a next gen. You want to kick evolution into overdrive. It's like skipping from the Miocene era to the Pleistocene. It's not recommended. Evolution takes time, even for AIs."

"You're making it sound like I'm going forward in time to steal tech, and give it to the Neanderthals."

The tablet next to Bruce beeped. "I have to get back. Just promise me you'll leave the Ultron program on the back burner where it belongs."

"I never make promises I can't keep, Big Guy."

Bruce stood, and touched Tony on the shoulder. "You're certain she doesn't know?"

"She doesn't, because that's how she was programmed." His friend nodded understanding, and left him alone.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

The family had just sat down to breakfast when Natasha's phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, she was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but her little voice told her to answer. "Excuse me. Gotta get this." Natasha carried her coffee to the living room, and over to the window so she could look out. "What's up, Steve?"

" _Joi got some news. Doesn't want everyone to know yet_."

Natasha had an idea what Steve was going to say. She let herself out onto the patio, and switched to French. "What sort of news?"

Steve replied in the same language. " _Her woman's doctor said she can't have kids_."

Taking a seat, Natasha expressed her sympathy. "Sorry to hear that. How do you feel about it?"

She heard him moving around the condo, and the dogs playing in the background. " _Disappointed, of course. Whatever happens, she and I'll work through it together. The reason I called is to get info on how to go about adopting. It didn't take long for you and Bucky._ "

"Our situation is unusual. And I'm pretty sure we had help."

" _Fury and Hill._ "

She sipped her coffee, and curled her feet under. "Any idea when you might want to start looking?"

The sofa creaked under Steve when he sat down. " _Not until we find a house. And we're not looking yet. Joi has four to six weeks of filming left for this season. We'll go looking during the hiatus._ "

"Out of curiosity, how many kids do you want?"

He huffed with humor. " _Haven't discussed it yet_." Whining and yips came through the phone. " _Gotta go. The dogs need to go out. Thanks for the talk, Nat_."

 **Tunnel Vision**

Sitting across the room from each other, Chase and Iris kept focused on their work, occasionally catching each other's eye, and smiling.

Her computer beeped, and Chase looked up, curious. Big brown eyes scanned the email, bringing a smile of satisfaction to her lips, and reminding him of the feel of her mouth moving against his, stoking the flames of arousal.

"Good news. Our new bouncer passed his drug test and background check."

"Great. He can start tonight. It shouldn't be busy. Alex can show him the ropes."

Iris tapped at the keyboard, her eyes intent, and a pen clamped in her straight, white teeth. Chase gave in to temptation. He crossed the room, and sat on the corner of Iris' desk. She didn't immediately acknowledge him, and it irked him. Going down on one knee, Chase took the pen from between her teeth, and planted a kiss on her lips. Her response was absentminded at best. He held the pen out, and she clamped on it again, all without a pause.

Leaning close to her ear, Chase whispered, "Do you know what I want to do to you right now?"

She finally removed the pen, and gave him her full attention. "If it's anything like what you did to me during the night, I have a pretty good idea, 'cause I wanna do the same to you. In case you're wondering, yes, I'm still, um, hot to trot." Feeling daring, Chase used a finger to pull the front of Iris' top out so he could look down the front, tilting his head to the side. Iris gave him a shove, and in retaliation, he placed a hand on her thigh, slowly moving it upwards. When he reached his goal, she gasped, and he pounced, kissing her breathless. They parted, yet he kept teasing her. "This would be so much easier if you wore a skirt."

Her mouth opened, and closed again when someone knocked on the door. Reluctantly, Chase beat a hasty retreat to his desk. "Come in."

Alex stuck his head in, startled to see Iris. "Came to tell Chase that someone was parked in your spot."

Grinning, Chase leaned back in his chair. "That's me." He waved a hand back and forth indicating Iris and himself. "We carpooled this morning."

"Oh. That new bouncer's here."

Iris smiled. "Send him in."

The manager motioned to someone, and stood back so he could enter then closed the door. Immediately, Iris stood and extended her hand. "Thanks for coming." She motioned to Chase, who'd come around the desk. "This is Tunnel Vision's owner, Chase Lockwood."

The African-American man stood six-three, weighed about two-thirty, most of it muscle, had broad shoulders, a bald head, and a goatee. The men shook hands. "Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Lockwood, Ms. Castillo. Not many employers would give an ex-con a second chance. Name's Cage. Luke Cage."

 **TBC**


	82. Chapter 82

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 82**

Thinking about Justin and his second chance, Chase offered Cage a seat, and went back to his desk. "Everyone deserves at least one more chance to get it right." He consulted the virtual paperwork Iris had sent him. "We'll start you tonight, if that works."

"It does."

"Good. Your duties will be fluid. After the lunch rush, we'll have you cover the bar, maybe even wait tables to give the other employees their breaks until time to cover the door. Any questions on that, ask Alex. Might have you help with stocking, and receiving, too."

Cage signed his name to the electronic reader, and handed it to Iris. "I'm up for anything. Been out of work since being released from Seagate Prison."

She saved the signature to Cage's records, making him an official employee of Tunnel Vision. "The uniform is a polo shirt with the company's logo, and either khakis or jeans, and non-skid shoes. On the nights we have special events, we ask that you wear a suit and tie."

Chase continued, "We generally hire a couple of rent-a-cops to assist with security, who will report directly to you."

"What size shirt do you wear, Mr. Cage?"

"Luke, please. And 3X."

The shirts were in bins on the shelf against the wall behind Iris' desk. She swiveled around, locating the correct size. Before Chase could offer to get them for her, she stood, and reached up to open the bin, pulling out two shirts, one in dark blue, the other in dark green, laid them on the desk, and resumed her seat. "Call us Iris and Chase. We don't stand on formalities here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Iris resumed her seat without seeming to notice anything odd in her behavior, but Chase did. He'd been sitting across from her for a couple of weeks, and had never seen her rise up on tip-toe without losing her balance. Yet, just now, she had done it without a problem.

There was a knock on the door announcing Alex. He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, Chase, but the produce guy wants to see you."

Iris reached for her wheelchair. "I'll go."

Alex looked uncomfortable. "He wants to talk to _Chase_." He glanced from one to the other. "Since the day you ripped him a new one, Iris, he's been afraid of you."

She scoffed. "He brought _half_ what we ordered, and most of it was spoiled. What did he _think_ was going to happen when he brought us squishy Roma tomatoes and wilted arugula?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, Alex commented, "All I know is he wants to see the boss. Won't talk to anyone else." He backed out and closed the door.

Chase and Luke shared amused glances. Iris was five-one, and weighed in at around a buck ten. If the produce delivery guy was afraid of _her_ , what would he think of Luke? Chase opened the door. "I got it this time, but I'll make sure he understands that you're the one he has to deal with going forward."

~~O~~

When Chase had gone, Luke stood. "I'll suit-up, and hit my post." He reached over the desk to shake Iris' hand. "Thanks again. Think I'm gonna like it here."

"Glad you could join the team, Luke. My door is always open. If you have any problems, let me know."

The door closed behind Luke, leaving Iris alone to contemplate the fact that her legs suddenly felt stronger than they had in years. She stood, and came around the desk. Taking a deep breath, she let go, and took a step, inhaling sharply when she did it without losing her balance. Experimentally, she took another, and another, until she stood in the middle of the room.

She turned to go back to her seat, grabbing Luke's abandoned chair for support when she stumbled. Once she'd regained her balance, she walked the rest of the way without holding on. Hoping that this wasn't a fluke, a result of her night of unbridled passion with Chase that would wear off in a day or so, Iris called her doctor, and made an appointment.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

 **Afternoon**

Bucky climbed the stairs to the second floor, hesitating outside Wanda's room. So far, he and Natasha had let the kids do what they wanted outside of family time, meals and so forth, their relationship more like friends than parents. Now it was time to be the bad guys. Lay down the law. It was the part of being a parent he actively disliked.

He knocked, and Wanda's voice called out, "Come in."

Wanda was sitting on the bed with color samples spread out around her. Most were dark colors, deep purple, black, dark reds and blues. For most people, Bucky might think the person was depressed, if not for the happy, child-like smile on her face.

Bucky picked up one of the palettes in shades of red. "Still can't decide, huh?"

She sighed, and scooted over so he could sit beside her. "I would have to see the furniture to know what works best." Her hand waved over the palettes spread in front of her. "Darker colors make it easier for me to sleep."

"Understandable. I can sleep anywhere. A holdover from my Army days." At her questioning glance, he explained. "Before being captured, my squad and I barely slept at all, and when we did, it was in a foxhole, under a dead tree, and sometimes a cave. When I came home, sleeping on a bed again took some getting used to. My wife was patient though, and would sometimes lay on the floor with me."

"You and Natasha sleep on the floor?"

Bucky looked at her from the side. "Connie, my first wife. We were married sixty years. She, uh, she was a much better wife than I was a husband." He could see that Wanda didn't know what to say to his confession. "We can talk about that later. It's time for a family meeting."

"What will we talk about?"

At the door, Bucky looked back at his daughter, and felt like the luckiest man in the world. "Family stuff. School, chores, and so forth."

He stood in the hall for a moment then went to rouse Pietro. From the noise and laughter, the boy was awake and playing some sort of game. He tapped on the door, stepping back when it was jerked open. Pietro was grinning, and holding a cat's feather toy. At his feet, Archie and Penelope stared up at him, displeased that he'd interrupted their play time. "Sorry to break this up. Family meeting downstairs in ten minutes."

"I'll be there." The door closed in his face, and Pietro went back to playing with the cats.

Bucky returned to the first floor where Natasha was setting up a study schedule for the kids, as well as making a list of chores for them to do. Her work was displayed on the plasma screen. He sat beside her. "How do we test their level of knowledge?"

"I've cued-up a test, and sent it to their computers. Once they're done, I'll finalize the study schedule." Natasha toggled to another screen. "I've also set aside time for exercise, and am arranging for them to join extracurricular activities at the high school so they have kids their own age with whom to socialize. If Justin's agreeable, he can teach them music. I'll handle Phys-Ed, at least for now. We can also ask Steven James for advice."

"You've thought of everything."

Natasha smiled at him. "Hope so."

~~O~~

* _School_ _?_ * Pietro exclaimed in Wanda's mind, making her wince. * _I told you this would happen! I don't_ _want_ _to go to school!_ *

She resisted a mental and physical eye roll. ** _So you've said on many occasions, brother. As long as we abide by their rules, we'll get to stay. Or would you rather get a job?_ **

* _Job?!_ * If anything, his contempt for taking a job came through even more vehemently.

** _It's something we'll have to do eventually._ ** Wanda slipped her shoes on, and left her room, meeting Pietro in the hall. ** _I won't allow you to steal everything we need to live. We'll have to blend in, hide in plain sight from the rest of the world._ **

* _I don't want to hide. I want to be_ _me_ _._ *

** _As do I. However, hiding is preferable to being hunted._ **

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and joined Natasha and Bucky in the living room, taking seats on either side of them.

"Starting this week, we've created a schedule of chores for both of you to complete," Natasha told them.

Bucky continued, "As for your education, we've decided to home school you, at least for the first year. We'll begin by having you take a test."

"Because the test is designed to assess your level of knowledge in a variety of subjects, you aren't allowed to use the Internet to look up the answers."

Pietro wasn't happy, and let it show in his voice. "How long will it take?"

Natasha gripped his hand, and smiled. "Less than an hour. Once we know what you know, we can decide where to begin. Have either of you thought about what your major would be when you go to university?"

The twins shared a look, and shook their heads, Wanda speaking for them. "Attending university was not something we thought would be possible, so we have not."

"You have plenty of time to decide," Bucky told them while Natasha tapped at the computer. "I've sent the test to your computers to take when we're done here."

Wanda knew her brother's feelings on the subject, and agreed that it was a waste of time. However, it was something that had to be done. She tuned back in to what Bucky was saying.

"…we've opened debit accounts for each of you. Every two weeks, we'll deposit your allowance in the accounts, which you can keep track of online." He passed over cards with their names on them. "If you run out of money before the two weeks is up, you're out of luck. However, should something come up where you're in need of additional funds, come talk to one of us. We'll arrange for you to perform additional chores to earn the extra cash. Then, when you're sixteen, you can get part time jobs, as long as they don't interfere with your studies."

Natasha closed the laptop. "I've also sent the list of chores to your computers. If you want to trade out, that's fine. We won't micromanage, as long as the work gets done. As for cooking, once you've learned the basics, you'll sometimes have to make your own meals, or even meals for the family. For instance, if James has to work late, or I have to go out of town for business."

Bucky raised a finger in the air. "By the way, we're headed out to your Uncle Clint's house on Friday. The weather gets chilly at night, and can be warm during the day, so pack accordingly. Any questions?"

Wanda shook her head, and Pietro did the same. Neither was happy with this turn of events, but there wasn't anything they could do about it. They'd agreed to go along with whatever rules James and Natasha set for them in order to achieve their goal.

When they reached their rooms, Pietro and Wanda held the debit cards in their hands, their thoughts whirling. Neither of them had expected to be treated so kindly, and generously by their new parents. It made her wonder what would happen if Natasha and James knew of their plans for Tony Stark.

Without a word, they went into their rooms and shut the doors. Wanda turned on her computer. While it was warming up, she placed the debit card in her wallet and put it in her purse. Both items had been purchased the day she and Natasha had gone shopping.

The computer beeped. Wanda called up the test, and got to work.

 **Sunshine Pilate's Studio**

 **New Location**

The door was closed and locked behind the movers, leaving Rey alone in the studio cluttered with boxes. After the gang shootout at the old location, she found another place in a better neighborhood, and had moved even before the lease was up.

She turned on the new sound system, dropped in several of her favorite CDs, and got to work organizing the office.

Hours later, feeling dirty, and sweaty, Rey sat down to rest. She knocked back most of a bottle of water, and made the decision to come back on Saturday with someone who could help her move the heavy items around.

That brought her thoughts to Justin. He had a long talk with the owner of the construction company he'd been working for, explaining his situation. The man had been understanding, and added him to the payroll under his real name, though his boss and the other employees still called him Finn.

One of the features that the new studio had that the other lacked was showers. Two stalls were in the back next to the bathrooms. Rey carried her gym bag with the extra set of clothes into the back, and took a long, hot shower.

Standing in front of the mirror combing her long hair, she again thought about changing the style. As it was, her hair was all one length, the ends touching the top of her hips. She was getting tired of the hassle of long hair. The reason she'd let it grow was because Justin liked long hair, and she'd wanted to please him even though he was no longer around. It had been a way to honor the memory of a kind, sweet, and generous soul. But life had changed. Rey braided her hair, gathered her dirty clothes, tossed the towels into the laundry bin, and left the studio.

On the way home, she stopped at a stylist recommended by one of her students, just to get an idea of what she might look like with a variety of different styles. She came out two hours later, feeling better about herself now that she felt better about her appearance.

When she got home, Rey let herself in. Cleopatra took one look at her and walked away with her tail in the air. Rey snickered. "You'll get used to it, Cleo. So will everyone else." Everyone else meaning Justin.

Of course, she couldn't think about Justin without agonizing over their current situation. They were living together, but not in the normal sense. It wasn't that she didn't want him here. She did, but after his ordeal, she thought it important that he be on his own for a while. The master of his own fate, so to speak. Living with her, he had to take into account her wants and needs as well as Cleopatra's. In his own place, Justin wouldn't have to answer to anyone.

Justin had been on his own for weeks before Rey had taken him in, and now that she was looking at things objectively, she realized that he'd subconsciously hoped he'd be caught because he was afraid to be alone. However, he had to get over that or his past would haunt for a long time, possibly for the rest of his life.

Rey put dinner on to cook, fed Cleopatra, and went over her reasoning one more time. Certainly it wasn't a flawless plan, but it was all she had. He needed help that she wasn't equipped to give him, and by pushing him out, hopefully he would seek out a professional.

 **Seoul, South Korea**

Standing outside the isolation chamber, Tony read the information scrolling across the computer screen in front of him while Bruce and Helen performed tests, and took samples of the nodules that had grown to cover nearly all of Arik's body. His brain had been inundated by the cancer-like cells that had taken over. How he was still alive, no one could say at this point. The only thing certain was that Arik would die, likely within the next twelve to twenty-four hours.

Tony moved over to another screen, and set the device's code flowing at a slow rate. Slow for him. The average person read around two hundred words per minute. He could read, comprehend and retain up to three thousand words per minute. However, he didn't want to miss anything crucial, and so had slowed the scroll rate way down.

Now and then, he would stop the text, and make a notation, all while keeping an eye on the doctors, and their work.

All three of them ignored the big man standing in the corner. Thor insisted on being present when any of the team entered the chamber. It was for their protection, and his peace of mind. One of the suits would've worked just as well, but Thor was adamant.

Tony went into Helen's main lab and dragged a chair out so he could sit down while he worked. Soon, he was in so deep, everything around him faded away.

An unknown amount of time later, Tony was disturbed by an alarm going off. In the chamber, Bruce and Helen were performing CPR on Arik, even knowing it was a losing battle. He stepped out of the way when Helen's assistant John rushed into the chamber to help.

Eventually, they halted their efforts, and John pulled the sheet up to cover Arik's face. A tear traced its way down Helen's cheek, and Bruce put an arm around her shoulders for comfort.

What no one had noticed was that Thor had left the room. It wasn't like him to be squeamish, so Tony went looking, and found him in the lounge. "Thought you'd like to know show's over. Arik has gone to the big mansion in the sky."

"I do not understand."

"He's dead, Point-Break. Breathed his last, gave up the ghost, he'd pushing up daisies, cashed in his chips."

Thor nodded. "Orlov is with the gods. He was a warrior, and deserved to die in battle. I will mourn his passing."

Tony shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Yeah. Me too."

Thor wasn't listening. He turned his head to the side, his hand gripping the hammer tighter. "Forgive me, Stark. I am being summoned back to Asgard. Give my regrets to Helen as well."

Tony followed Thor through Helen's office and out onto the balcony. "Have a safe…"

The hammer made a whooshing sound as Thor swung it, and lifted off into the sky. For a long time, Tony stood staring at the spot where his friend had disappeared. Then, he seemed to realize that he was here for a specific purpose, and returned to the iso chamber. John and two others were loading the body onto a stretcher, no doubt taking him to be prepared for the autopsy.

While Tony didn't want to stick around for the fun and games of watching Arik being cut open, and his organs dissected, he had agreed to help. What he really wanted was to go home and spend the evening with Pepper. But that wasn't possible. Not now. Maybe not ever, and it was his fault, just like always. The saying that those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it held true for him. He hadn't learned from his mistakes, none of them, and Pepper had paid the price.

The door opened, and Helen stepped out onto the balcony. "Arik is being prepped for the autopsy, Tony. I know it's not your area of expertise, but I would appreciate it if you would observe."

Knowing he'd been a gloomy Gus since his arrival at Helen's lab, Tony did what he does best: he turned on the charm. He took Helen's hand, still slightly damp from washing, and kissed the fingers. "For you, fair Helen, I would do almost anything."

She blushed when he tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and led the way back to the operating theater, bowing as she entered the scrub room. She backed into the room, giving him that same look he used to get from Pepper when she thought he was nuts.

Going to his right, Tony passed through a set of secured doors, and climbed up to the observation room. Leaning on the window ledge, he watched the flow of people below without really seeing them until the speaker crackled.

" _Pay attention, Tony. We're ready to begin_."

"On it." Tony activated the remote in his left hand. Inside the operating theater, several drones lifted off, hovering over the scene like helicopters at a secret celebrity wedding. While the drones recorded, Tony picked up a tablet, and went back to examining the code.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

"…I really appreciate this. My sitter had to go out of town for a family emergency, and I'm going for my Master's, and need to be able to study without distractions."

Natasha waved away Nicole's appreciation. "Happy to do it, Nikki." Gracie had both arms around Natasha's waist, hugging her tight. "The Munchkin's always welcome. And don't worry about picking her up. We'll keep her the night, and bring her home around lunchtime."

The look of relief on Nicole's face gave Natasha a warm feeling that she could help in some small way.

"Perfect." To Gracie, Nicole said, "You behave for Tasha and Gramps', okay? And don't bother Wanda and Pietro while they're studying." She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

"I won't, Mommy."

The front door closed, and soon, Nicole's car had pulled out of the drive. Natasha picked up Gracie's backpack, and carried it to the living room. "Where would you like to sleep, _lyubimaya_? Pietro's in your old room. Here on the sofa, in the den? We have a rollaway bed. Maybe Wanda will let you sleep in with her."

"What about the cat's room?"

"Let's see what your Gramps says." Hugging her stuffed bear, Gracie bounced on the sofa next to Natasha, her smile gone. "What's wrong?"

The girl held the bear in her arms as if it were a baby. "I didn't tell Mommy 'cause I don't want her to worry."

Whatever it was sounded serious. "Tell Mommy what?"

"Some kids at school are being mean to me 'cause I don't have a daddy. They wait 'til the teachers aren't looking, and knock me down, and call me names. The meanest one is Jerry Panabaker." Gracie looked around as if she thought they were being watched, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Mommy and Gramma said you know how to fight."

Natasha set the backpack aside, placed the stuffed bear with it, and took her hand. "I'll show you a few moves so that the next time this Jerry Panabaker and his cohorts bother you, they'll get a surprise."

Gracie's face lit up. "You're gonna teach me to _fight_?"

"Not fight, exactly. Defend is more like it. And maybe a few scathing comments to put him in his place." Natasha stood, and held out her hand. "Let's go in the back yard." They went out the back door and across the deck to the grassy area. "Any questions before we start, _lyubimaya_?

Gracie thought for a moment, and nodded. "Yes. What's a cohort?"

 **Rey's Condo**

The sky was almost fully dark when Justin let himself in the front door. He put his lunch bag in the kitchen, and went to take a shower before going in search of Rey. Normally, if she got home before he did, she would be cooking, in the living room reading, watching a movie, or involved in a hobby she'd just picked up: knitting and crocheting.

Tonight, however, she wasn't doing any of that. He spotted his duffle bags sitting in the recliner. Confused, he peeked into all the rooms, but didn't see Rey.

They took turns cooking, and tonight was her turn, but there was nothing on the stove or in the oven, though there were dirty dishes and pans in the sink. Also, Cleopatra wasn't twining around his legs, crying for attention. He checked the garage, and her SUV was there.

He found Rey on the patio wrapped in a warm sweater against the chill, sipping hot tea, and reading a book while the cat played in the grass.

Justin let himself out onto the patio, approaching Rey warily. She liked her routine, and this wasn't a part of it. "Hey. What's going on? Why are my bags in the living room?"

Rey placed a bookmark between the pages, set the book aside, took another sip of tea, and put the cup on the small table between the chairs. She stood up, and he didn't like the look on her face at all.

She slowly brought her eyes up to meet his, her expression serious, but not angry. "You know I love you, so please understand that I'm doing this for your own good, Justin."

"Doing what, Rey?"

Taking a deep breath, Rey stepped out of reach when he tried to take her hand. "I want you to move out."

 **TBC**


	83. Chapter 83

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 83**

Cleopatra quit chasing imaginary prey and ran to Justin, begging to be picked up, so he obliged her, cuddling her close while she purred. "Is this because of the ambush proposal?"

Rey chuckled and looked down at her feet. "Not specifically, though it _was_ incredibly embarrassing. It's about you being held prisoner with no say in how your life was run. I'm no psychologist, but I think it would be good for you to spend a few months living on your own, getting back into the swing of things, making all your own decisions. Here, you go to bed when I go to bed, eat when I eat, with no opinions on what the food is, even if you do the cooking. You do the laundry and clean, but only because I've asked you to. Whatever movie I choose, you're okay with watching it, unless I tell you to pick. You contribute to the household expenses without me asking, but I pay all the bills. And you even have a job now where you answer to someone else when you used to run the show.

"What it all boils down to is you need to take responsibility for yourself again. To remember what it was like before all that crap happened. And you need to get professional help. Considering what happened, I know it won't be easy to trust another psychologist, but you have to try."

He held Cleopatra a little tighter as a sliver of fear crept into his head. In the before time, Justin hadn't been afraid of much. Now, the thought of being by himself day in and day out scared him, though not to the point of phobia. He just didn't want to be alone. But if the only way he and Rey could be together as a couple was for him to move out, then he would do it.

"You can stay tonight, but tomorrow, you need to find a place to live. And not in some abandoned church or store or warehouse or on Chase's sofa. Move into an extended stay motel until you find an apartment." Justin carried the cat inside, and Rey followed. "You're angry."

"No. You're right about everything. I do need to experience being my own person again." Cleopatra wiggled, and Justin let her down. "I'll sleep in the other bedroom, and leave before you get up."

Rey moved in close, lightly dragging her palms up to his shoulders. Their eyes met, and she smiled. "You're sleeping with me tonight."

Grinning, Justin's arms encircled her waist, and pulled her close. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He picked Rey up and walked down the hall to the bedroom with her fingers playing in his hair. He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, stepped inside, and pushed it closed again. Cleopatra managed to squeeze in before it shut, taking her place on the bed next to Rey's pillow.

Justin lay down on the bed with Rey sprawled on top of him. She clamped her knees tight to his waist, grabbed handfuls of his hair, and kissed him.

~~O~~

Rey opened her eyes, thinking she'd see Justin lying face down on the other side of the bed. Instead, Cleopatra was staring at her, impatiently waiting for her to wake up. She sat up, yawned and stretched, and reached for her robe, putting it on as she went into the bathroom. When she came out, the scent of coffee drew her to the kitchen where she found a fresh pot and a clean cup.

In the living room, she saw that Justin's bags were gone. Going to the window that looked out onto the driveway told her his bike was gone as well. Apparently, Justin had taken her at her word. She also didn't find a note, and that was just fine with her.

"Reow."

Cleopatra was standing in the doorway of the second bedroom, her tail lashing side to side. "It's just us girls again." Rey ran a hand down the cat's back, and received a swat for her efforts. "Don't be such a sourpuss, Cleo. He'll be back some day. But for now, this is how it has to be."

 **Three Weeks Later**

With the new studio not yet ready for classes, Rey spent most of her time catching up on errands, knitting, crocheting, taking long runs or bike rides, and reading. She parked in the garage, and went to grab the mail, shuffling through it on the way inside. On the bottom of the stack was an envelope with neat handwriting on the front. She turned it over, and took note of the return address. It was for an apartment complex a few miles away in a decent though not great part of town. There was no name, just the address.

Curious, Rey dropped her bags, purse, and other mail in the recliner and sat on the sofa to open the strange envelope. Inside, she found a short note, also handwritten.

 _The pleasure of your company is requested next Saturday at the Wooden Horse Skating Rink, for an afternoon of roller and/or ice staking. Afterwards, dinner will be at the fast-food establishment of your choice. RSVP_

It was signed _Justin P. Lockwood, Esq._ , and was followed by his email address, which was similar to his old one.

That she hadn't heard from him in so long had worried Rey for a while. However, if anything had happened, Chase would've told her. And the fact that it wasn't a romantic dinner for two said that he'd taken her word as gospel, and wanted to make sure she understood that this was just a date.

At one time, Rey had aspirations of being an Olympic ice skater. Those hopes were dashed by the fact that she had little talent beyond the basics. Still, she couldn't see any reason not to go. Taking out her smartphone, she sent an email accepting the offer then retrieved a prescription bottle from her purse on the way to the kitchen. She swallowed one of the pills with water while deciding what to have for dinner. "Something healthy, I think."

Within a few minutes, Rey had a salad, a cup of soup, and hot tea on the table, while Cleopatra ate tuna. By the time dinner was over, Justin had responded to her reply.

 _Great! I have a class at eleven, so I'll see you there at 2pm._

 _Yours,_

 _Justin_

Wondering what kind of class he was taking, Rey added the info to her calendar, and settled in to knit while watching a movie with Cleopatra stretched out on the back of the sofa. It had taken a few days, but the cat had finally forgiven her for sending Justin away.

 **The Barnes/Romanoff/Maximoff Home**

 **Saturday Afternoon**

Moving his hands over the piano keys, Justin barely kept from wincing each time the twins sang off-key. Neither was a prodigy, but with _lots_ of training, they would get better. _Maybe we should stick to instruments and dancing_ , he thought.

Thankfully, the song ended, and the twins waited for his opinion. He stood, and came around the piano. "That was an interesting interpretation, kids." He could see by the looks on their faces he wasn't fooling them.

Wanda crossed her arms, and shifted her weight onto one foot. "If by 'interesting' you mean horrible, I would agree."

"Perhaps we should go with another aspect of music, Justin," Pietro added.

Seeing an opportunity, Justin pursed his lips to keep from smirking, remembering the bet he had with Clint while the archer was repairing the house. "Tell you what, Uncle, if you can beat me in a footrace, we'll skip the singing, and do something else."

Pietro tried to give the appearance of thinking it over, and Justin could almost see the wheels spinning inside the boy's head. He and Wanda did the twin thing, nodding at the same time. "You have a deal, nephew."

The trio went out the front door. "Here's what we're gonna do. Cross the street, jump the fence, through the field and the grove of trees, around the pond to the Taco Casita on Juniper Street, and back. And to prove you didn't cheat, take a selfie with the store's mascot." The men readied themselves. "We go on Wanda's mark."

Moving around to stand in front and between them, Wanda raised her hands. "Get ready! And… go!"

~~O~~

Wanda watched Pietro and Justin as they disappeared into the trees, counted to ten, and Pietro was beside her again, grinning. "What is the saying, brother?"

"Candy from a baby?"

"Yes, that one. Let's see the photo."

Pietro took out his phone, holding it out for her to see. "It's one of my best so far."

Seconds later, Justin came pounding through the field, and leapt over the fence, stumbling to a stop by the mailbox, barely winded. "How did you…"

With a grin, Pietro showed him the photo. "Let's see yours." The twins laughed because Justin had cut off the right side of his face, though you could still tell it was him. Beside him was the store's mascot: a statue of a man in a sombrero riding a donkey bareback, and holding a giant taco. He hung his head in defeat. "Don't know how you did it, but you won. No more singing. Next class," he plucked a flower from the garden, clamped it between his teeth, and struck a pose, "we dance." Justin's phone beeped. He tossed the flower, one of the last of the summer, into the garden for compost. "I gotta shower and change for a date. Mind if I use your bathroom?"

Wanda led the way inside. "Please do. Clean towels are in the linen closet." Then she thought about what he said. "A date? But I thought you were engaged to your girlfriend."

Sighing, Justin put on a sad face, and placed a hand on his heart. "Alas, my intended has declined my offer of marriage, and vanquished me from her home."

"And you're already dating another woman?" Pietro asked curiously.

"Not really. My date's with Rey. Hoping she'll change her mind soon." He looked at the time, and ran up the stairs. "Gotta go."

The bathroom door closed behind him, and the water came on. Wanda sent Pietro a ping. He chuckled, and said, "I agree, sister. Our father is sixty-seven years older than our mother, who is known as the Black Widow, our niece is married to Captain America, one nephew is dating his manager, the other came out as gay when he was fifteen, and is now in love with a woman who has declined his marriage proposal, and kicked him out of her home, _and_ we have five cats. Never in our lives did I think we'd ever be a part of such an odd family."

 **Iris' Home**

 **Early Evening**

Chase was reading from an eReader, but couldn't keep his mind on the plot. Iris had her head in his lap and was reading a hardback novel. Since Labor Day, they'd spent several nights a week together, and it wasn't just about the sex. Though they got plenty of that in as well, most of their time consisted of cozy little domestic scenes like this. Reading together, watching television, cooking, and him pushing her in the wheelchair as they took a long walk down to the dog park where they let Dakota off his lead for a while.

About the second week, Chase realized that this is what had been missing in all his previous relationships. They'd all been about physical attraction, sex, and more sex. But sex without the emotional element was like ice cream without the toppings, hot chocolate without marshmallows, Lucy without Ethel. It just wouldn't last.

He slid out from under Iris' head, replacing his lap with a small pillow. He then went to the stereo system and put on soothing jazz suitable for slow dancing, and dimmed the lights, evoking an annoyed, "Hey!"

"There's a method to my madness, my dear." Chase moved the coffee table, took Iris' book, and set it on the end table while she sat up. Taking hold of her hands, he helped her stand. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Chase gripped her narrow waist. "Dance with me."

She looked skeptical. "I haven't danced since before my accident."

"Then it's long past time. Put your feet on top of mine." He waited while she did as he asked. "Hold on." Chase wrapped his arms around Iris, swaying gently side to side in his stocking feet on the hardwood floor. When she got used to the movement, he altered the pattern, moving them around in a circle. Their eyes stayed locked, and soon, Iris' lost her fear of falling and relaxed. That she went along with his "madness" showed a strong level of trust.

Iris closed her eyes, and rested her head on his shoulder as he continued to move around the room. Then, the music stopped momentarily, and when it came back on, the song made him laugh. The tempo was a little faster than before.

Chase placed one arm around Iris' waist, and held her hand in the classic dance pose, exaggerating the steps, and making Iris laugh as he spun them around. "Chase!"

 _Casey would_ _waltz_ _with a_ _strawberry blonde_

 _And the band played on._

 _He'd glide 'cross the floor with the girl he adored_

 _And the band played on._

 _But_ _his brain was so loaded_ _it nearly exploded;_

 _The poor girl would shake with alarm._

 _He'd ne'er leave the girl with the strawberry curls_

 _And the band played on._

She squealed in alarm as he leaned her back in a deep dip, and brought her upright, making her head spin. "Now isn't that more fun than reading some dusty old book?"

Breathing slow and steady, Iris deliberately stepped off his feet, and removed his arms from around her waist, but kept hold of his hands. "Got a surprise for you."

Intrigued, Chase waited for the big reveal. Iris moved back a couple of steps while watching her feet. She looked him in the eye, and deliberately let go. She motioned for him to move away, and he did though he stayed ready in case he needed catch her. When they were about three yards apart, Iris held her hand up, and he stopped.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. One slow step at a time, Iris walked toward Chase without losing her balance, until they were inches apart.

Stunned, Chase's jaw dropped. "You-you're walking! Iris, that's fantastic."

She swayed, and he rushed to catch her before she fell, holding on as they returned to the sofa. "The strength in my legs started coming back a few weeks ago. The day after the barbeque, as a matter of fact."

As that was their first time being intimate, Chase couldn't help the smug grin that turned up one side of his mouth. "It's easy to explain, babe." He swept her into his arms, joining their mouths as they lay on the sofa, and he cuddled her close. "It's that old Lockwood magic."

Iris giggled at the seriousness of his tone with an underlying layer of humor. "Lockwood magic, huh? Probably just a coincidence."

Chase maneuvered them around until he was on his back with her lying along the length of his body. "It was me and my magic wand."

She laughed again, and lay her head on his chest, pillowed on her arms. "Oh, my gosh! You're ridiculous."

His eyes opened wide. " _I'm_ ridiculous? Seriously?" Before Iris could utter a protest, if she had one, Chase was on his feet with her in his arms, and striding down the hall toward her bedroom.

"Chase! What're you doing?"

"Proving you wrong." The door slammed behind them, leaving Dakota to stand guard as Chase put her on the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it in a corner, undid the front of his pants, and kicked them away. "First, I'm gonna cast a few spells," he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs, pushed them down to his ankles, and stepped out of them, standing before her in nothing but a smile and pair of socks, "then I'll use my magic wand on you until you beg me to stop."

Rising up on her elbows, Iris watched his body react as her smoldering gaze raked him from head to foot and back. One eyebrow inched upward, and was joined by a smirk as she lay down with her head on the pillow. Her hands made short work of unbuttoning her top. She spread the sides, letting him see that she was bare underneath, and had been the entire time they were together. "Show me what you got, oh Great… and Powerfulllll… Ozzz."

She drew each word out in a husky rumble, prolonging the torture, until Chase could take no more, and joined her on the bed.

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Midnight**

Against her better judgment, Rey agreed to spend the night with Justin in his new place. It was small, the bedroom barely big enough to accommodate a double bed without a frame and a battered dresser, but it was his. He didn't have a pet, and personally, she thought it would do him good to have a cat or a dog to keep him company, but it was his choice, and she wouldn't voice an opinion either way. Let him come to the decision on his own.

She got up to go to the bathroom, and when done, she stood in the bedroom doorway watching him sleep. Earlier, he'd been having another of his nightmares, and she'd done what she could to comfort him. However, as she told him before, he needed more than she could provide. He had to stop depending on her for comfort, and seek out a professional.

Tiptoeing around the room, Rey picked up her clothes, and went into the other room to get dressed. She wrote him a short note, laid it on the bedside table, and let herself out. While the SUV's engine warmed up, she sent an email to Chase concerning his twin's nightmares, leaving it up to him to take care of the situation. Surely someone in the family, or even a friend, knew an ethical psychologist who would take him on.

At home, Rey took a pill with water, changed into her pajamas, and went to bed with Cleopatra curled up next to the pillow.

 **Sunday Afternoon**

On his way home from the gym, Chase made a call to Mia. "Hey, cuz. How's college life treating you?"

" _Same as always. Not enough hours to study, go to my job, eat, sleep,_ _and_ _maintain a busy social life. What's up?_ "

"Are you still seeing Sam?"

Mia chuckled. " _When I have time._ _Why?_ "

He stopped at the light, and signaled for a turn. "Does he still work at the VA?"

" _Yeah. On the downlow since the HYDRA thing_."

"Think he could have a talk with Justin?"

Chase heard Mia moving around her apartment. " _I'll see what I can do. I'm thinking Justin might be more comfortable in a group. Less chance of the shrink going all HYDRA-fied on his ass like the last one. Gramps might be able to pull some strings and get him in at the VA_."

Braking to a stop in his driveway, Chase shut off the engine, grabbed his gym bag, and got out. "Thanks. Appreciate it. I'll give Justin a head's up, and even go to the first couple of sessions with him, if he wants."

" _What happened to his lady friend? Why can't_ _she_ _hold his hand?_ "

He let himself in the front door, tossed his bag in a chair, and went to the kitchen for water. "They're keeping it low-key for the same reason I called. There's only so much you can fix with a hug and fantastic sex."

His cousin laughed. " _Mmm. You got that right. But, hey, it's fun trying, right?_ "

" _Not_ going there with you. I have to go. Take it easy, cuz."

This time, Mia snorted. " _Take it any way I can get it,_ _cuz_."

Chase hit end over Mia's laughter at her own slightly crude joke. Shaking his head, he went into the second bedroom and turned on his computer to check email. He was on call for IT support this weekend so his employees could have some much deserved time off.

 **Stark Tower**

 **The Penthouse**

Sipping scotch and staring out over the night sky of Manhattan, Tony let his mind drift. And as always, it drifted to Pepper. She'd called, and asked him to have dinner with her here, in the penthouse they used to share. He'd agreed, and the night went off like clockwork, all the way up to when Pepper asked to spend the night. "Yes" had been on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it, and his hesitation had caused an argument.

 _Are you seeing someone else?_

He'd tried to play it off, inject humor into a non-humorous situation. _If by seeing you mean…_

Pepper huffed, a scowl crinkling her smooth forehead. _Are you sleeping with another woman? Or is it women?_ She turned away, and crossed her arms. _I really thought you'd changed, Tony. That you'd gotten away from your playboy past. That being with me…_

 _You_ _did_ _change me. It's… I can't really explain my thought processes at the moment._

 _Because I'm too stupid to comprehend?_ She picked up her purse. _Jarvis, call Happy. I'm ready to leave_. Her last words were so cold, Tony suppressed a shiver. _Go back to your lab, Tony. And when you're ready to be an adult, call me._

The elevator door opened, and Pepper got on. Tony held the doors to keep them from closing. _I'm not sleeping with anyone, Pep._ _You're_ _the one I want_.

 _Well, you sure don't act like it_. She pushed his hand out of the way. _On second thought, I'll call you_.

Tony had wanted to tell her the truth, but wasn't sure she could handle it. He didn't know many who could without having a breakdown, going off the rails, or just plain denial. What he needed was advice from someone he could trust. He went to the holotable. "Jarvis, open a line to Agent Romanoff."

" _Of course, sir_."

It only took moments for a hologram of Natasha to pop up, hovering over the table. She covered a yawn as she scooted close to the camera. As always, her hair and face were flawless though he had to have gotten her out of bed. " _Tony. You don't_ _look_ _drunk, so why are you making late-night phone calls?_ "

He couldn't stand still. Had to keep his feet moving. "Remember Disney World? You said I hadn't been myself since the surgery, and asked if Pepper and I had a fight." Natasha didn't say anything, and strangely, that gave him the courage to go on. "You're right about both. Only it's worse than a fight. Much worse." Tony rubbed his hands together, and finally faced Natasha, feeling like a lost puppy. "Pepper is… she, uh, she… died."

Stunned, Natasha leaned back, shock making her eyes go wide. " _What?! When did it happen?_ _How_ _did it happen? Was it an accident? Was she sick?_ "

He sat back, and crossed his arms. "New Year's Day."

Natasha shook her head. " _But we had lunch last month, and she seemed fine._ "

"She _was_ fine because that's how she's _programmed_. To be indistinguishable from the original." Tony sat heavily in a chair, slumped down on his spine, and covered his eyes with one hand. "Which is probably why she suggested we take a break."

" _What the hell are you saying? Tony!_ "

Rubbing the hand over his eyes down his face, Tony looked Natasha in the eye so she would know he was being serious, and not pulling some elaborate prank, for which she'd probably kill him. "Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, the woman _you_ had lunch with last month, is a life-model decoy."

 **TBC**

 _The Band Played On_ , also known by its refrain as _Casey Would Waltz with a Strawberry Blonde_ , was a popular song written in 1895 with lyrics by John F. Palmer and music by Charles B. Ward.


	84. Chapter 84

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 84**

" _On the bright side, she's no longer allergic to strawberries, but still won't eat them._ "

Natasha blinked, unable to comprehend what Tony was saying because it didn't seem real. She also didn't appreciate his gallows humor. "Are you telling me LMDs are a real thing?"

" _That's_ _what I'm saying_." In the lower right of the screen, a video popped up, showing a roomful of men and one woman as their bodies glowed with the reddish-orange of dying embers. They screamed in pain as a blond man shouted for everyone to get out just ahead of a massive explosion. Tony pointed at the video. " _That_ _is Extremis. Or was. Killian and Hansen were so close to the solution for providing stability, and given a little more time, they might've done it. Killian got impatient after his dubious success in curing his own disability without taking into account the random and recessive genetic factors of each individual…_ "

"Don't need the details now, Tony," she told him. "You told us that Pepper had been cured, that the effects of Extremis had been neutralized so she could lead a normal life, and not listed as an Inhuman."

Tony leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking older than his forty-four years. " _I lied, obviously. Could you come to New York to hear the rest?_ "

In her mind, Natasha had already made plans to do just that. "I can be there in the morning."

The sigh of relief, and almost-smile of thanks tore at her heart. " _I'll have a plane waiting at Dulles. Seven good for you?_ "

Natasha inclined her head. "Yes." Without another word, she ended the call, turned off the computer, and returned to bed. Most other people would've been kept awake after hearing such devastating news, but she wasn't most people. She was asleep within moments.

 **In the Morning**

Natasha showered, and dressed, grabbed her go-bag from the closet, and left James and the twins a note telling them she had to go out of town and would call them later. She took an Uber to Dulles, and arrived at JFK less than ninety minutes after take-off. Tony had a car waiting, allowing Natasha to nap on the drive to Stark Tower.

Upon arrival, she got in the lift, and pressed the button for the penthouse, and was greeted by Jarvis. " _Welcome back, Agent Romanoff. How was your flight?_ "

"Uneventful, thank you. Would you inform Mr. Stark that I'm here?"

" _I have already done so, Miss_."

The lift came to a stop, and she shot through the doors before they'd completely opened, tossing her bag on one of the sofas. "Tony?" She found him on the balcony, leaning on the railing with a glass in hand. The door opened as she approached. Jarvis's doing, no doubt. "Should you be drinking this early? And don't give me that crap about it being five o'clock somewhere."

Tony finished off the drink, and turned to face her. "One, it _is_ five o'clock somewhere. And two, it's not scotch. Switched to infused water after we spoke. Pepper's idea. You know, before…"

Taking his hand, Natasha urged him to sit on a chaise lounge with his feet up, and she sat on the edge near his knees. "You had more to tell me, Tony. What is it?"

"It's more show than tell. Or show _then_ tell. I need to shower and change first or they won't let me in."

"In where?"

Tony set his glass on the table and stood. "Wait here, and help yourself to breakfast." She followed him inside, and though there were many questions ready to spill out, Natasha kept them to herself as he disappeared down the hall to the quarters he used to share with Pepper.

Natasha was just finishing an English muffin with blackberry preserves when Tony returned, looking and smelling better. The toaster popped. She added preserves to the muffin, and he ate it on the way to the lift. He opened a hidden panel, punched in a code, and the lift descended through the tall building. Unlike when she arrived, none of the floor numbers lit up.

The lift came to a stop, and they got out. Natasha followed Tony down a long hallway to a secured door. Here, he pressed his hand to a scanner, punched in yet another code, and the door opened onto a room filled with white hazmat suits in all sizes. "If you're packing heat, it needs to stay behind."

Knowing he was watching, Natasha divested herself of every weapon she kept hidden on her person. With a deadpan expression, she laid her wallet on the counter. "The only 'heat' I'm packing is my credit cards."

They put on suits, booties, gloves, and surgical masks, and passed through a small chamber that blasted them with a decontamination spray.

The room's walls and floors were pristine white. In the center, surrounded by equipment that gleamed as if just polished, was a hospital bed. As Natasha drew closer, she knew who was in the bed, but it didn't lessen the shock of seeing Pepper attached to machines that monitored her vital signs and did her breathing for her.

~~O~~

"Told you she was dead, but she might as well be." Natasha followed Tony's gaze to a camera in the corner, letting her know that they were being watched. "During the stabilization process, Pepper fell into a deep coma after a series of aneurysms due to an inherent weakness in the blood vessels. She may have gone the rest of her life without a problem. It also damaged her immune system, making her vulnerable to infection. That's the reason for the zoot suits."

"And the LMD. If the world knew that the CEO of Stark Industries was in a vegetative state, stocks would plummet. The company could go under."

Tony moved over to a chair, and sat down. "Thousands of people who rely on SI for their livelihood would be out of work, and with the company's funds depleted, I'd have no way to help them until they could find work." Their eyes met. "So you see, the decision to create an LMD of Pepper wasn't motivated by personal desire. Not completely."

"It wasn't your fault, Tony."

"Damn right! It was Killian's, and if _she_ hadn't killed him, I'd've done it myself because it was the only way to stop him."

Standing at the bedside, Natasha took in Pepper's gaunt features. She had always been slender. Since the events in the shipyard, she'd lost weight, and her body now appearing skeletal. "Why are you keeping her hooked up to machines? She wouldn't want this."

Tony jumped up, pacing angrily. "You think I don't _know_ that? The LMD needs periodic reboots, downloads from the original, to keep working at optimum capacity. When it's time, she calls to have dinner with me, and that's the memory she takes with her. And because her thought processes are identical to Pepper's, sometimes she calls when she's lonely, needs to talk, or wants comfort." He stopped on the other side of the bed. "Last night, she came to dinner. Afterward, she wanted to spend the night. And because sleeping with _her_ would be all kinds of weird, she now thinks I'm getting my jollies all over town."

"You're _sure_ Killian's dead?"

"Pretty sure. Why?"

Abruptly, Natasha headed for the door with Tony on her heels. "That's too bad, because I really need to kill something right now."

In the decontamination room, they removed their hazmat suits, and shoved them in the biohazard bin. "Believe me the feeling won't go away no matter how much scotch you drink, how deep you throw yourself into your work, how many times you beat the _crap_ out of Happy in the boxing ring, or how much shit you blow up with your arc reactor."

His comment brought to mind the first time they met, and how she'd effortlessly taken the chauffer, a man twice her size, down. For the first time since her arrival, both of them smiled at the memory. "Does Happy know?"

"No, and I don't _want_ him to know. He'd go around looking like an abandoned puppy, and when Pep asked him why, he'd tell her."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up. "The man does wear his heart on his sleeve. And he's completely devoted to Pepper." They got in the lift, and returned to the penthouse. "There's nothing that can be done?"

Tony let out an exasperated sigh. "I've had the top men and women in the field examine her, and they all say the same thing: I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but…"

"…there's nothing we can do."

"Right. They also can't tell me if she's in pain."

Taking Tony's hand, Natasha led him to the sofa, and sat beside him. "Some people would spout the platitude about changing places if you could, but that's not you, Tony. You'd settle for nothing less than a status quo."

"It's scary how you know me so well, Romanoff."

"It's what I do, Stark," she told him truthfully. "Bruce knows."

Tony reclaimed his hand, using it to point a finger at her. "Again, scary. He does." He reached for the phone next to him, entered a code, and Natasha's phone beeped. "Those are the codes to get into the lab. Jarvis will show you the way while I take a nap."

Soon, she found herself standing outside Bruce's lab. Through the window, she saw him moving around, a stylus clamped in his teeth as he entered info into the tablet. Occasionally, he would stop to examine a piece of equipment then move on.

Instead of using the code, Natasha knocked to get Bruce's attention. He looked up, and his features lit up with a smile, his brown eyes twinkling. He gestured for her to join him, and when the door closed behind her, he came forward to give her a peck on the cheek. "Good to see you, Tasha." They put appropriate distance between them as they moved over to the small sofa that bore the unmistakable imprint of a body having slept there on numerous occasions, bringing to mind the times she'd come here to visit.

Mentally shaking her head at the fact that Bruce would have some of the clichéd traits of an absentminded scientist, they sat side by side. "You too, but not under these circumstances."

He nodded sagely. "Ah. Tony told you about Pepper, and you've come for my expert opinion on her prognosis."

"Yes." Natasha held out a hand. "Not that I don't trust Tony, but he's more emotionally invested in her welfare than either of us."

"If he was going to confide in someone, I thought it'd be Rhodey."

Shrugging one shoulder, Natasha glanced at the digital wall clock. "Can we do the short version? James and I are taking the kids away for a long weekend."

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

 **Evening**

The engine shut off, Chase got out of the SUV, and leaned down to look at his passenger, who hadn't even opened the door. He pointed at the building. "It's in there."

Justin avoided looking at him. "I've changed my mind. Let's come back next week."

Resting his arm on the upper door frame, Chase held in a sigh. "Sam and Gramps went to a lot of trouble getting you this gig. They're gonna be pissed if you blow it." Justin still didn't move. Chase closed the driver's door, went around to the passenger side, and opened that door. "You want Rey back, don't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Going inside is the only way to make that happen. It's not AA. There are no twelve-step programs for PTSD." Chase stepped back, and Justin finally got out. He closed and locked the doors, and pocketed the keys. His brother stood there watching the other people going inside. "Are you going to walk, or make me carry you?" Normally, Justin had a smartass remark just waiting to pop out, accompanied by that smug grin of his. Not tonight, though. "This role reversal thing we've got going on is kinda weird."

"Role reversal?"

Chase put a hand in the middle of Justin's back, using it to urge him forward, and soon he didn't have to push. "Yeah. You're usually the confident, devil-may-care twin, and I'm the neurotic. Now, it's the other way around. Not sure I like it."

"Yeah, well, it's not the top of _my_ bucket list either." When they got close, Justin stopped. "Exactly how much do I have to tell these people? Does it have to be the truth, or can I make up a plausible lie?"

He snorted a laugh. "Lying doesn't go over well in these situations, or so I'm told." They started walking again. "Tell them the truth, and if they don't believe it, go with one of the other 'truths' you dreamed up."

The brothers went inside, their footsteps echoing in the long hallway down to the food court. Vending machines lined one wall. Across from them was a water cooler, coffee maker, sink, refrigerator, microwaves, and cabinets. Men and women of all ages, races, and sizes sat at tables looking uncomfortable and awkward, or stood talking by the coffee machine.

Justin chose a table away from the one where a fortyish man in a sport jacket was talking to a younger woman in shorts and a polo shirt. Chase leaned down to whisper, "Wait here. I'll get us drinks and snacks. And don't worry, bro. They don't usually call on you the first day except to ask your name. _That_ you can lie about, if you want."

Chase returned with two bottles of Coke, chips, and Oreos. He took a seat to Justin's right, trying to look invisible.

"Good evening, everyone. For the new members of our group, my name is Dr. Rutledge. We only use first names here, to keep it confidential. Let's go around the room, and everyone introduce yourselves. You don't have to say why you're here, just your name." He nodded to the brothers. "Would you like to start us off, boys?"

Reluctantly, Justin waved a hand, offering up a tentative smile. "Hi. Name's Finn."

The rest of the attendees chorused, "Hi, Finn."

The doctor made a quick notation, and looked up. "And you, sir?"

Chase pointed at himself. "Me? Oh, I'm just here to provide support for this guy." He slapped Justin on the back harder than he should've, and his brother glared back.

"This so-called support doesn't extend to giving your name?"

Realizing he was caught in a trap, Chase leaned back, barely reacting when Justin kicked him under the table. "Garrett. I'm Finn's brother."

Rutledge smiled knowingly. "Ah, but you're more than just brothers, aren't you?"

Grinning sheepishly, Chase pointed a finger at the man. "You got us. We're twins."

"Fraternal," Justin added unnecessarily. He leaned back and rested his right ankle on the left knee. "I'm the older and better looking twin."

This was an old bit, and Chase did his part by adding, " _And_ the most delusional," netting him laughter from the room. As the roll call continued, Chase muttered under his breath, "Goober."

Finally regaining some of his humor, Justin replied, "Troglodyte."

 **The Barton Farm**

 **Columbia, Washington**

They'd been off the highway for about twenty minutes when Natasha abruptly pulled over and stopped. Bucky knew what was going on. They just had to clue in Wanda and Pietro.

Natasha turned as far as the seatbelt would allow, putting on her serious face. "Kids, when we get to your Uncle Clint's, you're going to learn more about him than anyone outside your father and me. Not even Steve knows what's going on."

Bucky shared a look with his wife. "If anyone asks where you've been this weekend, tell them you visited your Uncle Clint, but that's it. You can talk about his house, what you ate, the adventures you had, what a cool uncle he is, but nothing else. Got it?"

Before the twins could ask any of the questions he saw in their eyes, Natasha faced forward again, put the rental in drive, and pulled back onto the road. As she turned onto the narrow dirt road that wound through trees and past a huge pond, the barn and farmhouse came into sight.

Clint had upgraded his cattle guard and gate to something called a bump gate. Natasha drove up to it, and tapped the gate with the front bumper. It swung open, she drove through, and the gate closed behind them. When they first visited, it had been snowing, and the gentleman his mother raised him to be, Bucky had gotten out to open and close the gate.

Natasha parked near the woodpile. The front door opened, and Clint stepped out onto the porch, waiting for them to join him with a huge smile of welcome.

Bucky and the twins followed in Natasha's wake as she rushed up the steps to hug Clint and kiss him on the cheek.

"You guys made good time." The men shook hands, with Clint looking past him at the kids. "Good to see you again, James."

"Thanks for inviting us, Clint."

Bucky and Natasha urged the kids forward, Natasha making the introductions. "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, this my best friend, Clint Barton. Clint, our children, Wanda and Pietro."

If possible, Clint's smile got even wider as he shook the kids' hands. "Great to finally meet you. Your mom has been bragging about you since before the adoption was final." He opened the front door, and ushered everyone in, letting the kids go ahead. The smile went away, and Clint whispered, "You talked to them, right?"

"Just to say that anything that happens here is confidential. They can't even tell Steve."

Inside, Wanda and Pietro were standing in the middle of the living room looking at the toys and clothes scattered on the floor and kids' books on the coffee table with great curiosity. Bucky followed Wanda's stare to where a seven-inch toy T-Rex sat on the window sill.

Clint winked and grinned as he passed. "Honey! They're here!" His announcement was immediately followed by children's voices, and they were joined by a boy and a girl. A tall, slender woman was right behind them. He put an arm around her shoulders. "Wanda, Pietro, this is my wife, Laura. The kids are Cooper and Lila." To the younger kids, he said, "Say hi to Aunt Nat's new son and daughter, kids."

~~O~~

Standing with Clint and Laura, Natasha watched the children interact. They were fascinated by Wanda and Pietro's accents, especially Lila. Clint tapped her on the shoulder. She took her husband's hand, and the adults went into the kitchen.

Laura went back to preparing dinner while Clint got out glasses, add ice, and filled them with lemonade. Without being asked, Natasha picked up a knife and started cutting up vegetables.

"A little shy, aren't they, Nat?" Clint asked in a conversational tone.

"At first, maybe. They'll open up when they get to know everyone."

There was a crash from the living room. Without moving, all four shouted, "Outside, kids!" A moment later, the front door slammed, and all was quiet again.

Clint could see that Natasha wanted to speak to him alone. He touched Laura on the small of her back. "Honey, let me do that while you and James take the drinks out to the kids?"

Laura laid the knife down, and kissed him. "You're the best. Thanks."

Clint's wife and Bucky put the glasses on a tray, and Bucky carried it out the back door. As soon as they were alone, he brought up a subject he knew his best friend wouldn't want to talk about. "Did you tell him yet?"

"No, and I'm not going to. He doesn't remember any of the things he did as the Winter Soldier, and telling him wouldn't be in anyone's best interest. Especially not his. He's finally getting over the nightmares, and I don't want it to be an every-night thing again."

"What's going on?"

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, and though they were alone, she still lowered her voice. "He had a doozy a few nights ago. Scared the _piss_ out of the kids. They thought he was beating me."

A snort popped out before Clint could stop it. "As if. You'd take him out…"

"Maybe not. Remember the helicarrier?"

He pointed the knife at her. "Right. I, uh, didn't tell you this before because…"

Heavy footsteps thumped on the porch, telling them Bucky was coming back inside. "Later. He's coming. Do _not_ bring that subject up again. I mean it, Clint." As if they were in the middle of a very different conversation, Natasha asked, "What's the progress on baby number three?"

" _Zero_ progress." He grinned. "But we're having fun trying. If it's a girl, we're naming her after you."

"Hmph. That's what you said about Lila."

The vegetables were scraped off the cutting boards into a colander, and Clint rinsed them under cold water. "Lila Murphy was Laura's best friend. When she died of breast cancer, she didn't have a family, and we wanted to do something to honor her memory."

~~O~~

When Bucky reached the dining room, he got the feeling he'd interrupted a private conversation between the friends. That they'd been talking about something they either didn't want him to know about, or was confidential to their jobs was a given. Not for the first time, he wondered if Cooper and Lila had any idea what their father and aunt did for a living. The kids had made references to Clint going out of town for business, but didn't appear to know or care why, as long as he called while he was away, and was home when he said he'd be.

That's the same attitude Bucky learned to cultivate when he and Natasha became a couple. If he let it bother him, he'd worry himself sick every time she left, or be consumed with jealousy. Like this last time. She'd gone to New York, and returned in less than forty-eight hours. As always, she said nothing about her trip except that the flights were bearable, and that she'd made a stop at Stark Tower to talk to Tony and Bruce.

Natasha once told him that Clint made a call home just before each mission, whether with the Avengers, with Natasha, or alone, speaking in code so no one at SHIELD would catch on that he had a secret family.

He turned at the sound of laughter in the yard, and looked out the window to see Clint's kids playing with the twins. They were chasing a ball around the yard, and throwing it at each other with Laura looking on. Life here was simpler than in the city. Every so often, James got the urge to move to the country, but that would take him away from the rest of the family. With Justin back, they all had to get to know him again.

Turning to go back to the kitchen, Bucky felt a sharp pain in his mid-section, reminding him of when he used to get heartburn from too much Jungle Curry. But that was before Zola and his experiments. The feeling was gone in seconds, with no lingering aftereffects. Dismissing the incident, he joined Natasha and Clint in the kitchen. "Smells good."

Showing a smirk over her shoulder, Natasha casually commented. "Meh. Clint's an okay cook."

"Hey! I'm better than okay." He shrugged sheepishly. "No one's gotten sick from _my_ cooking."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha rinsed her hands and dried them on the apron she was wearing. "For the last time, Clint, you got food poisoning from the _clams_ , not how they were prepared."

"Oh, hey," Clint said when he pretended to just then see Bucky. "How're the kids getting along?"

"Great, Clint. That Lila's a hoot. Reminds me of Gracie."

In a split second, Natasha's good humor was gone. "Now that I have you both here, let's talk about my trip to New York."

Clint took down a salad bowl, and went to the refrigerator to take out the makings of a salad. "What's Stark's problem _this_ time?"

"You know he and Pepper are on a break."

"Yeah. What of it?"

Natasha washed the knives, set them near the cutting boards, and faced both men with her arms crossed. "Turns out there's a good reason for the break," she made a dramatic pause, "and it's not what you'd think."

 **TBC**


	85. Chapter 85

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 85**

James went to stand with Natasha. "I don't think anything, babe. I know _him_ , but never met his girl."

"Whatever the reason," Clint speculated, "I'm sure they'll be back together soon."

His wife shook her head sadly. "Not likely, and I'll tell you why, as long as it doesn't go beyond this room. Not even Cap can know."

 **Early Morning**

Wanda gathered clothes to wear, and tip-toed from the room she shared with Lila, going down the hall to the bathroom to get dressed.

Out in the yard, she sat down on the wood pile, just watching the clouds. Most were the white, puffy kind. Others were shades of gray that signaled that rain might be on the way though none had been forecast.

After Cooper and Lila were asleep, Pietro had sent a ping through their link to see if she was still awake. They spent some time talking about Clint's family, and the fact that they couldn't talk about their existence, even to one of Natasha's best friends.

* _If they're friends, then why doesn't Steve know about his wife and children?_ *

** _Because of the work they do, it could be dangerous if their enemies found out about them._ **

Pietro had scoffed. * _They're Avengers. Wouldn't they stop them before it could happen?_ *

** _They might not hear about the threat until too late. Even_ _you_ _can't be everywhere at once, brother._ **

They'd gone to sleep after that, and Wanda had woken up thinking about all the things they didn't know about their mother. Yes, they knew she was the Black Widow. Had known that going in. It had been a deciding factor in choosing her and Bucky in the first place.

And though they continued to make plans to destroy Tony Stark, they often spoke about finding another way of going about it, not wanting to hurt Natasha, Bucky, or any of the family. Wanda also had wondered how they could go from using their new parents to further their schemes to caring that they'd be hurt by an act of revenge.

Or maybe it wasn't so difficult to explain. Each time they brought up another aspect of their lives as a family, Wanda could sense that Natasha and James were genuine in their caring. No pretenses. Their parents truly wanted her and her brother to feel loved and cared for. At Clint's admission, she and her brother had felt shame for their own thoughts, and privately, she wanted to make up for something they hadn't done yet.

Suddenly, Clint was next to her, and she jumped. Wanda had neither heard nor sensed his presence until he sat beside her on the logs. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Wanda answered truthfully. "Yes, it is, though I prefer the city." She clasped her hands together and wrapped them around her knees pulling them to her chest. "Then again, one day, when I'm older, I will maybe appreciate the simpler things in life."

Clint looked at the ground in front of him while rubbing his hands together, trying to hide his amusement. "Go ahead. Take a stab at my age, why don't you?" He patted her on the shoulder. "What say you help me feed the animals?"

Getting to her feet, Wanda brushed the bark from the seat of her pants. "I would love to." A thought occurred to her. "They don't _bite_ , do they?"

He chuckled as he opened the small door to the right of the larger ones. "Sometimes."

Gazing around the huge building, Wanda took all the sights, smells, and sounds. Musky and clean at the same time. The second floor only covered half the barn, and was filled with rectangular bundles of dried grass. A green and yellow tractor squatted in one corner near several battered tool boxes.

On one wall, someone had hung old license plates from several states. In a dark corner, she could see a ladder, drink bottles, a bowling ball, an old store sign, and other, unidentifiable objects. More wood and the bundles of dried grass were on the other side.

Down the walkway to the left were pens with animals in them. As she drew near, they stuck their heads out, curious about this stranger who'd invaded their home.

A door off to the side stood open, and inside, Wanda could see saddles, bridles, blankets, and other items she supposed were for riding horses.

Clint came out of yet another room carrying several buckets. He set them on the ground and went back for more, holding out a bucket for her to take. "Go around the side to the chicken coop. Open the door so the chickens can get out, and throw handfuls of the feed on the ground. After that, come back for the basket, and you can gather the eggs. I'll take care of the rest. If you have any questions, give a shout."

"I will." Out in the yard, Wanda located the coop, and unlatched the door. From what she remembered from movies and television, the chickens were closed in at night to prevent predators from killing them. She stood back so the animals could come out then spread the feed, and watched them peck at the ground. At this point, she decided that farm life was not for her.

She carried the bucket into the barn, exchanged it for the basket, and went to gather the eggs. Clint came out at the same time she returned from her task. "What do we do now?"

"Fill the water troughs, and when they're done eating, turn the animals loose to roam around. The horses go in the corral." He watched her with a side eye as he unwound the hose and dragged it over to huge metal tubs. "Ever ride a horse, Wanda?"

She shook her head. "Never."

Clint looked up at the sky. The clouds were getting darker, and the breeze had gotten stronger. "If the weather cooperates, wanna go for a ride after lunch? We can take Pietro."

"I will ask him." Wanda took the hose, and held it over the next trough. "You seem so accepting of two strangers who are now living with your best friend and her husband."

He smiled at her, turned off the water, and wound the hose in loops over his hand. "My parents died when I was six. The foster system kept trying to separate me and my brother. To stay together, we ran away to join the circus. I was ten. In the carnie business, you learn to read people, develop instincts, or you don't last long."

Wanda leaned against the side of the barn. "What do your instincts tell you about Pietro and myself?"

The long, unblinking stare reminded her of Natasha, and it made her want to squirm under his scrutiny.

"Nat and James have a lot of love to give, and you should be honored that they want to share it with you. On the other hand, you and your brother are in need of someone who cares unconditionally about your welfare. Just remember, _net khuda bez dobra_. Know what I'm saying?"

" _Da_. Our relationships are new, like a blooming flower, and eventually, the flower will wilt, but it always comes back. As much as we are enjoying this time of getting to know them, the family and their friends, with few responsibilities, James and Natasha have already told us that we will be expected to help with the chores, and attend school from home. That is taking the bad with the good?"

"It is." Clint waved. Wanda picked up the egg basket, and followed him back to the house. "Because we're the first ones up, we're going to make breakfast."

"I have not yet learned to cook."

His smile faded to what some would call carefully controlled irritation. "Your foster parents didn't teach you?"

" _Nyet_. Like you and your brother, Pietro and I ran away when there was talk of separating us. We could not allow that to happen." Clint opened the back door, and followed her in. "Does your brother live nearby?"

As Clint turned away, she saw sadness in his eyes that was gone just as quickly. "Barney died a long time ago."

Tentatively, Wanda touched him on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Keeping his face averted, Clint took down a bowl, grabbed a whisk from the drawer, found a skillet under the cabinet, and set it all on the counter. "He got in with a bad crowd after he left the circus." He motioned her over, and gave her a knife. "Cut up the green peppers, onions, and tomatoes while I do the leftover ham, and crack the eggs."

Not having done it before, Wanda wasn't sure what to do. Clint saw, and demonstrated how to seed the green peppers, peel the onions, and take the core from the tomatoes. "There. Now cut them into small pieces. That's called dicing."

Once she got started, Wanda gained more confidence, and was soon done. Clint had finished cutting the ham, and was busy cracking eggs. The most fascinating thing about that was he did it one-handed. Crack the shell, pull the sides apart, and the egg fell into the bowl. "How do you do that? Natasha and James use both hands."

"Takes practice." He held out an egg, and Wanda took it. "Watch me. Then you try it."

She watched him crack the eggs until ready to try it herself. And to her surprise, it worked. She cracked the shell, curled her fingers to hold it, and widened the opening. The egg fell into the bowl with a plop. "I did it!"

"That was perfect." They finished with the eggs, and Clint handed her the whisk. "Hold it like this…" he moved her fingers, "…now make small, fast circles with your wrist, dragging the whisk through the eggs, like you're stirring sideways." He demonstrated, and Wanda did her best to copy his movements.

While she did that, Clint picked up three lemons, and juggled them, almost as if he didn't realize he was doing it. "Is that what you did in the circus, juggle?"

"Some of it. Started as a roustabout. Did a high wire trapeze act for a while, dressed as a clown, and made balloon animals. Even did tumbling routines. Preferred the bow and arrow to anything else. Had my own show too."

That made Wanda laugh. "You shoot a bow and arrow?"

"I do. My mentor gave me the name Hawkeye. Haven't missed a shot since I was fifteen." Clint took the whisk, and used it to test the texture of the eggs. "That's good. Now dump in the other ingredients, and mix it some more." He nodded toward the stairs. "Laura's getting the kids up. Why don't you go wake your mom, dad and brother?"

Through their link, Wanda sensed her brother was already up. "If Cooper is awake, then Pietro will be as well. I'll get Natasha and James."

She went to the door of the craft room where her parents had slept on an air mattress and knocked. There was some stumbling around, and the door opened on James, sleep-tousled in his pajamas, and yawning. He scratched his chest, and smiled when he saw her, blinking in the bright light. "Hey, baby girl. Morning already?"

"Clint and I have been up for some time." She lifted her chin proudly. "I helped feed the animals."

"Good for you!" Behind him, she saw Natasha roll out of bed and get to her feet.

James perked up when he sniffed the air, and in response, Wanda smiled again. "He is teaching me how to make omelets. I have to get back."

"We'll get dressed and be right out."

The door closed, and Wanda heard her parents talking. With just a little concentration, she felt the pride from both as James told Natasha about feeding the animals and cooking. Suddenly shy, though she was alone, Wanda returned to the kitchen. Laura was there, setting the table while the kids played in the living room with Pietro. From the noise, they had to be wrestling.

Clint wiped his hands, and passed her a bundle of cloth. "Put that on. You're gonna be a cook, you gotta look the part." She unwound the apron, and without asking, Clint tied the strings for her. "You're gonna make the next one. Take this ladle, stir the mixture, and pour two scoops to the skillet." Wanda did as instructed. The eggs thickened as soon as they hit the hot metal. Clint passed her a spatula, using a second one to demonstrate how to lift the edges so the uncooked part would flow underneath. "When it's cooked all the way through, loosen the eggs from the skillet on one side, and fold it in half… Now scoop it up, and drop it on a plate." Wanda did so then looked to Clint for approval. Over his shoulder, James and Natasha were standing in the doorway watching and smiling.

A bell dinged, and Clint handed her a pair of oven mitts. "Biscuits are done." He opened the oven and stood back while she took a baking sheet out and set it on a folded towel. "I'll take care of these while you make the next omelet yourself."

Just a little scared to try it on her own, Wanda peeked into Clint's head to get the steps, and soon, she had another omelet ready to go.

A shrill whistle split the air of the semi-quiet morning, and Clint called out, "Get washed up, kids! Breakfast is ready!"

Before long, everyone was seated at the table. They held hands, and Clint said grace. "Bless us, oh Lord, and these your gifts which we are about to receive from your bounty. Also, please welcome Wanda and Pietro to the family. Let them know that they are loved. Through Christ our Lord we pray, Amen."

 **The Lockwood/Rogers Home**

The door closed behind Nicole, leaving Joi and Steve alone with Gracie. The girl took off her backpack and jacket, and Steve put them in the closet. She went to sit on the sofa, and Trixie took that as an invitation to get in her lap and lick her face. Bruno joined them, sitting where he could lean against her legs.

"What would you like to do today, Gracie?" Steve asked.

"Can we go to the park where all the dogs play?"

Over the girl's head, Steve consulted Joi, who nodded. "That sounds like fun. Want a snack first?"

"Uh-uh. Mommy and me had breakfast on the way over." She spied the game console and brightened. "Can we play games later?"

Joi finished putting the clean dishes away, dried her hands, and joined Steve and Gracie in the living room. Immediately, Bruno was at her side, his tongue lolling out. She rubbed a hand through his soft fur. "Of course. Let me get my jacket, and we'll go."

Steve helped Gracie on with her jacket, then reached for his. While putting it on, he commanded, "Trixie! Bruno! Walkies!"

The two dogs rushed to the basket in the corner, and came back with leashes in their mouths. He snapped the leads to their collars, passed Bruno's to Joi, and the group left the apartment.

~~O~~

Leaning his back against a tree, Steve watched Joi and Gracie playing with the dogs and the friends they'd made. Trixie was, by far, the best at catching the Frisbee, and at playing keep-away. Sometimes, Gracie would throw the Frisbee to Trixie just so they could chase her around.

Joi's energy was flagging, and soon, the group came to sit under the tree with him. Gracie sat between them, and Trixie got in her lap. "Steve, I wanna ask you somethin'. It's important, so think about it 'fore you answer."

The girl's statement was so mature, he wanted to say yes without even knowing what it was. He pulled her onto his lap, dislodging Trixie, and she laid her head on his shoulder. "You can ask me anything, dollface."

"My school is having career day in a couple of weeks. Would you come?"

Since the HYDRA business, Steve and Natasha had kept a low profile, and this would put them in the public eye again, if for no other reason than the good he was doing for the kids. What the hell? He didn't need his privacy anyway. "Have your mom send me the info, and I'll be there."

The girl's face lit up. "Cool! Do you think Tasha would come too?"

"Ask her when she gets home."

They sat there for a while, and Steve was about to doze off when Gracie moved off his lap. She picked up the Frisbee, using it to tease Trixie. The dog yipped, and chased the girl around the field with Bruno trotting after.

Joi scooted over to lean against his side. "You know she wants you to come in uniform, right?"

He took a deep breath and let it out. "I've been debating that for the last ten minutes. I'll discuss it with Nat. If I'm going in uniform, so is she."

"Safety in numbers, huh?" Joi chuckled. "Imagine that. The Avengers afraid of a bunch of seven-year-olds."

"Captain America, afraid? Oh, you're gonna pay for that one!" Steve pulled Joi across his lap so he could dig his fingers into her ribs, making her squeal. The wrestling turned into a romantic kiss.

When they parted, Joi held him around the chest. "I'm leaving in a few days. How will you ever get by without me?"

Steve wrapped her in his arms. "Won't be easy. The dogs and I will just have to do the best we can until you're home again. Any idea when that might be?"

"Thanksgiving, for a whole ten days." Joi's arms tightened a fraction. "While I'm gone, start looking for houses. You can email me videos of the ones you like."

"I will. Just don't have too much fun without me."

Joi cuddled closer. "I'll cry myself to sleep every night. Oh, that reminds me. We need a family pic for me to show the gang. With Gracie, of course."

"Of course."

 **Fitness Works**

 **PT Room**

"Come on. Just five more, and we're done."

Iris hadn't mentioned the increase in lower body strength to her physical therapist, Jamie Slater. With an internal grin, she knocked out the last five bicep curls in record time. Using the towel around her neck, she wiped away the sheen of sweat on her upper chest, neck and face. "You're cruel, Jamie. Forcing an invalid to work so hard."

Jamie replaced the weights on the rack, speaking over his shoulder. "I work you hard so you _won't_ be an invalid, _cher_."

Iris wanted to shout to the world that she could walk again, even if it was only for short distances. She wasn't up to a marathon yet. However, she had high hopes. "Got something to show you," she bowed her head, and pressed her palms together, "oh, most venerable sensei."

She set the breaks on the wheelchair, and pushed to standing, letting go when she got her balance. Keeping her eyes on her feet, Iris walked ten feet, turned and came back. Jamie looked at her with his mouth open. "How? I went over the neurologist's report with a fine-tooth comb. You shouldn't be able to stand, let alone walk."

"I proved him wrong once. And now I'm proving him wrong again." Iris sat in the chair, flipped the foot rests down, and let off the brakes. She backed up, turned around, and headed for the locker room. "As much fun as this has been, Jamie, I have a date, and he's picking me up."

"O-oh, _cher_! Girl's got a new fella, huh? Tell me about him."

Grinning, she didn't appease Jamie's curiosity. "It's early. Don't want to jinx it."

He crossed his arms, and pouted. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just peek through the blinds when he comes to get you."

"He's not your type."

"How do you know? You haven't told me anything about him," he said with mock annoyance as he walked beside her chair, stopping at the entrance to the ladies locker room.

Iris stopped, and turned to look at him. "He's too tall for you, has short hair, and is straight."

Jamie waved a hand. "Minor details. Though you got me with that straight thing. And even if he was bi," he put a hand over his heart and made a small bow. "I could never compete with the adorableness of Miss Iris Castillo, three-time gold medal winner in swimming and diving."

"Hmph. You forgot the seven silvers, and two bronze." She started moving again. "Besides, you have Raul."

"There's that too." He patted her shoulder. "Do your exercises every day, and bring some juicy gossip next time."

She rolled around the corner and out of sight. "We'll see, _cher_." Her locker was on the lower level so she could reach it. She took out her gym bag, set it in her lap, and rolled out the door that led to covered driveway. Chase drove up a few minutes later. He came around to help her in, and when she stood, he took the opportunity to kiss her on the neck. "Chase! I'm all sweaty."

"Don't care."

Despite his tone, Iris sensed underlying emotions. Annoyance, frustration, whatever it was, he likely wouldn't talk about it. He lifted her legs in for her, closed the door and went around to the driver's side, buckled up, and pulled out onto the street. "How did Justin's group go tonight?"

His already down mood soured further. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure." Iris paused, searching for another topic. "So, how about those Redskins?"

 **Stark Industries Penthouse**

 **Long Island**

Pepper let herself into the penthouse, set her purse and briefcase on the end of the sofa, and kicked off her heels. She went to the bar and poured herself a glass of infused water, pomegranate and mint, sipping on the way to the bedroom. The glass clinked on the bathroom's marble counter. From the medicine cabinet, she took out a bottle of over the counter pain meds, shook two into her palm, and swallowed them with the water before taking off her jewelry and watch. She took the pins out of her hair, and rubbed the scalp to loosen the light red strands.

"Ow!" she exclaimed when her left eye twitched. It had been doing that all day. During the meeting, it had been annoying, keeping her from concentrating on what the speaker was saying. She rubbed the eye with a finger on her way to the bedroom where she undressed, and put on her pajamas. Normally, she took a shower after a long day at the office, but she just didn't feel like it tonight, and she was too tired to eat.

Pepper finished off her drink, brushed her teeth, and padded to the bed. She pulled back the covers, climbed in, pulled the sheet over her, and turned out the light, falling asleep within minutes.

In the morning, Pepper swatted the alarm to silence, and rolled out of bed with another headache. Her eye was twitching worse than before. She rubbed it, but the blurry vision didn't go away. After splashing cool water on her face, she dried with a fluffy hand towel that hung beside the sink, and made a note to have her assistant call the doctor for an appointment.

She turned the shower on, took off her pajamas, which she left on the floor, and got under the hot spray. When she got out, Pepper dried off, and walked into the bedroom with just the towel around her. Going to the closet, she chose an elegant dark gray suit with a white satin blouse, black heels and stockings, and a matching belt.

Before long, she'd finished her hair and make-up, put on her jewelry, and pronounced herself ready. Just the thought of eating anything turned her stomach, so she poured the last of the infused water into a sustainable bottle, gathered her purse and briefcase, and headed out.

Within a few minutes, she and Happy were on their way to the meeting scheduled for that morning. She was staring out the window without really seeing anything when her eye started twitching again. The pain soared to an unbearable level, and stopped just as suddenly as it started. The vision in the left eye went black, and a message appeared.

 _Error. Maintenance required. Return to base._

 **TBC**

 _Net khuda bez dobra_ = There's no bad without the good.


	86. Chapter 86

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 86**

Since picking her up, Happy sensed that Pepper's mind was drifting. Her usual MO was to sit in the back making phone calls, or video conferencing on the built-in screen. This morning, she was staring out the window as if she hadn't gotten enough sleep, or had taken something that made her drowsy.

Suddenly, Pepper sat up straight, eyes facing forward without blinking. She stayed that way until Happy asked, "You okay, Ms. Potts?"

"Take me to Tony."

Happy looked in the mirror, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose at her flat tone. "We don't have time for stops, boss. The meeting starts in an hour, and you don't want to be late."

Hands in her lap, Pepper repeated the order, still in that monotone. "Take me to Tony."

Resigned, he did as she said, and drove to Stark Tower. He pulled up to Tony's private entrance, but before he could open the door for Pepper, she got out, and went inside. He shut off the engine, and followed, catching up to her at the lift. "Is something wrong, boss?"

Her eyes still seemed unfocused as she turned toward him, her movements mechanical and jerky. "I-I have to s-s-see Tony."

Apparently, that was all the information he was going to get out her. She swayed, and Happy caught her before she fell, easily lifting her in his arms. "Jarvis! Tell the boss I'm bringing Ms. Potts to him. She's passed out."

" _He's asked that you bring her to the robotics lab, sir_."

"Not to medical?"

The AI paused barely a second. " _No, sir. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner will meet you there_."

The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. Tony and Bruce were there with a stretcher. Happy laid Pepper down, making sure her limbs weren't twisted and uncomfortable. "She feels cold. What's wrong with her, doc?"

Bruce wouldn't look Happy in the eye as he and Tony pushed the stretcher down the hallway. "That's what we're going to find out."

"Shouldn't she be in the hospital?"

Leaving Bruce to push the stretcher on his own, Tony patted Happy on the back. "She'll be fine here, pal. Go to the penthouse, and we'll call you."

Happy waited until Tony and Bruce went into one of the labs, and closed the door. Then he waited another couple of minutes to creep down the hall, and peek in the window. Together, the men moved Pepper from the stretcher to a chair that vaguely resembled those used in a dentist's office. Shackles were clamped around her wrists and ankles by Bruce while Tony attached a long, glowing cable to one of the computers that Happy knew performed diagnostics.

The men blocked him from seeing what they were doing, and when they moved out of the way, Happy's mouth dropped open. A flap of her scalp had been peeled back. The end of the cable had been attached to a port in the side of her head, and was surrounded by blinking circuits.

Bruce pulled a screen down, and data appeared. Happy didn't know what the graphs and charts meant, but he didn't like that some of them were red.

Tony pointed to something, and Bruce looked relieved as he unbuttoned Pepper's jacket, and pushed her top up to expose her stomach. Dummy handed Tony a tool, and he touched it to Pepper's stomach above her navel, using his thumb to lift a small panel. Without meaning to, he smacked the window, and shouted, "What the _hell_?"

 **Tunnel Vision**

By the time the lunch rush was over, Chase had barely spoken more than a few words to Iris or the staff. He tapped at the computer with angry jabs. Luke hadn't said anything, but when their eyes met, she saw that he too noticed their boss wasn't quite running on all cylinders. Something was bothering him, and it had to do with his brother. Unfortunately, that's all she could get out of him.

Whatever happened, Chase was royally pissed, and it didn't help that he wouldn't talk about it. They spent the night together after he picked her up at the gym, cuddling, and nothing else. He obviously needed comfort instead of sex, and she was happy to provide it. For now. Whatever the problem was, he needed to get it solved, and soon, before the employees revolted.

Chase's phone beeped, but he kept on typing until it beeped again. With a scowl, he picked it up, and read the message. Apparently, it wasn't what he expected, and his anger eased off. He shoved the phone in his back pocket, grabbed his jacket and computer bag, and opened the door. "I'm covering for one of the IT guys the rest of the day. When I'm done, I'll head home."

"Want me to text or call if we need you?"

Without looking at her, he shoved a hand through his hair, making it stand up. "Handle it yourself. That's what I pay you for."

Iris winced at his belligerent and condescending tone, and the slam of the door that rattled the framed art on the walls. A few minutes later, Luke sidled into the room. "What's with Chase? He's been a real pain in the ass the last couple of days."

Not wanting him to know that Chase hadn't confided in her, Iris took a deep breath and let it out. "He's going through a rough patch. Family stuff. If it doesn't get better soon, I'll have a talk with him." One side of her mouth turned up. "Don't want the staff to quit just before a big money-making event."

"Right." The radio at his waist crackled. Luke poked a thumb over his shoulder. "Gotta get back. Gimme a call if you need anything."

The door closed behind Luke, and Iris took a few moments to herself, kicking back with a cold bottle of water, and her stash of Girl Scout Cookies.

 **Stark Industries**

 **Robotics Lab**

Tony finished what he was doing then went to let Happy in. Despite his name, he didn't seem at all pleased at discovering that Pepper wasn't Pepper, but a life-model decoy.

Happy pushed past Tony to the LMD's side, looking down at her eyes, wide and sightless. "Wh-what happened?"

"It's a long story, Hap. And I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I would've told you, but we both know you can't keep a secret."

Normally, the chauffer and bodyguard would argue that he'd known all along, but that wouldn't fly this time. "It was Extremis, wasn't it?" He slammed a fist into the opposite palm. " _I_ should've died instead of her."

"Then _you_ would be the life-model decoy." Tony placed a hand on Happy's shoulder. "We're gonna reactivate her in a bit. When we do, you have to behave as if everything's copacetic. Don't let on that you know she's not the original Pepper."

Tony drew Happy over to a chair, and urged him to sit. "We're still working a few kinks out in both the hard and software." He motioned for Bruce to join them.

"The LMDs have a reservoir where anything they eat or drink is stored. It's eliminated the much the same way as one of us." Bruce used a tablet to illustrate with a schematic. "Not sure how, but hers developed a leak that the nanites didn't catch. Whenever she experiences any sort of failure, she's programmed to return to the lab."

Happy jammed his elbows into his knees, and rested his head in his palms. "How'm I supposed to act around… her?"

Tony patted Happy on the back as if comforting a child. "The same as always, pal. Like she's the CEO of SI."

The tablet beeped, and Bruce tapped the screen. "We're taking the opportunity to do an upgrade. When it's done, we'll put her in the limo, and a few minutes later, she'll wake up thinking she fell asleep on the drive."

"How long will it take?"

Bruce answered, "Another thirty minutes. We had to seal the stomach, and clean the abdominal cavity. Jarvis will let us know when she's ready." He returned to Pepper to close, sealed the stomach flap. He also dimmed the lights, as if she were only sleeping.

Steering Happy to the lifts, Tony rubbed the end of his nose. "We've got one more thing to show you, and again, not a word to anyone."

They got out on a floor Happy had never seen before, and was taken through the decontamination procedure. Cautiously, he approached the bed, not as surprised to see Pepper as he thought he should be. "Boss, you said she was dead."

"I never said dead." Tony crossed his arms, avoiding looking at Pepper. "Extremis, and the aftermath, did a number on her brain. The LMD requires periodic data transfers from the original. That's one of the glitches we're working on."

"Will she ever…"

Bruce moved around to the monitor, keeping his back to Happy. "Unknown at this time, I'm afraid." Finally, he turned around. "Rest assured she's getting the best possible care."

"Oh, God. I need a drink."

Happy let himself out, shoulders hunched with sadness, and Tony watched him go. He felt Bruce come up behind him, giving silent support. "He's been devoted to Pepper since the day she came to work for me."

"I know. He told me." Bruce backed up a step. "The human brain is still mostly a mystery. She could come out of it on her own."

"Or not." Heaving a deep sigh, Tony shoved his hand in his pockets. "Shit. Now _I_ need a drink."

~~O~~

Several floors above in a dimly lit room, a body stirred. Eyes blinked, looking around at the room, confused by the massive amount of equipment. With a hard, upward jerk, the restraints easily gave way from the wrists. Leaning forward, the ankle restraints were broken as well.

The figure seemed to be listening, or replaying a conversation barely remembered. The cable pulled loose, and fell to the floor.

The door was meant to keep people out, not lock someone in, and opened easily at a tough. Padding barefoot to the lift, a slender finger punched in a code. The car descended, stopped, and the door opened.

The moment the figure stepped into the decontamination room, the door slammed shut, and alarms screeched throughout the floor. Ignoring the sound, hands pressed against the clear barrier into the room where several people in white suits were attending to the person lying on the bed.

~~O~~

Tony and Bruce's phones went off at the same time, uncomfortably loud in the confines of the lift car. "What's happening, Jarvis?"

" _There is an intruder in the medical isolation area containing Ms. Potts. She has been contained_."

"She?" The men exchanged knowing glances. Tony entered an override code into the lift's controls. It stopped, and changed direction, opening on isolation floor. They ran the length of the hall, skidding to a stop at the entrance to isolation. Standing in the middle of the decontamination room was Pepper's life-model decoy.

She saw him, and stormed over, slapping her hands on the clear barrier. " _What the hell's going on, Tony? Why is there another me in that bed?_ "

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

Telling his story to the group was one of the hardest things Justin had ever done. Sharing such intimate details with strangers, even if he made them up, wasn't on the top of his fun things to do list.

"…and now I'm here, trying to get it to make sense in my head." He sat down, and unlike when others told their stories, there was silence. Even the doctor seemed uncomfortable knowing that he'd been kidnapped and brainwashed by a cult. Okay, so it was sort of true, if you stretched the meaning of the word, because, in a way, HYDRA fit the bill.

A couple of the women sniffed into tissues at his dramatic retelling of breaking free of the brainwashing, and his remorse for the things they'd made him do, without giving details. When he spoke of being reunited with his family, Justin had laid a hand on Chase's shoulder, as if to draw strength from their bond. Well, that part was true, at least. Having his twin by his side made speaking about his experiences a little easier.

Rutledge shuffled papers, and cleared his throat. "Well, that was quite a story, Finn. We're glad you were able to get away, and return to your family. Does anyone…"

Beside him, Chase made a noise that Justin recognized as contempt. The doctor heard it too. So did the rest of the group.

"Would you care to add to what Finn said, Garrett?"

Chase crossed his arms defensively. "Just here for support, doc. Not to participate."

The doctor gripped the edges of the podium. "You obviously have something to say. Please share it with the group."

"Pass. _I'm_ not the one who needs therapy."

This time, the doctor looked directly at Chase over the tops of his glasses. "I'm sure you believe what you're saying. But your twin's disappearance had to have some effect on you."

Justin watched his brother from the corner of his eye. Again, Chase shook his head.

The doctor seemed to have given up getting him to talk, and went onto the next step. "Does anyone wish to comment on Finn's story?"

Chase pushed himself upright in the chair, shaking his head. "It's just… he thinks this is all about _him_. That _he's_ the only one who was physically and emotionally affected by the actions of a group of highly disturbed individuals. And it's just not true."

Taken aback, Justin turned to Chase. Using his best what the **** tone, he burst out, "Ex _cuse_ me? _You_ weren't a prisoner of those b******. _You_ weren't mentally and physically abused, and forced to do things no sane person would."

"Wasn't I? Maybe not by them, but you're more than just my brother, Finn. We share a-a special bond. And when you were taken, I was devastated. It was like my world had ended, but I was forced to keep on going."

Involuntarily, Justin scoffed, and in a voice dripping with sarcasm, he growled, "Sure you were, _brother_. When I finally got away and came home, I found that everyone had gone about their daily lives like nothing happened. Like I'd never existed."

Chase abruptly stood, knocking his chair over with a crash. His hands were clenched as his sides, and he looked ready to take a swing at Justin, who stood at the same time. One fist came up, and for a moment, he thought his brother _would_ hit him. The hand dropped to his side as Chase turned and left the room. Justin's extraordinary hearing heard the front door of the center open and close.

Still angry that the one person who should understand what he was going through didn't, Justin righted the chair, and sat down, keeping his eyes averted from the stunned expressions of the rest of the group.

Pasting on a faint smile, Justin quipped, "Guess I'm walking home tonight."

 **The Barton Farm**

Bucky and Wanda stood on the porch watching the dark clouds fill the sky and lightning flash in the distance. "Looks like that horseback ride will have to wait."

"We can go another time." On impulse, she wrapped both arms around one of Bucky's and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing us here. Now I know for certain that I would not care to be a farmer."

His laugh was spontaneous and heartfelt as he moved his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to his side. "You and me both, baby girl. What does Pietro think of it?"

"My brother will be happy when we return home. He loves playing 'big brother' to Clint's children, but is distrustful of the animals."

"Yeah. Me too. One of his goats bit me the last time I was here."

The door opened, and Clint came out followed by Cooper and Lila. "Gotta put the animals away before the storm hits." He squinted at the clouds, and huffed. "Let's get it done, kids."

As Clint got close, the goats danced out of his way, but when they saw Lila, they came running. They followed her into the barn like the Pied Piper. Cooper came in behind his sister with one of the horses while Clint led the other two.

"James, should I put the chickens back in their coop?"

"Do you know how?"

Wanda sighed. "I doubt it will be as easy as letting them out." A bright flash of lightning split the air, a little too close for her liking, making her jump. Then the wind picked up, blowing the grass flat, and bending the branches of the trees.

Pietro stepped out onto the porch with them. "We should have left before this. Now we are stuck away from civilization until the rain stops."

"Pietro, be nice," Bucky admonished him. "Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura are your godparents. If something happens to your mother and me, this is where you'll live."

The boy crossed his arms and pouted. "Then I hope you both live forever."

Of all the things Pietro could've said, that simple sentence warmed Bucky's heart more than if he'd come right out and said "I love you". And he did, in a way.

The wind picked up even more, and another bolt of lightning streaked through the air. The crack of thunder so loud, it made them jump. First, just a few drops of rain darkened the dirt in the yard then it came down harder in a steady downpour, and included hail.

Lightning crackled again, and the small shed housing the fuel tanks blew up, sending flames shooting into the sky. It was far enough away that the house would be safe, unless it spread to the yard.

Natasha and Laura came to join them, watching the flames with dread. "The rain should put it out," Laura told them with the voice of experience.

"Let's not wait for that to happen," Natasha added. She ran down the steps, and Laura made to follow.

Instinct made Wanda grab Laura's hand before she reached the last step. "No! You must stay! _We_ will go."

"But…" the protest died on Laura's lips as Bucky, Pietro and Wanda ran after Natasha.

Wanda grabbed the hose she and Clint had used to fill the troughs, uncoiling it as she ran toward the fire. The water came streaming out, and she aimed it at the flames, but it did little good.

Bucky must've seen something Wanda didn't, because he pulled the hose from her grasp, and grabbed her hand, dragging her away just as another explosion belched black and red into the sky. He shielded her with his body as several huge pieces of burning metal flew through the air to land on the roof of the barn, and in front of the exit.

"No!" Laura exclaimed, and once again stepped off the porch.

Already soaked, Wanda grabbed Natasha's arm. "You must take Laura back inside immediately!"

"Why?"

Wanda should've known that her mother would want an explanation, but she couldn't go into it now. "Please! Just do it. We will handle this!"

The fire grew much faster than any of them anticipated, blocking the escape for Clint and the children. Through their link, Wanda and Pietro briefly conferred, and came to the only decision possible.

Pushing the wet hair off her face, and blinking in the cold rain, Wanda ran toward the barn, bringing her arms up, creating the red psionic mist. Concentrating hard, the mist grew, and became a barrier which she used to enclose the fire. Without fuel, the flames began to die down. However, they had already done their damage. The roof creaked as it started to give way. Wanda increased the size of the force field, holding the burning beams in place. "Go now, Pietro! I cannot hold it for long!"

Bucky stood near the fire with his arm shielding his face, moving back and forth, working out how to get inside to rescue Clint and the kids when he was suddenly transported to the porch.

Pietro came back, nodded to Wanda, and broke into a run. He was on the porch again within seconds carrying Cooper and Lila. Bits of his clothing smoldered where burning embers had fallen. He ignored it, and prepared for another run.

A large beam broke loose, caving in part of the roof. Wanda barely managed to catch it. Pietro returned to the barn, and came back with Clint, whose eyes were wide, and filled with relief and shock.

Taking off once more, Pietro returned to the burning barn, and one by one, all the animals appeared in the yard, except for the horses. He went back inside, and soon the horses were running around free, shying away from the flames, the last one with Pietro on his back. He jumped down, and ran to the porch with the others.

Unable to hold the field steady any longer, Wanda fell back a few steps, her shoes sinking into the mud that had once been the yard where she fed the chickens just that morning. She stumbled back as the burning side of the barn broke loose, falling toward her. A moment later, Pietro had picked her up, and set her on the porch with the others.

Laura had her arms around the kids. Clint gave the twins a long stare, and joined his wife and children.

Natasha came out onto the porch with a stack of clean towels. The expression on her face seemed to show betrayal. Or it could just be Wanda's imagination. Sending a quick ping to Pietro told her he got the same sense.

Ignoring their parents for the moment, the twins watched the animals milling around, keeping their distance from the burning barn. The flames shot into the air. Wanda had to do something or their godparents would lose everything.

No longer hiding her true self, Wanda went down the steps, stopping far enough from the barn that she would be relatively safe. Besides, she trusted Pietro to save her again.

Bringing her arms up, and calling on every ounce of physical and mental strength, Wanda created another, larger field. This one enclosed the entire structure rather than trying to smother just the parts that were burning. Raising her arms, she closed the top of the field, using her hands to shape it so that the fire was deprived of oxygen, and would put itself out. It took a while, but eventually, nothing was left of the fire but puffs of smoke that were soon extinguished by the rain.

Exhausted, Wanda collapsed to the ground. Knowing she couldn't stay here, she tried to stand. The world spun, and she was suddenly held in a strong embrace against a heavily muscled chest. Warmth permeated her where their bodies touched. The swaying movements of her rescuer made her nauseous after inhaling all that smoke. "Oh, I'm gonna be sick," she moaned into the chest under her cheek.

They went up the steps, across the porch, and in through the front door, not stopping until they reached the bathroom. Bucky's strong arms pushed her inside. She fell to her knees with her head over the toilet, but nothing came up.

Behind her, stepped inside, and closed the door. A moment later, a gentle hand touched her on the back. "Are you alright, _malenkaya_?"

She nodded. " _Da_."

Natasha knelt next to her, gathering her hair, and holding it out of the way with one hand while the other turned on the water, and shut it off again. A wet washcloth came into her field of vision. Wanda took it, wiping her face, paying special attention to her eyes, which still stung from the acrid smoke. She coughed into the crook of her arm. " _Spasibo_."

Turning her head, Wanda saw her mother's concerned features. She helped Wanda stand. Involuntarily, she shivered with the loss of adrenaline and the rain that had soaked through her clothes, making her skin feel cold and clammy.

Again, the door opened, and closed. Natasha laid dry clothes and fluffy towels on the counter. "Take a hot shower. Pietro will use the bathroom upstairs. And when you're both done, the four of us will talk. Clint and Laura will undoubtedly have questions too."

The twins had known that this would happen when they made the decision to use their powers to rescue Clint and the children. Wanda nodded, and Natasha left her alone with one thought: How do you tell your parents that you've been lying to them from the beginning?

 **TBC**


	87. Chapter 87

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 87**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Secret Medical Unit**

This is what his lies had brought them to, Tony and Pepper. "Honey, calm down," he told her in a soothing tone.

She paced angrily, taking short, quick steps. " _Don't tell me to calm down, Tony. What the hell is going on?_ " Pepper got up close to the glass, pointing behind her. " _Why am I locked in, who_ _is_ _that, and why does she look like me?_ "

Without consulting Bruce, Tony made an arbitrary decision to lie his ass off… again "That is one of the life-model decoys. We're experimenting with a new form of enhanced monitoring of… comatose individuals in whom no brain function has been observed to…"

Bruce caught onto his hastily concocted story, "…to help determine if there is low-level functionality occurring at a level too low to be recorded by older technology."

Tony opened the door, and reached out to Pepper. "I'm sorry we made her look like you. It was a way to have you here even when you weren't here."

"Why _am_ I here? I should be at a meeting."

Happy stepped forward, drawing their attention. "Don't you remember, Ms. Potts? You weren't feeling well when I picked you up, so the meeting was changed to tomorrow afternoon."

Pepper opened and closed her mouth, her forehead creased in thought. "Yes. I woke up with an awful headache."

"But you feel better now, right?" Tony put an arm around her shoulders, urging her back to the lifts. "Happy brought you here, and the housekeeper helped you lie down in one of the guest rooms." He looked down at her feet, and she did as well. "That's why you're barefoot."

She wiggled her toes in the thick pile of the carpet. "I'm sorry, Tony. It's been a long couple of weeks. Normally, I don't have a problem with jet lag, even coming home from Singapore, but this time…"

Bruce came into sight with Happy at his side. "Mr. Hogan, why don't you take Pepper back to the guest room? Jarvis will have Chef make her something that'll help her feel better."

She smiled, and touched his hand. "Thank you, Bruce. That would be perfect."

The pair got into the lift, and the doors closed. Tony's smile vanished, but before Bruce could do more than open his mouth, he put up a finger in warning. "Not a _word_ , Banner. I'm going to fix this."

"That's the problem, Tony. You're always fixing things that should be left alone."

 **The Barton Farm**

Natasha closed the bathroom door just as Pietro disappeared up the stairs. She heard the upstairs bathroom door open and close at the same time the shower came on for Wanda.

Bucky came and took her in his arms. Over by the stairs, Clint and Laura were fussing over the kids, urging them upstairs to get cleaned up, and changed. However, all the kids wanted to talk about was Pietro and Wanda.

Keeping his voice low, Bucky wondered, "When were they going to tell us?"

"Maybe they weren't." She lifted her head from his chest so she could see his eyes. "Doesn't change anything."

"If we had known from the start, I still would've chosen them."

She smiled, and touched his cheek. "Me too. For once in my life, I have no idea what to say."

His smile matched hers. "We'll think of something."

Sirens split the air, and abruptly cut off as the fire truck came to a stop near the wood pile. Clint ran down the stairs, and out the front door to talk to them. Through the window, Natasha saw the five men and one woman don their gear, and cautiously enter the barn's remains. Clint stayed outside until the crew finished their inspection. The truck left, and he came back inside. He didn't look happy. "I'll call the insurance company today, honey. Buster thinks it's a total loss."

Laura herded the kids to the living room, and looked back at Clint. "No one was hurt. Anything else is replaceable."

~~O~~

Pietro vigorously rubbed his head with a towel, more to waste time than because he needed it. He hung the towel over the towel bar, combed his hair as best he could, and dressed. Once his shoes were tied, he sat on the toilet seat, one elbow on his thigh, the hand propping up his head as he communicated with Wanda.

* _It was bound to happen at some point, sister_.*

** _Yes, but I thought we would have more time._ **

Sighing, though she couldn't hear it, Pietro conceded that she was right. * _I will be down in a moment. Not looking forward to this_.*

** _Nor am I_.** There was a pause. ** _Natasha and James are becoming restless, as are Clint and Laura._ **

* _Will you tell Laura why you stopped her from helping?_ *

** _I must. But it is good news, so perhaps_ _they_ _will forgive us quicker than our parents._ _Da_?**

He laughed out loud. * _We can hope_.* Getting to his feet with a sigh, Pietro gathered his wet clothes, and went down the back stairs to the laundry room before returning to the living room.

Wanda passed him on her way to the laundry room, and they shared a look. He leaned in the doorway to keep from pacing due to the tense atmosphere. Cooper and Lila kept eyeing him while they played on the floor, apparently having been cautioned to be quiet for the time being.

On her way back, Wanda stopped to whisper in Laura's ear. She looked startled, and immediately ran upstairs. Clint followed after tossing her a sharp glare.

Then Bucky held open the door to the craft room, and reluctantly, Pietro led the way in.

The door had barely closed when their parents pulled them into a four-way hug, and Pietro felt Bucky kiss him on the cheek. Embarrassed, Pietro pulled away, and their parents released them. Without being told, the twins sat on the side of the air mattress to await questions.

Their parents sat in chairs, and as always, Natasha was the first to speak. "That was an amazing thing you did, saving Clint, the kids, and the animals."

"We're proud of both of you." Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on his knee. "We just want to know…"

"…why you didn't tell us about your abilities before now."

Pietro held Wanda's hand, and both met their parents' eyes without flinching. "Because we were afraid that if we did, you would not want us."

His sister continued, "Once we got to know you, we realized that would not be the case. By then it was too late."

~~O~~

To put the twins at ease, Natasha held Wanda's hand, and Pietro reluctantly let Bucky hold his. Images flowed through his head so quickly, he couldn't catch hold of even one. A glance at Natasha told him she was experiencing the same images.

"Don't ever be afraid to tell us the truth. We meant it when we said our love is unconditional."

Bucky released Pietro, and leaned back, breaking the stream of images. "There isn't anything you might do that would make us stop caring. Just remember that."

A commotion in the other room drew their attention. Natasha thought that Clint would be pissed about the barn, but that wasn't what she was hearing. Their voices sounded ecstatic.

The Barnes family rushed out to the living room to see Clint and Laura hugging, and the kids dancing. "What's going on?"

Clint looked at his wife with a huge grin. "We're having a baby!"

Remembering that she'd seen Wanda whispering to Laura just before she ran upstairs, Natasha looked back at her daughter with one eyebrow raised questioningly. Wanda held up her right hand with a thin red mist swirling around her fingers, smiled and shrugged sheepishly.

If Laura or Clint thought it odd that Wanda knew she was pregnant, neither one said anything.

Bucky kissed Laura on the cheek, and shook Clint's hand. Even though she showed the right amount of enthusiasm for her best friend and his wife, Natasha couldn't help feeling sad for herself and Bucky, and a little jealous that they couldn't have a child of their own. She didn't think one child was too much to ask, even though it was impossible. The type of sterilization left the organs intact while preventing the girls from having a cycle that would interfere with their work. Natasha had seen several of the world's best infertility experts, and had been told by all that the procedure was irreversible. Not even a transplant would help.

To celebrate the new baby, the extended family went out to dinner at the Ranchero Steak House in town. The large group drew curious looks from the regulars. By this time tomorrow, it would be all over town that the Barton family's barn had burned down, and they were expecting number three.

Later, after everyone had gone to bed, Natasha stirred in her sleep, plagued by surreal dreams in which she played a variety of roles, protagonist, antagonist, outside observer, the villain, the hero, and even the damsel in distress. Bucky automatically cuddled her against his chest without waking. Soon, she calmed, and so did her dreams.

Outside their room, a shadow separated itself from the others, and went up the stairs without making a sound.

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

Chase knew Justin thought he'd be driving himself to the group session tonight, and it gave him great satisfaction to prove him wrong. They hadn't spoken since their argument at the last one where he'd stormed off. His brother got in, slammed the door, and buckled his seatbelt, keeping his face turned toward the window for the entire ride.

At the center, Chase grabbed their usual table while Justin went after the drinks and snacks. And just like when they were kids, he passive-aggressively showed his annoyance by bringing him an orange soda, which he loathed. Unwilling to let Justin have the last word, Chase drank it without complaint.

Dr. Rutledge circulated through the room, stopping to greet each member. When he came to their table both men sat up straight. The doctor's scrutiny made them feel like unruly students brought before the stern and disapproving principal.

"I must admit that I didn't expect to see either of you again, and certainly not together." Rutledge fished in his pocket, coming out with a business card. "In my expert opinion, you would benefit greatly from couples therapy." At their outraged stares, the doctor smiled. "It's not just for married folk. It really should be called partnership therapy. We should get started immediately. Call my office on Monday, and make an appointment for next week. Unfortunately, you'll have to use your real names."

He patted them both on the shoulder, and made his way to the podium to get the session started. "Welcome, one and all. This week, we'll begin with…"

A woman waved her hand. She was in her thirties, with dirty blonde hair, wearing unflattering clothes that hung on her skinny frame. Until now, she'd been content to sit and listen. "I wanna hear more of Finn and Garrett's story. It's way more interesting than mine."

The sentiment was echoed by all but a few of the members, and Chase resigned himself to being an unwilling participant again.

Looking over the tops of his glasses, Rutledge leaned his elbows on the podium, and clasped his hands together. "That would be up to them, Sarah. Boys?"

Justin waved a hand. "Yeah, fine. Whatever."

He made an after you gesture. "Proceed, gentlemen."

To get the ball rolling, Chase started them off. "Until the day that I was told Finn had died, my life was pretty good. My own business, a loving family, good friends. Well, except for a couple of failed relationships with the wrong women."

A snort came from his left. "A _couple_?"

Annoyed, Chase clarified, "More than two, less than five. After, _it_ happened, I was sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. Didn't want to go to work, eat, or do much of anything. Then I realized that just because my twin had died didn't mean the world stopped turning. Bills still had to be paid, laundry had to be washed, groceries bought, the dog walked…"

"You don't _have_ a dog."

"It's an _example_. There was still fighting in Afghanistan, hurricanes battering the east coast, and the lawn still had to be cut. Dad retired and spent his time working in the garden, bowling, and going camping with his pals, Mom went to her job, had tea with her friends once a month. After a few months, for most of us, it got easier."

Justin didn't like the sound of that, apparently. "So while I was going through the nine circles of _hell_ , everyone just did an Eleanor Rigby." At the blank looks from the rest of the group, he sang…

 _Eleanor Rigby, died in the church_ _  
_ _And was buried along with her name_ _  
_ _Nobody came_

"The memorial service was standing room only, _goober_ ," Chase retorted as he got to his feet. "You should think about the next few lines of that song." Not much of a singer, he hesitated before following Justin's lead.

 _All the lonely people_ _  
_ _Where do they all come from?_ _  
_ _All the lonely people_ _  
_ _Where do they all belong?_ _  
_

Suddenly, they were face to face, glaring into each other's eyes. Justin took an extra half step forward, his voice a growl. "You wanna talk lonely, _troglodyte_? How about being kept in solitary confinement day in and day out for more than two ******* _years_? And when someone _did_ come around, it meant more torture and brainwashing until you've finally forgotten the man you used to be. Yet you're so damn starved for human company that you'll do anything anyone tells you, let them do whatever they want to you, just to know there was another warm body nearby."

Angrier than he was the last time, Chase pushed Justin aside, and stormed out again. He heard Justin follow, so he turned, his right fist aimed at his brother's head, only to be stopped by his left hand as if it were nothing. To him, maybe it _was_ nothing. However, Chase had learned quite a bit from Natasha during their training sessions, and he was ready to put it into practice again.

~~O~~

Watching the doors swing after Finn followed Garrett out, Rutledge sighed. Those boys needed help, badly, and he was willing to work with them. But first, they had to admit they needed help. Until then…

Rutledge's rambling thoughts stuttered to a halt with a crash as the brothers fell through the glass doors. They rolled to their feet, fists swinging, knocking over tables and chairs. Any fights they'd had as children or as adults paled in comparison. Neither man was holding back. Garrett picked up a chair, and smashed it against Finn's ribs.

When Finn attempted to return the favor, Garrett ducked, and the chair smashed the Coke machine in the corner. It sputtered and sparked.

What remained of their group scrambled out of the way, most with their phones out taking video. Shaking his head, Rutledge took out his phone, and dialed 9-1-1.

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Holding Cells**

 **After Midnight**

Slumped with his back against the bars and both legs hanging over the side of the bed, Justin contemplated his current situation, and didn't much care for it. In one corner of the small room, there was a sink and toilet, both metal, and on either side of the enclosure were two twin beds with thin mattresses and flat pillows.

He didn't move a muscle or even look up when the door opened, and Chase was shoved unceremoniously into the cell with him. The door slammed, and locked, and the cop gave them both a glare.

"One look at your busted lips and black eyes, and maybe the judge will take pity on you at your arraignment, boys." Chase didn't reply, except to flip off the police officer, which he ignored. "Sorry there's no mints on the pillows. The maid called in sick. You missed dinner, and breakfast is at six. Now sit here, and think about what you've done."

The officer went around the corner out of sight. Chase shook a finger in his direction, snorting in frustration. "Was it just me, or did he sound just like Mom?"

Justin looked around, and back to his brother. "Oh, so you're talking now, instead of hitting?"

Chase flopped down on the other bed and rolled onto his back. "You had it coming, bro. Sure, you're the protagonist in your own story. And yes, you suffered more than anyone ever should and made it out alive. But don't _ever_ think that you're the only one that felt pain." He sat up, rested a wrist on the upraised knee, using the other one to emphasize a point. "Mom actually coped better than anyone."

That surprised Justin. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Of all of us, she's the only one who went to therapy at the beginning. Me? I threw myself into work. Gramps and Nat, well, you know how they are. Joi had Steve and the show. Big hit, by the way." Chase got up, and came to sit next to Justin, who moved to the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor, grunting at the pain in his ribs. "Because of this twin thing, technically, _I'm_ the one who should've cried and wailed that some unknown person or persons had taken the other half of my soul. And the truth is, for a while, I did." He waved his hands in the air. "Poor Chase! Feel sorry for him because his twin died. Walk on eggshells around him because his twin died. Ignore all the idiotic and _asinine_ things he says and does because his twin died. Let him be a jerk to _everyone_ all the time because his twin died."

Justin bumped his brother's shoulder with his. "So, what finally turned _you_ around?"

He snorted, and bumped back. "Nat. She wiped the floor with my ass every time she heard what a grade A asshole I was being. Reminded me that I wasn't the center of the universe."

"Then why're you giving _me_ shit?"

"It was like I said. Your attitude was that all that _shit_ only happened to _you_. But the death of a loved one is… it's like having a part of you amputated. Even more so with a twin. Eventually, you learn to adjust to the absence, though the feeling of having that part of you gone never goes away."

Involuntarily, Justin gripped his left bicep, feeling it ache though he knew it wasn't possible. "Like phantom limb pain."

"Exactly." They fell silent for a few moments. Chase rubbed his hands together, and gave him the side-eye. "The one who felt your absence the most after me was Gracie. She was too young to understand. All she knew was you left without saying good-bye."

Suddenly, Justin had to move. He jumped up to pace. "Didn't go of my own volition."

"We know. Between the cops, the park rangers and SHIELD, some of the events were pieced together. There's pieces of the puzzle still missing. Only _you_ can fill in the details, but don't feel you have to. For some of us, it's best if you make something up."

Justin leaned against the cell door, one hand rubbing his ribs. "Mom's been pushing me to tell her what happened. Apparently 'I don't want to talk about it' isn't in her vocabulary."

Chase's hands clenched, and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightened in anger. "Tell her it was _schadenfreude_."

"Oh, they felt that alright. To the _nth_ degree. Some of what they did took the form of experiments, like they did it just to see how much pain I could endure. Not ashamed to admit I screamed like a little girl."

For some reason, Justin's tone made Chase laugh. He pushed off the bunk faster than he'd ever moved before, getting Justin around the neck and giving him noogies. "Take _that_ , big brother."

They separated, and after a short pause, Chase got him in a hug. Justin patted his brother on the back. "Guess we've both got work to do on this PTSD thing."

"Weeell, I think you've both made some excellent progress today. However, it's time to take this to the homestead."

At the sound of their sister's voice, the brothers ran to the bars. "Sis!"

Joi had her hands on her hips, one foot tapping the tile in a rapid rhythm while Steve stood next to her not smiling. "We overpaid for the damages to the health center so the charges were dropped." He held up one finger. "On the condition that neither of you set foot in there ever again."

Justin looked at Chase, and together they said, "Agreed."

And Chase continued, "Think Rutledge will still want to do our couples therapy?"

Justin made a big shrug. "Can't hurt to ask."

"Excuse me. Couples therapy?" Joi looked from one to the other with a confused expression then waved her hands. "Never mind. I _don't_ want to know."

Steve nodded to the officer, and he let the brothers out. "We'll take you back to the car sp both of you can go home and stay out of trouble. We'll meet you in front."

When Steve and Joi had gone, the officer handed over the envelopes with their personal belongings, had them sign, and sent them on their way.

Near the exit, Chase turned to Justin. "You know the fight was uploaded to social media before the cops drove away with us in the back seat."

"That means every reporter, blogger, vlogger, and curious onlooker within fifty miles will be outside that door."

"Yeah. For once in your life, bro, just keep walking, and say nothing."

Justin grabbed Chase's sleeve, grinning. "Wanna have some fun?"

His brother rolled his eyes, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Do I have a choice?"

He slapped a cap on his head, and punched Chase on the shoulder. "Nope."

They stepped out the door, and were immediately set upon by a group of reporters all firing off questions, taking photos and video, and shoving microphones in their faces. Doing his part, Chase pushed their way through, the brothers making it as far as the sidewalk without hurting anyone. From the corner of his eye, Justin saw Steve and Joi pull up to the curb.

As if he were frustrated and annoyed, Justin swung around to confront them, recognizing the woman leading the pack. A few years back, she'd gotten into a public confrontation with Tony Stark. It would be his pleasure to take her down a few pegs. "Fine! Ask your questions." He pointed at the woman. "You first."

"Christine Everhart. What caused the fight that got you and your brother arrested?"

He could feel Chase's eye roll without seeing it. "Boys will be boys."

"What was it like being 'dead' for two years, Justin?"

He shook a finger. "You're that reporter who never has anything nice to say about Tony Stark, who's a close family friend, by the way." The woman's eyes narrowed at his tone. "By the way, it's Mr. Lockwood to you and your posse. For the record, being dead wasn't nearly as much fun as the brochure said it would be."

"There's a rumor going around that your death was faked to cover up that you're an infamous assassin known by the intelligence community as the Winter Soldier. Care to comment?"

Justin's first thought was to tell her to **** off, get in the car and go, but what fun would that be? He gave her his best smolder, and moved in close, deepening his voice to a husky rumble, making sure he was heard by the others. "Tell me, _cuchka derganaya_ , just how many men have worshiped at your altar of Venus?" A smile turned up one side of his mouth. "You know, I'm _fascinated_ by blondes, Christine. What say we get together and do a little role playing? You be Auntie Entity, and I'll be Mad Max infiltrating your," he dropped his eyes to her chest, "Thunderdome."

Several emotions flitted over her face. Anger, embarrassment, shock. "Didn't you come out if the closet at fifteen?"

He winked at her. "Honey, I was never _in_ the closet. But hey, I'll try anything once. Just like all the others before me who've breached your… boarders." Justin toyed with a lock of her hair, tossing a nod at the SUV idling at the curb. "That's my ride. Give me a call, if you ever wanna take me up on my offer." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I promise to make it a night you'll _never forget_."

He had to give her credit for ignoring his blatant come-on. "Was that a yes or no on the Winter Soldier, _Mr. Lockwood_?"

Chase grabbed is arm, tossing wary looks at the reporters. "Come on, Justin. Let's go."

As if his brother were the voice of reason, Justin backed off, his smile turning into a frown. "That's enough questions." He opened the back door of the SUV, and with one foot inside, turned back to Christine. "Word of warning, Ms. Everhart. My family and I don't care to have our personal lives picked clean in front of millions of people, so stay the **** away from us."

Christine drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin in a show of bravado. "Or what?"

"To quote another family friend, you'll make me angry. And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." Justin and Chase got into the SUV, slammed the doors, and Steve pulled away from the curb.

~~O~~

Once they were on the highway, Chase poked Justin. "After that interview, I'd be surprised if she didn't think you were on getting a one-way trip to Fantasy Island."

Justin just shrugged. From the front seat, Joi made a grunt of annoyance. "Good thing no one in our family has a history of mental illness."

"Um, sis, have you forgotten Mia? Took off for parts unknown just ahead of the cops after assaulting her ex-boyfriend a few years back," Chase reminded her.

Looking thoughtful, Justin added, "Doesn't count. People do that all the time. And since then, the jerk was charged with domestic abuse by another girlfriend."

Steve chuckled. "He better not come after her again."

Joi turned in her seat, grinning at her brothers. "Why not? After what he tried to do to Mia while they were dating, I'd pay good money to watch her zap the _shit_ out of him."

The brothers laughed, when Steve added, "And I'd sell you the tickets."

 **Iris' Home**

After taking Justin back to his apartment, Chase had every intention of going home. Instead, he found himself parking in the driveway next to Iris' car. He sat there for a few minutes, debating. About the time he decided he had to either go in or leave before someone called the cops, he got out and went to the door. He raised his hand to knock, and almost chickened out.

At the club, he hadn't been nice. Not at all. To _anyone_. It harkened back to what he told Justin in jail. He hadn't liked himself much after he was gone, and didn't now. Iris worked for him, but he also cared about her as much more than an employee, a friend, or even as a friend with benefits. She deserved a heartfelt apology. The sooner, the better. He knocked, and waited.

On the other side of the door, he heard Dakota whining. The service dog only did that for people he knew and liked. Chase leaned close to the door, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry. "Iris? It's Chase. May I come in, please? Just for a few minutes."

" _So you can give me even more grief? No, thanks. Just get in your car, and go before you wake the neighbors_."

He crouched down so that he was at the same level as Iris in her chair. "I will, after I say something first." She didn't respond, but he also didn't hear the chair rolling away. That told him she was willing to listen. "I know I've been an ass lately, especially to _you_. I'm sorry, and hope you can forgive me. Please don't quit." If he _really_ wanted her forgiveness, he had to be willing to give her a good reason to stay. Something personal. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

 **TBC**

 _Eleanor Rigby_ is a song by the Beatles, released on the 1966 album _Revolver_. It was written primarily by Paul McCartney, and credited to Lennon–McCartney.

 _Schadenfreude_ is pleasure derived from the misfortune of others.

 _Cuchka derganaya_ \- crazy b****


	88. Chapter 88

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 88**

 **Justin's Apartment**

Justin watched his brother drive away, and for a while, he just stood there, hands in his pockets, thinking, and shivering in the cold. It was late, and he had to work in the morning, but he didn't need much sleep. Not to mention he still had bad dreams. And as much as he wanted to go to Rey and ask her to let him come back, he knew she was right about relearning how to comfort himself instead of relying on someone else. That didn't mean they couldn't go on another date.

Taking out his phone, he composed an email while walking to his apartment, and scheduled it to be sent in the morning when she was awake. He shut the ringer off, and let himself into the place he was calling home, for the time being. The phone, his wallet and keys were dropped on the small table by the sofa on his way to the bedroom.

He tossed his clothes in the laundry basket, and went to take a shower to wash off the smell of the jail. After his shower, he dried off then hung the towel up, and walked naked into the bedroom for his pajamas. With his hair still wet, he lay down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling for a while. Resigned to not going to sleep right away, he grabbed the book off the nightstand, and opened it to where he stopped.

 **Iris' Home**

Uncertain if Iris was still listening, Chase stood, and turned to go. He swung back around when the front door opened a few inches, and Iris peered at him with those dark brown eyes framed with long lashes. Dakota sat at her side, his tongue lolling out. At least one of them was happy to see him.

As if they were in the middle of a conversation, Chase added a touch of humor, "Plus, I got you a present, and it's too small for me."

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to leave?"

He crouched so they were eye to eye. "Before you came to work for me, the businesses were fine. But now, they're running like finely tuned machinery, and business in booming for both because of it. This keeps up, and we should think about opening another club. Just not in Vancouver."

"Why not Vancouver?"

"Long story."

Iris backed up, turned, and rolled into the living room, inviting him in without words. "If those are examples of lines you used on previous girlfriends, no wonder you're still single."

Chase closed and locked the front door, and rushed to get in front of her. "So, _don't_ stay for the work." Holding onto the arms of her chair so she couldn't leave, he went down on one knee. "Stay because I'm falling for you." Iris' eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. "If you don't feel the same, you're welcome to kick me out, and I'll move into the IT office. Obviously, we would no longer be able to continue sharing, and Tunnel Vision needs _you_ more than me." He heaved a sigh, and looked away. "I'll be heartbroken, of course."

~~O~~

Iris felt herself wavering though, not fifteen minutes ago, she'd been thinking of resigning. She smiled, and touched Chase's cheek. "Yes."

He looked confused. "Yes, to what?"

She held up her hand, palm out, and he touched it with his, their fingers automatically entwining. Not for the first time, she thought how perfectly they fit together, in work or play. "All of it. Yes, I'll stay, and yes, I feel the same."

A smile of pure delight brightened his features as he grabbed her around the waist, and fell back with her sprawled on his chest. Still getting used to her newfound strength, Iris carefully moved her knees to the outsides of his hips, and leaned down to kiss him.

Not wanting to be left out, Dakota licked them both in the face, making them yelp. "Ew! Go lie down, Dakota," Chase told the dog firmly. Dakota huffed, and went to lie by the sofa, head on his paws.

While Chase was distracted, Iris patted his pockets. "Where's my present?"

"Didn't bring it with me. Wasn't lying. I _did_ get you something. After Justin and I got out of jail, I didn't think to go get it before coming here."

"Jail? Do I even want to know why?"

He gave her a sheepish shrug. "Um, not really. They let us go once Joi and Steve paid for the damages."

"Damages?"

Chase wrapped her in his arms, and rolled until he was hovering above her. "Are you going to repeat _everything_ I say?"

Lightly pressing her palms to either side of his head, Iris brought him down for a kiss. "Tell me later. Right now, I want you."

"And _I_ want _you_."

She felt him pull away, and tightened her grip. "Here. On the floor."

"What if Andre comes home?"

"He's on tour. Won't be back until Friday."

Again, Chase smiled, this time cheekily. "In that case, I have a few ideas I'd like to try out."

Her arms went around his neck. "Mmm. Can't wait to hear them."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Guest Quarters**

Sitting in bed with a book on her lap, Pepper couldn't stop thinking about the life-model decoy Tony had made of her. He'd given a logical explanation for its presence, but she didn't buy all of the story, because it looked too real. It even had that little mole on the back of her wrist. Why would Tony include so much detail for an android to be used in a lab experiment?

She tossed the covers aside, shoved her feet into slippers, and left the guest quarters without a robe. Her flannel pajamas would keep her warm enough.

There had to be a way for her to get into the isolation room. That was another thing that didn't ring true. Why keep the thing in isolation? Wouldn't it be easier to monitor in the lab?

Instead of the lift, Pepper took the stairs down to the floor where she'd seen the other her. Every step of the way, she expected Jarvis to comment, or Tony to have set some sort of trap for her. Yet, somehow, she made it all the way to the decontamination room without incident.

Standing in front of the door, she gave another moment's thought to what she was about to do, and pressed her hand to the scanner.

~~O~~

For the second time in less than a day, Bruce and Tony were disturbed by alarms going off in the isolation room where the flesh and blood Pepper lay in a coma.

Upon arrival, the alarms were silenced and the lights stopped flashing. The men shared a look at seeing the doors that led to the decontamination room had been ripped from their hinges. The bodies of three women and two men lay on the floor, here and just inside the doorway to Pepper's room.

Bruce crouched to check their pulse, nodding to Tony with relief. "They've been knocked out. Might have concussions, but they'll live." He stood. "No need to guess who did this."

Tony searched, and found the Pepper-bot lying on her side next to some overturned equipment. Thank God they had backups that kicked in when these went offline. He knelt next to the Pepper-bot, and turned her onto her back. Her lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. "Jarvis, what happened?"

" _I tried to dissuade the life-model decoy from entering, but she ignored my entreaties. The medical staff also tried to reason with her without success_."

"Ya _think_."

Jarvis continued as if Tony hadn't spoken. " _She attempted to strangle Ms. Potts, and I was forced to deactivate her_."

"Good job. Wake up the off duty medical staff, clue them in to what happened." Tony motioned Bruce over, and together, they carried the Pepper-bot out into the hall just as Happy arrived with a stretcher. He helped them lay her down, and fastened the straps across her legs and torso.

"What now, boss?"

Tony grabbed the end of the stretcher, and pulled it with him to the lift. "SI can't be without its CEO. We'll just have to reprogram her, and remove the memories from the last twenty-four hours."

"She won't remember seeing Ms. Potts _or_ trying to kill her?"

"No. And you can't say a word, Happy. Not to anyone. _Ever_." The lift stopped on the robotics lab level, and the three men rolled the stretcher into the diagnostic room. "Go back to bed, Hap. We got this."

The chauffeur and security specialist found a chair and sat down. "I'm staying."

 **The Barton Farm**

 **Sunrise**

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Laura saw Wanda through the window sitting on the wood pile as she'd done every morning since they arrived, and wondered what the girl thought of their family, and how they lived. She had to know what her mother did for a living, and that Clint often received assignments as her partner. How did the young girl and her brother handle the knowledge that any time Natasha went out of town for "business" she might not come back? Laura, herself, had made peace with it not long after she and Clint had fallen in love.

To keep from waking the rest of the household, Laura used a pan on the stove to heat water for tea. Decaf, because she was pregnant, and didn't want to chance another miscarriage. The joy of seeing the positive test had blanked out some of the events just prior. When they got home from dinner, after Clint had gone to sleep, she thought about everything that happened. How Wanda had ordered her to stay away from the fire, and afterwards, when she suggested that she take a pregnancy test.

Laura took out two cups, filled the strainers with tea leaves, hooked them on the edge of the cups, and poured in the hot water. While it steeped, she pulled on boots and a jacket against the early morning chill, and tucked her hair up under a knit cap. She stuck a second cap into her back pocket, and returned for the tea. After dropping the strainers in the sink, she carried the cups out to the wood pile, and handed one to Wanda.

The girl took the cup, giving her a smile as she scooted over to make room. She sniffed the tea, and took a cautious sip. "Mmm. This is good. Thank you."

"It's you who deserves thanks, or I might've lost my family _and_ our home. And we would've gone at least another week filled with frustration that I still wasn't pregnant." Laura set her cup down, and moved closer to Wanda. She wound her long hair into a rope and pulled the cap on over it, making sure the ears were covered. "The things you can do…"

"They're called psionics. I can move objects with my mind, create shields, and generate small energy blasts. I also have some telepathy, though it takes concentration to read a person's emotions. When I touched you yesterday, something told me only that you should be kept from harm. It wasn't until the excitement was over that I realized you were with child." She looked away, brought the cup to her lips for another sip then rested it on her knee. "There may be other abilities that I have yet to discover."

Stretching her legs out, Laura picked up her cup. "Are you able to tell gender yet?"

Wanda shook her head. "The child is too small at this point."

"Guess Nat will have to wait to find out if she's getting a namesake." The sun could now be seen through the trees that had already begun to lose their leaves for the winter. "And Pietro?"

"Super speed, as you saw. Accelerated perception and agility, increased metabolism-he's _always_ hungry-and the ability to heal quickly. The burns he received will have healed by now." Wanda watched her from the side. "You are not frightened of someone who is what the government calls an Inhuman?"

Reaching out, Laura tucked a few stray hairs under the edge of Wanda's cap. "If you were going to hurt us, you wouldn't have saved our lives, or our home."

The girl looked away shyly. "Will you and I make breakfast today?"

Laura took out her phone. "We can. Let's look up some cool recipes."

 **The Job Site**

 **Early Morning**

Justin rolled up to the site of his former sanctuary, put the kickstand down, and shut off the bike's engine. The helmet hung on the handlebars so he could take off his riding gloves and black leather jacket.

He was always the first one on-site, and would often just sit and watch the sun come up. Thinking about the fight with Chase, he wondered if all his loved ones felt the same. That brought him to Rey, and an epiphany of sorts. Had he been acting like an ass to her too? Like her feelings about his death didn't matter as much as his? Was it a factor in her decision to send him away?

She was right about him needing friends outside of his family. Every time his co-workers asked him to go have a beer and watch the game after work, he declined. Right then, he made up his mind to go the next time, or even make it his idea. Maybe even host a small game-watching party at his apartment. There wasn't much room, but they were guys. They'd be fine as long as he had beer and snacks. With his background at Tunnel Vision, he'd come up with some awesome snacks.

The distinctive sound of Gary's dually coming down the road interrupted Justin's quiet introspection. Gary pulled in and parked, Justin giving him a quick wave as he passed. He ambled over, and Gary handed him a large thermos. "Wife asked me to give you this as thanks for helping out the other night."

"Glad to do it." He held up the thermos with a smile. "Is this what I think it is?"

Gary leaned in to take out his lunch bag. "Miss Nola's smothered green beans with sausage and potatoes. Straight outta Nawleans."

He opened the thermos, inhaled the unique scent of the sausage, and replaced the stop. "Thank her for me." They waved as more of the crew arrived. "Gary, I've been going through a rough time, and want to apologize for being difficult lately."

The men headed for the prefab work shed that housed the tools. "No big thing, Finn. The guys, Isla and Ces are pretty laid back. Plus, I let 'em know you're workin' through some stuff, and to let you slide for a while."

Justin slapped Gary on the back. "Well, my sliding days are over. When I'm being an ass, call me out."

His boss peered at him closer. "Boy, where'd you get that black eye?"

He fingered the bruise that would be gone by tomorrow, shrugging sheepishly. "Sibling rivalry got a little out of hand." He hooked a tool belt over his shoulder, pulled on work gloves, and picked up a sledgehammer. "Knocking down the storage shed ought to cast out any lingering enmity."

The older man laughed. "You _do_ have a way of talkin', Finn. Lingerin' enmity." Gary shook his finger at him. "That's a good one."

Bowing slightly, Justin said, "Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I will say no more." He shouldered the sledgehammer, saluted Gary, and headed off to work.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Guest Quarters**

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

At the call from Happy, Pepper sat up on the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Good morning." He was standing in the doorway of her room holding a tray. "Put it on the table, please, Happy."

He did as she asked, and stood beside the table with his hands behind his back. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Ms. Potts."

She padded toward the bathroom. "I must've been sicker than I thought. Don't remember a thing since I got back from Singapore."

"Tried to get you to go to the doctor, but you wanted Dr. Banner to treat you."

The door closed, and she raised her voice to be heard. "That doesn't sound like me." She came out a few minutes later, having combed her hair while in there. "Is Tony around?"

"In the lab, as usual. Some big project code-named Friday."

Pepper chuckled as she placed the napkin in her lap. "She's a back-up program for Jarvis. As in 'My Girl Friday'."

"Or like that joke. The only person who can get everything done by Friday is Robinson Crusoe."

Happy rushed to pour her a coffee from the carafe. He really was sweet. "Sounds like Tony. Um, didn't I have a meeting?"

"Rescheduled for this afternoon. Called them myself, and they were happy to accommodate. Seems some of the other attendees were sick too."

Reaching out, Pepper gave Happy's hand a squeeze. "You take such good care of me. What would I do without you?"

There was a flash of something in his eyes then it was gone. "Let's hope you never have to find out."

~~O~~

Happy closed the door, his smile going away as soon as he saw Tony. They walked to the lifts. "I _really_ don't like this, boss."

Tony squeezed his shoulder. "I know. I'm working on perfecting the programming."

" _Sir, Dr. Banner is requesting your presence in the lab_."

"On my way." To Happy, he said, "Keep your chin up, and remember what I said."

The chauffeur raised his hands. "Take it to the grave, boss."

He watched Tony get on the lift, then made his way to the common area. The hallway on the other side housed the apartments built for the Avengers. Though after the attempted coup by HYDRA, who knew if they'd ever be a team again.

To keep from thinking about it, Happy helped himself to a cup of coffee, and food from the refrigerator.

 **Iris' Home**

The water shut off, and Chase hung the hand-held shower sprayer on its hook while Iris squeezed excess water from her hair. He sat beside her, and pulled her onto his lap. "Have I mentioned how much I love your walk-in tub?"

She let her fingers play in his hair. "A time or two. What do you love most about it?"

"The water makes it easier to do this…" Chase lifted and turned her so that they were now face to face, bringing their bodies close together. Iris placed her knees on either side of his thighs and slowly lowered herself, gasping as they were joined. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she moved, and he helped by holding onto her hips. The speed of their movements increased, splashing water over the side.

In the hall, Dakota watched with fascination as a pool of water oozed under the door. He sniffed it, but didn't take a drink. The sound of a key in the front door sent him trotting down the hall to greet Iris' brother Andre, home early from his tour.

~~O~~

"Iris? Whose SUV is that in the driveway?" There was no answer to Andre's summons so he walked down the hallway with Dakota at his side. He saw the water on the hardwood floor at the same time he heard a high-pitched moan that ended on a gasp coming from inside the bathroom. Tilting his head to the side, Andre knocked. "Iris?" Now Andre heard voices and splashing. "Are you okay? Answer me Iris, or I'm coming in."

" _No! Don't! I-I'll be right out_." There was fumbling around, and the distinctive sucking noise of water being let out of the tub. More fumbling, and rustling of cloth against skin.

Andre stepped back when the door opened, and he was met with a very strange scene. His sister was wrapped in her fluffy robe, and being held in the arms of dark-haired Caucasian man wearing only a towel. He looked them up and down. "Uh…"

"Andre, this is Chase Lockwood, my boss. Chase, my brother Andre."

Chase eased past him, nodding and smiling. "Good to finally meet you, Andre."

Shocked that his paraplegic sister was having sex with her boss, in the tub no less, Andre couldn't speak. He just stared as the couple went into her bedroom. Chase put Iris on the bed, and came back to the door. "Dakota."

The dog perked up, his tail wagging as he ran into the bedroom, and Chase closed the door.

~~O~~

Chase flopped on the bed next to Iris, barely able to contain his laughter. "The look on your brother's face was _priceless_."

Rolling onto her side, Iris brushed her fingers lightly over his wet skin, down his chest, skimming over the soft edge of the towel until she found the end tucked in. "I'll get the third degree once we're alone." They kissed, and she pulled back to say, "Let's not talk about my brother."

"Agreed." Chase returned the favor, caressing her cheeks, and trailing his fingers down the sides of her neck to the edge of the robe. He reached between them to untie the belt, and quickly and efficiently, removed it so that she was bared to his eyes.

At the same time, Iris tugged the corner of the towel free, and pushed it off his hip. Holding onto her waist, he rolled onto his back, looking up into her beautiful face, topped off by the towel wrapped like a turban around her hair.

With just a little encouragement on his part, they picked up where they left off, and were awash in sensation once again.

 **The Barton Farm**

 **Early Evening**

Clint nocked an arrow, brought the bow into position, drew the string back, exhaled, and released. The arrow leaped from the bow, and stuck dead center of the bullseye with the others. His audience applauded, and he took a bow.

Standing with Cooper and Lila, Pietro eyed him. "You've never missed a shot?"

"Not since I was your age, pal." Clint waved his arm. "Pick something, and I'll hit it, as long as it's not an animal or a human."

Pietro looked around in thought. "See that tree stum…"

Before the words were out of his mouth, Clint sent another arrow flying to stick in the side of the stump. At the boy's jaw-drop, Clint smirked. "That's why they call me Hawkeye. I can do this all day, and most of the night, as long as there's enough light to see by or I have night vision goggles." Clint waved him over. "Wanna try?"

He placed the bow in Pietro's hands, and positioned his fingers and arms correctly. "Pull the string back so that your index finger is under your chin. Aim using your dominant eye, and align the arrow with the target… Relax your grip on the string…" Pietro did as instructed, the arrow flying to where it stuck into what was left of the barn.

Pietro's shoulders sagged. "It is not as easy as you make it look."

"I've also been doing it since I was your age." He looked at the sky. "Looks like it might…"

The boy shoved the bow at him, and took off so fast, no one saw him leave. Wanda smiled indulgently as Cooper and Lila ran inside to be with him. "He does not care for storms. It reminds him of the day our parents were killed."

Laura came to stand with Clint, and he put his arm around her. "Yet he went out in the storm to save my husband and kids. That's makes him even more of a hero."

"He also does not like to be called a hero. We did what we did because it was the right thing to do, and because we care about your family."

His wife drew Wanda close enough to kiss her on the cheek. "That's for you." She kissed the other cheek. "And that's for Pietro." Then, she hugged her. "That's for both of you."

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Evening**

Shuffling through the mail, mostly ads, Justin cut through the pool area, and past the laundry room to get to his apartment at the back of the complex. It was quiet, even after nine at night. One reason he chose this one over another.

A small sound stopped him in his tracks. Tilting his head, he concentrated, and just when he thought he'd imagined it, he heard it again. He shoved the mail into the back pocket of his jeans as he followed the sound to the small field in back.

The complex was surrounded on three sides by a high fence. He jumped the fence, keeping his senses tuned to his surroundings in case it was a ruse.

Soon, he found what had to be the source of the squeaks. A feral cat had given birth in the field, within the past few days, he guessed, because the kittens still had their umbilical cords. Justin crouched to get a closer look at the mother. She was covered in blood mixed with dirt and leaves, matting her tiger-striped fur. Her hind end was turned at an unnatural angle even for a cat, and one of her back legs had been broken, the bone sticking out through the skin, reminding him of the night he'd been taken by HYDRA.

He lifted one cold and stiff front paw. The pads had been scraped raw, and the claws worn to nubs. She'd obviously been hit by a car, and had used the last of her strength to return to her kittens. There were three. Mother and babies were all dead.

Then, in the middle of the pile, he saw movement, and heard the squeak again.

All that blood kind of grossed him out, but he couldn't leave. Not if there were the slightest chance that one of the babies had survived. If he left, it would be dead before morning.

Justin carefully lifted the small, stiff bodies on top, and set them aside. There, under its dead siblings where it was shielded from the elements, was a single kitten barely alive.

 **TBC**


	89. Chapter 89

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 89**

Justin quickly shed his jacket, pulled off his shirt, and gently wrapped the tiny furball in the flannel that retained his body heat, leaving only the face exposed. The moment he touched it, the kitten cried louder, clawing and squirming to get closer to what it must've thought was Mom. He put the jacket back on, slipped the bundle inside, and zipped the front. As it warmed, the kitten's cries got louder. It had to be fed, and soon.

He rushed to his apartment, turned on the heat, and left the jacket on so the kitten would stay warm. Before doing anything else, Justin turned on his laptop, and looked up videos on how to care for orphaned kittens. The first hit was for a woman going by the online moniker of "Kitten Queen". He clicked on the first video, and within seconds, knew he'd hit the jackpot.

Kitten Queen's videos were detailed, informative, and easy to understand. According to the slender woman covered in tattoos, the first and most important step was never feed a cold kitten. Justin wiggled a finger into the flannel nest and found the ears and foot pads cool, but not icy cold. According to the video, he was already on the right track by holding the kitten against his body for warmth.

To feed the tiny animal, he would need formula, a bottle kit, something called a miracle nipple, a mini to start with, a 3-cc syringe, a way to warm the formula, and a blender bottle to eliminate lumps. She also recommended either a microwavable heating pad, or an adjustable electric heating pad, and a stuffed animal with a heartbeat. The Discount Mart up the street had most of what he needed, but he couldn't leave the baby alone.

It had stopped crying, and Justin was afraid it was dead. But when he touched the tiny head, it nuzzled his fingers. He pulled the zipper up, adjusted how the bundle lay, and left the apartment.

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

Justin set up a box with a heating pad, a soft towel, and one of those bears with a heartbeat as a bed for the kitten.

He bought premixed kitten formula so he could get started without too much fuss. With the video playing on the laptop, he filled the syringe, put a small nipple on it, and held the kitten as if it were lying on its stomach. He stuck the nipple in the baby's mouth, and was relieved when it began "nursing".

When the kitten was done eating, he placed it on his shoulder, and rubbed the back until it burped. This next part Justin didn't like, but it had to be done. He used a warm, wet disposable washcloth to rub its booty to help it eliminate. He cleaned up, swaddled the kitten in a small, soft towel, Kitten Queen called it a purrito, and cradled it against his chest inside his shirt until it fell asleep.

Carrying the small bundle into the bedroom, he lay it in the box next to his bed, turned on the bear, and sat there watching it sleep. "Can't keep calling you it, can I? Tomorrow, we go to the vet and get you checked out, little buddy."

Justin called Gary to let him know he wouldn't be in the next few days, and checked on the kitten one more time before leaving the apartment. He went to the shed, let himself in through an unlocked window, and came out with a shovel. He tramped into the woods to where he'd found the mother and babies, unwilling to let their bodies lie there for predators to desecrate.

He dug a hole approximately two feet on a side, three feet deep. With reverence, he laid the mother in the bottom, and the kittens in front of her as if they were nursing. Bowing his head, he said a silent prayer that their trip across the rainbow bridge had brought them to a better place, that they were warm and safe.

Vowing the mother cat's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain, Justin returned to the baby he'd saved, showered, and got ready for bed. He set the alarm to wake him in two hours, and lay down with his hand inside the box. The kitten nuzzled his fingers, and within a few minutes, both were asleep. For one of the few times since leaving Rey, his dreams were pleasant.

 **Tunnel Vision**

The rear door opened, and Iris rolled in as usual. Her legs had continued to gain strength, but she still used the chair, just in case. She stopped in front of the office door. The club was strangely quiet. Rolling down the hall to the dining area, she found out why.

Chase had gathered the employees in an impromptu meeting. He was pacing in front of the bar, rubbing his hands together the way he did when he was embarrassed or rattled by an event.

"I can't promise life here will be skittles and beer all the time…" polite chuckles flowed through the group, "…but I will try my best to be the boss you deserve." He stopped, and gestured with his hands. "Again, I'm sorry for the ill-will I've caused."

Iris clapped her hands to get their attention. "Everyone back to work. We have a party to get ready for tonight."

The employees scattered, with Luke the last one to go. Chase leaned down for a kiss, turned the chair around, and pushed it back toward the office. "Too bad you weren't here for the original apology. It was epic. I cried, and begged their forgiveness."

"As long as they don't quit." Iris pushed the door open, and Chase maneuvered the chair into their office. She put the brakes on, pushed the foot rests out of the way, and stood while he put the chair out of the way.

"Wow!"

With a smile, Iris lifted her chin, knowing Chase's response was to what she was wearing. "You like?"

His eyes scanned her from head to toe and back with an entranced smile. "Me likes very much."

~~O~~

Chase took Iris' hand, amazed at the change. He'd only ever seen her in pants or naked. Never in a skirt. He thought her beautiful before, but now she was stunning.

The dress was midnight blue with a subtle leopard design, and form-fitting to the bottom of her hips where it flared out into a ruffle that ended an inch above her knees.

Her shoes were a surprise too. Black, to match the leopard spots, with a short heel, instead of sneakers or flats.

The sides of her dark hair were pulled back, showing off her slender neck, collar bones, and diamond studs in her ears.

"Don't move." Chase reached under his desk for one of the gifts he'd gotten her, holding it behind his back. "You need a little swagger to go with that outfit." He held out the first of the gifts, an ebony black cane with filigreed designs in the silver grip.

Iris took it in both hands, looking it over with a smile. "It's perfect, Chase." She set the tip on the floor, and posed with one knee slightly bent. "Now all I need is a steampunk dress, knee-high lace-up boots, and a top hat."

He bowed low to the floor, sweeping off an imaginary hat. "M'lady, may I escort you to your place of employment?" He extended his elbow, and she held on tight with her free hand as he led her around the side of the desk. Once she was seated. he leaned close to whisper in her ear, "You look amazing, just like always."

She turned her head to kiss him on the lips. "Thank you. I haven't worn a dress in a long time because my legs get cold. But now that I'm stronger, I thought, why not."

Chase crouched so they were face to face, stealthily placing one hand on her knee, and sliding it up her thigh, under the skirt. "It wasn't so I could do this?" He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp.

She pulled back, her breath coming in short pants. The hand on the desk clenched. "N-no, oh! That would be… mmm…"

His lips peppered her jaw with small kisses back to her ear. "Brazen? Shamelessly wanton? Sexy as hell?"

Chase stepped up his game, bringing her to a gratifying conclusion. "O-oh!" Those small, strong hands framed his cheeks and brought him to her for a long kiss. She separated them, and pressed their foreheads together. "You, Chase Lockwood, are a naughty, naughty boy."

The hand on her thigh moved to her waist. "And I should be punish-" It was his turn to gasp at the first, highly aggressive touch of her hand on the front of his pants, causing a predictable reaction. He wanted her to stop, yet he didn't. "You shouldn't do that unless you're prepared to deal with the conse-, um, consequences."

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle them. But just in case…"

There was a knock on the door, startling them both. The door opened, and Alex stuck his head in.

Without skipping a beat, Chase rubbed a finger under Iris' eye. "There. Got it." He pretended to wipe something on his pants, barely able to speak because Iris had not stopped what she was doing.

She blinked, and smiled. "Thanks."

Chase stood, turning away from Alex to hide the evidence of Iris' "punishment". He opened the mini-fridge, and took out two bottles of water, handing one to Iris before going to his desk. "What's up, Alex?"

The manager came in and closed the door, seeming to not feel the tension in the room. "Ms. Gilbert-Fitzgerald is here to finalize the party." He lowered his voice. "For someone named Patience, she has very little."

The computer on Chase's desk beeped through the start-up, and Iris responded for him. "Bring that fancy chair she likes then show her in, please."

"You got it." Alex as back in seconds with the chair, and was gone again. Chase and Iris exchanged sheepish grins that turned to welcoming smiles when the door opened.

Ms. Patience Gilbert-Fitzgerald, of the Vermont Gilbert-Fitzgeralds, as she was fond of reminding them, breezed into the room, and seated herself in front of Iris. She set her designer handbag on the desk, pulled off her hand-stitched leather gloves, held them in one hand. "I am so sorry to bother you, my dears, but I have some last-minute changes to the menu for the party."

She fished in her purse, and handed Iris a sheet of paper. Iris unfolded it, barely able to keep her eyes from bugging out. This wasn't a minor change. It was a complete redo. "It's a little late, Ms. Fitzgerald, but we'll do our best to accommodate your request."

Chase had to give it to Iris. She made it sound as if they could do as she asked, while at the same time saying they couldn't. "I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle, right, Iris?"

The tight smile she flashed at him had an element of annoyance he didn't like. Iris pushed back from the desk, using the cane to help her stand. "I'll have a word with Chef immediately. Perhaps it's not too late."

Their guest reached into her purse, coming out with a stack of cash. From here, Chase guessed it to be several thousand dollars. She pushed it across the desk with a grin. "Will this help?"

With hardly a pause, Iris scooped it up, and dropped it in her desk drawer. "It's a start. If you'll excuse me."

When Iris had gone, Ms. Gilbert-Fitzgerald turned to look at him with a thoughtful expression. "I like Iris. The two of you would make an adorable couple, Chase. You should think about asking her on a date."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The front door burst open, Pietro dropped his bag by the stairs, and ran into the living room to flop down on the floor. "I am so glad to be home!"

The cats came running down the stairs crying, and demanding attention as Wanda, Natasha and Bucky followed in the boy's wake, literally. He'd run from the car to the house, and was inside so fast, the breeze had knocked leaves from the hedges to the left and right of the front door.

One by one, the rest of the family joined Pietro, with the women sitting on the sofa, and Bucky joining him on the floor. "Me too, pal. That was a _long_ layover in Chicago."

"Too long to hang out at the airport, not long enough to get in some sight-seeing." Natasha kicked off her shoes and socks, and stretched out on the sofa with her head on the arm, and her eyes closed. "Oh, that feels good," she murmured when a pair of hands began massaging her feet.

Wanda sat at the other end, also with her shoes off, a narrow ribbon of red mist extending from her fingers to Natasha's feet.

Bucky was nearly asleep when Pietro nudged him with a foot. "Are we going to have dinner soon, James? I'm…"

The other three chorused, "…hungry!" It was a familiar refrain, and now his parents knew why.

A woman's wallet hit the floor next to Pietro. In a sleepy voice, Natasha muttered, "Order pizza. One veggie…"

"I would like the one with pineapple," Wanda called out.

"One double everything except anchovies for me," was Bucky's contribution. He grunted as he stood, and waved Wanda out of the way so he could sit by Natasha. "And whatever you want, Pietro. Don't forget the salad, and drinks."

Pietro went into the kitchen with Wanda, leaving their parents alone. Natasha sat up, and Bucky draped his arm around her shoulders. "Feed the cats while you're in there!"

" _We will! Yes, I would like to place an order to be delivered…_ "

Bucky patted Natasha on the foot. "I'd forgotten how tedious flying commercial could be."

She swung her legs to the floor and sat up. "Sorry, my love, but my resources aren't as vast as they were a few months ago. And trading on my friendship with Stark has to stop." She waggled a hand. "Or we have to be more judicious in our requests."

"Forget about him, and concentrate on me." Bucky pulled her close, and joined their mouths in a hot exchange, until they heard Pietro's angry voice coming toward the living room mixed with Wanda's.

"…No, I didn't _steal_ the credit card, _ebanashka_. It belongs to my mother… Her name is Natasha Romanoff-Barnes… Yes, I _know_ I don't sound like her, but I'm still her son…"

Wanda pulled the hand with the phone away from Pietro's ear, "And I am her daughter. We just want to order _pizza_. Must you be so…"

Natasha snatched the phone from her son, and sat down next to Bucky again. "Frank? Natasha… Yes, he's my son… Pietro, and his sister's name is Wanda…" The man was being so obtuse, she pulled out one of her hidden cards. "Frank, don't be such an ass or we'll take our business down the street to Solo Mio… Yes, I thought you'd understand once I explained the situation. Here's Pietro."

She handed the phone to her son with a smug grin. The boy and his sister looked impressed as they wandered back toward the kitchen.

"… _one medium pan pizza with the ham and pineapple… one medium vegetable, thin crust, extra black olives… two large supremes with double everything, but none of those little fish… The biggest salad you have, no dressings, and two of the big bottles of Coke._ "

Bucky pulled her close again, brushing his lips over her temple. "He'll make a great social secretary one day. That is if we can get him to stop calling people crazy."

"Leave him alone, _lyubimaya_. In this case, the cause was sufficient." Natasha rubbed his thigh. "Tomorrow, they'll have to buckle down to their studies and chores."

"They won't like it."

She poked him in the stomach. "Has to be done, if they want to go to university in a couple of years, and don't want to live in a messy home."

The kids came back. Pietro dropped Natasha's wallet on the end table, and he and Wanda sat next to them. Natasha held Pietro's and Bucky's hands, and leaned forward so she could see Wanda. "We make a good team, don't we?"

Wanda held her brother's hand so the four of them were linked. "Yes, we do."

Once again, Natasha was inundated by visions that refused to slow down enough for her to bring them into focus. Bucky's grip on her hand tightened fractionally, telling her he saw them too. Were these visions hers, Bucky's, or did they belong to the twins? Or were they a combination of all four? There was no way to tell.

Like the previous time, the visions stopped when they separated. She resisted looking at the twins to see if they'd seen the visions as well. Bucky and she would talk about it later, but with what they now knew about their children, how could they ever keep anything secret again?

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Morning**

Before taking the kitten to the vet, Justin tried a different tact for feeding it. This time, he laid the kitten on its belly, rested the syringe on the bear, and moved the nipple around until the kitten latched on. The kitten put its tiny feet on the bear, pressing the side with alternating paws the way they do with their mommas.

When the baby was done eating, he left it in the box next to the bear, letting it feel the fur, heartbeat and warmth. As before, after wiping its booty, he swaddled it, and placed it inside his shirt until it went to sleep.

Careful not to wake it, Justin laid it back in the box, and rushed to get dressed. They were expected at the vet soon, but it was too cold to take the bike. "You need a car, _mu'dak_. We'll stop on the way home, won't we, _malyutka_?"

 **At the Vet Clinic**

Even though Justin trusted the doctor and her assistant to know what they were doing, it still made him antsy watching them examine the kitten.

"…well, Mr. Lockwood, considering how you found this little guy, he's in pretty good shape."

Relieved, Justin leaned on the edge of the table. "Thank God. A couple of times during the night, I thought he was gone, but he kept coming back."

The woman, heavyset, with graying hair, and a ready smile, nodded. "Are you sure you want to do this yourself? I can give you the number of someone who can take him for you."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure. He's staying with me." To the assistant, he said, "His name's Dexter." The young man made a note in the file, and came back. "Doc, I hate to ask, but can your staff take care of him for a couple hours? All I have is a motorcycle. I need to get a car."

The veterinarian stared at him as if he'd done something uncivilized in public. "How did you get here?"

"Took an Uber." Justin slipped into his jacket, and pulled a cap down over his ears. "I'll be back soon." Before they could comment or try to stop him, he was out the front door, phone in hand. "Bro, I need a favor…"

~~O~~

Four hours later, Justin was the proud owner of a used Kia Soul. It was nowhere near as big as his SUV, but it worked for him and little Dexter. Now the kitten would be super warm on the drive home.

The tank was full, and the tags were good for two years. On the way back to the vet's, he stopped for a celebratory beer at Tunnel Vision, and to show off the car and Dexter. Those employees who knew him, and a few of those who didn't, gathered around to see the photos he'd taken of Dexter at home and at the vet.

"Dude, you should _totally_ start a Facebook and Instagram account for him," one of the female servers declared, and others agreed.

At the hallway that led to storage, supplies, and the offices, Iris stood with only the assistance of a black cane. Justin excused himself, and went to talk to her. "Look at you, Iris. Standing and walking on your own."

"Yeah. Don't want to examine the how and why too closely or I might find out it's a dream."

She turned around, and Justin followed her to the office. "Understood." He pushed the office door open, and went in behind her. Chase wasn't at his desk.

Once Iris was seated, Justin sat on the corner of her desk holding his phone, waiting for an opportunity to show off Dexter. With a grin, Iris held out her hand, and Justin put the phone in it. She scrolled through the photos. "Oh, isn't he the tiniest, cutest little thing! And you're going to bottle feed him yourself?"

"I am. He's at the vet's getting checked out. Gotta pick him up soon." He watched Iris' eyes moving over the photos, her lips turned up in a smile. "You're in love with my brother, aren't you?"

Coming out of the blue, the question flustered her. She handed the phone back without looking at him. "Who told you that?"

As if they were in a roomful of people who might be listening, Justin looked around, and leaned forward. "It's not exactly a secret. He talks about you all the time, and to hear him tell it, he spends more time at your house than he does at his condo."

"I've been to his condo. He's never invited me spend the night though."

Justin slid off the desk and dropped into a chair. "It may have to do with your special circumstances. He probably thinks you're more comfortable at your place. Though with this new walking thing, that could change. Word of advice, if you don't mind." Iris gestured for him to continue. "He's been burned a couple of times, and though he might tell you he loves you, it could take a while for him to move on to the next step, provided living together is something you both want."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He popped out of the chair, and went to the door. "Gotta go. Don't tell him I gave away one of his secrets."

Iris snorted. "That's not a problem, considering he had a front row seat for one of mine." At his questioning glance, she explained, "My ex-husband applied for the bouncer's position. Needless to say, he did _not_ get the job."

"Good. Too much drama in this family already." He grinned sardonically. "I could write a book, but no one would believe most of it." A quick wave was the last she saw before he closed the door.

He left the way he came in, got in the car and broke several speed laws getting back to the vet's office. When he arrived, a woman was leaning in the front passenger door of her car, forcing him to park a space away.

Inside, all conversations among the staff came to a stop, and he was presented with one jaw-drop after the other. The doctor cleared her throat, and stepped forward, her eyes darting over his shoulder and back. "Mr. Lockwood. We, uh, didn't think you were coming back."

Justin huffed at them. "I said would." Now the doctor looked guilty, setting off alarms, and filling him with dread. "Where's Dexter? What happened to my kitten?"

 **TBC**

Kitten Queen is based on The Kitten Lady:

Hannah Shaw has dedicated her life to finding innovative ways to protect animals. Her project,

Kitten Lady, strives to create global change in the way we perceive and treat the tiniest and most vulnerable felines: orphaned kittens.

Kitten Lady is changing the world for neonatal kittens by providing educational media and training resources about how to save the lives of the tiniest felines-in a fun and engaging format. The project has amassed a viral social media following and captured the attention of media outlets around the world.

Hannah Shaw provides rescue and adoption services to orphaned kittens in the Washington, DC area. She shares inspiring and adorable images from the daily life of a kitten rescuer on her Instagram and Facebook, and educational videos about kitten care through her YouTube channel.

Her organization, Kitten Lady Inc., provides free and low-cost resources to help animal shelters end the euthanasia of kittens.


	90. Chapter 90

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 90**

"What did you _do_ to him? Is he-is he _dead_?" Justin demanded to know.

At his tone, the doctor became defensive. "You were gone so long, I called a friend, an expert at caring for orphaned neonatal kittens, and she came to get him."

Angry, and not above showing it, Justin glared at the staff, and brought the flat of his hand down on the reception desk, making them jump. "How long ago did she leave? Which direction?"

One of the younger women pointed out the window. "That's her."

He swung around as the car reversed out of the parking space. His jacket came off so he'd have freedom of movement. He dropped it on the floor as he raced outside, and leapt over his new car, dived into a roll, and came to his feet in front of her car. She screeched to a stop, and when he didn't move, she got out, leaving one foot inside. "Do you _mind_? I need to get by."

"You have my kitten, and I want him back."

The woman got back into her car, buckled her seatbelt, and put the car in reverse, but she didn't get far. Justin grabbed the front end with his left hand, lifting it just high enough to negate traction. The vehicle was front wheel drive, and he'd just deprived it of the ability to move.

She rolled the window down, yelling, "What the hell are you doing? Back off, or I'm calling the police!"

He returned the favor, raising his voice, "Go ahead, and I'll tell them you stole my kitten!" Straightening his back to make himself look even taller, he leveled a glare on her. "Give Dexter back and I'll let you go!"

The engine wound down to idle when she took her foot off the gas, and she reluctantly nodded. Justin slowly lowered the front end to the ground, ready to grab hold if she tried to leave again. He stepped out of the way, and she pulled into her former parking spot. Annoyed, she shut off the engine, got out, and went around to the passenger side door. She opened it, took the box from the floorboard, and turned with it in both hands. "You can have him under one condition."

"No conditions. He's mine, and I'm taking him." The woman huffed, and held out the box, the sleeves of her jacket pulling up enough for him to see brightly colored tattoos on her wrists, and silver rings on both hands. Jet black hair stuck out from under her knit cap. His mouth dropped open for a moment then he nearly squealed with excitement. "I know who you are. _You're_ the Kitten Queen."

"Yes, I am." Relief showed on her face. "Olivia."

Tucking the box under his left arm, he grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "Justin. I've been watching your videos. They're _great_. Really taught me a lot about caring for a newborn kitten." He lifted the baby blanket covering the box to make sure Dexter was okay. Touching the little head with one finger, he murmured soothingly, "Hey, little buddy. How you doing? Daddy's here to take you home." Dexter squeaked in response to his whispered greeting. "Um, Olivia, I know we got off to a bad start, but it would _really_ help me out if you'd come to my apartment."

She was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Justin rushed to reassure her. "No, nothing like that. I think it's going pretty well between me and Dex, but I'd like you to check it all out, make sure I'm doing it right." She was considering it, he could tell. "As long as you're not vegan, I could make lunch, or have something delivered."

Olivia rubbed her hands together. "Vegetarian, not vegan. You got hot coffee?"

"I can make some."

She gestured at Justin's car. "Then lead the way."

 **Novi Grad**

 **Sokovia**

A guard pushing a pallet jack laden with boxes knocked on von Strucker's office door. The boxes were labeled as containing hazardous materials, including liquid nitrogen canisters. The scientist got to his feet, waving the guard away imperiously. He clapped his hands together with delight. "The specimens have finally arrived, Hans."

List examined the boxes on the bottom. "Yes. Stealing them from the American government is not as easy now as it was when HYDRA and SHIELD were one."

Von Strucker read over the shipping manifest that said the contents were volatile. "It appears that we have all the blood samples we'll need to complete 497's transformation into the new Asset."

"We'll have to do extensive testing, of course, to be certain that none have degraded over the decades."

"Agreed. It would not do to inject 497 with blood in which the serum had become inert." Von Strucker waved the guard over again. "Take this to the lab for analysis." When he'd gone, the men resumed their seats. "From the number of containers, it appears that we have all but a few of the vials of blood taken from the subjects."

List crossed one leg over the other. "I have often wondered, Wolfgang, what would have happened if we had used the serum _and_ the power of the Tesseract on a single subject." He raised a finger in the air. "Now we will find out."

 **The Lab**

Wearing protective clothing, goggles and gloves, the lab technicians opened the boxes with great care, and checked that each vial of blood was properly labeled. They would begin their analyses with the oldest specimens marked with dates from the latter part of the 1940s before moving onto the others.

Two of the technicians carried the unopened boxes to the walk-in cooler for storage until they were ready for them. The majority belonged to James Buchanan Barnes. The next largest group of specimens had come from Steve Rogers, with the fewest bearing the name of Justin Lockwood.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The shower shut off, and the curtain was pushed aside. To Bucky's delight, Natasha was standing there holding out a fluffy white towel. He dried his face and chest, wrapped the towel around his hips, and pulled her close. "James! You're all wet!"

"Well, duh. Just got out of the shower." He nuzzled her ear. "You should've joined me."

"No time. I've given the kids school work to get done before I get back."

He followed her out into the bedroom. "Back? From where?"

Natasha took the smaller of her rolling suitcases from the walk-in closet, the one she called her go-bag, laid it on the bed, and opened the side zipper. "Tony just received a message from Thor. Something to do with Loki's scepter. Before the coup, it was locked away in a super-secret SHIELD warehouse. Now it, and everything else that was in there, is gone." She kicked off her slippers, and sat on the bed to pull on a pair of boots. "We're assuming some of HYDRA's minions got away, and took everything with them."

"Why would Thor need the scepter after all this time?"

"Beats me. Guess I'll find out when we're all together at Tony's." She went to the vanity to run a brush through her hair, and Bucky followed. He rubbed her shoulders, jerking away when she grunted in pain.

"Sorry, babe. Did I hurt you?"

One hand went to her stomach just above her navel. "No. It's probably something I ate."

She seldom got heartburn or suffered from food-related problems, but there was a first time for everything, right? Bucky leaned down to kiss her on the neck. "Have a good trip, and take care of yourself. Did you say good-bye to the kids? All seven of them?"

Her smile was slightly dimmed, but not unexpected considering she had no idea what Thor was up to. "I did. Ryder even let me pick him up for a quick cuddle. Guess we're making progress."

At the bathroom door, he turned around. "Speaking of… I saw Ryder letting himself into Pietro's room the other night. Think he's changing sides?"

"Don't worry about it. You're still his favorite."

Bucky spread his arms out to the sides. "Hey, I'm everyone's favorite."

His wife looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Of course you are." She glanced at the clock. "Gotta go. Clint's picking me up in a few minutes."

The door closed behind her, and Bucky went back to his morning routine. Only today, he thought he'd try something new. He got out his razor and shaving foam, and shaved off his beard. Looking at his reflection, turning his head side to side, he thought it made him look even younger, reminding him why he'd grown it in the first place. He wiped off the excess foam with the towel around his waist, and tossed it over the curtain rod.

Taking out his comb, Bucky used it to bring order to his shoulder-length hair. He opened the drawer to drop the comb in when something odd caught his eye. He pulled a gray hair from between the comb's teeth, and held it up to the light. "Well, I'll be damned." Going to the door, he called out, "Pietro, did you use my comb?"

The boy appeared in front of him, making the tail of his towel flutter. "No, James. I did not. Why?"

"No reason." Bucky went back into his room, dropped the comb in the drawer, and leaned closer to the mirror, running his fingers through his hair looking for errant hairs, finding none. Relieved, he went to get dressed to go to the museum. He'd taken too much time off lately, what with adopting the kids, the Labor Day party, and taking them to visit Clint's family.

On the way to the office, he'd try to come up with an idea for his Halloween costume. Maybe he and Natasha could do a couples' thing this year.

~~O~~

At the slamming of the bedroom door, Wanda jumped up to catch Natasha at the bottom of the stairs. "Will James help us with anything we don't understand in our schoolwork?"

She set the bag down, and took Wanda's hand. "Or you could look it up on the Internet. But just between us girls, I think your father would be thrilled if you came to him for help."

"Then I will do so." Wanda picked up the bag, and opened the front door. Her mouth dropped open when a small aircraft appeared in the field across the street. "What's _that_?"

"Your Uncle Clint's picking me up then we're off to New York." Clint came out the back of the aircraft and waved. "I'll be back in a couple of days at most."

Making it seem an impulsive move, Wanda swept Natasha into a hug, holding tight. "We will miss you."

"I'll miss you too." Natasha squeezed back then eased out of her arms, and picked up the suitcase. "Want a souvenir? A New York Yankees t-shirt or cap?"

"Anything will be fine."

Natasha crossed the street, and Clint jumped the fence to take her suitcase. Within moments, they were gone again. Looking smug, Wanda went back inside.

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Evening**

Justin set the feeding syringe aside, and wiped Dexter's face with a tissue, smiling at the squeaks, and tiny paw waving in his direction. "There you go. All done. Now comes the fun part." He burped him, and wiped his booty. "It's embarrassing, I know, but you'll thank me when you're old enough to do it yourself."

One corner of the bedroom had been fixed up like a pint-sized nursery. Justin grabbed a hand towel from a stack he bought just for this purpose, and wrapped Dexter in the cloth, leaving just his tiny head sticking out. He held the bundle close, and soon, the little one was asleep.

He looked up when someone knocked on the door. Carrying Dexter with him, Justin went to see who it was, surprised to see… "Rey. What're you doing here?"

She held up her phone. "We have a date, remember?" Then she noticed the bundle in the crook of his arm. "What's that?"

Grinning with pride, Justin let Rey in, and quickly closed the door. "This is Dexter." He pulled the edges away so she could see his face.

"Is that a kitten?"

"Yeah. I found his mother and siblings dead in the field, but this little guy is a fighter." He set the kitten in the corner of the sofa to help Rey off with her jacket and scarf, laying them in the armchair.

She pulled off her knit cap, dropped it on the jacket. "Could I hold him?"

He waited until she was seated, and place Dexter in her arms. "His name's Dexter."

Her chuckle made him smile. "That's a strange name for a cat."

Justin shrugged. "He looks like a Dexter to me."

She stroked the kitten between the eyes, making his nose twitch. One little paw with needle-like claws got out, waving in the air as if looking for something. He took Dexter, and Rey followed him to the bedroom, watching while he set up the heating pad and bear. That one paw grabbed onto the bear as if hugging it and the wiggling stopped.

Out in the living room, Justin waited for Rey to initiate any gestures of affection. When she didn't, he picked up his phone. "I'll order dinner. What would you like?"

~~O~~

While waiting for the food to be delivered, Rey took a pill with water, thankful she only had to take them another couple of days. She really wanted to go out to eat just so she wouldn't be tempted to spend the night again. Justin couldn't get used to being alone if she was around all the time. To herself, Rey made a solemn vow to stay away from him for the foreseeable future. Or several months, at least.

Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, Rey watched Justin interact with Dexter, glad that he had somewhere to focus his nurturing instincts. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him before they ever met, the stories from Chase about his twin and how he cared for those around him, friend or not.

There was a knock at the door. "I'll go." On the way, she grabbed cash from her purse for a tip. The young man set the bags on the end table, accepted the cash, and was gone. "Smells good. Want me to set the table?" Normally, Rey wouldn't have asked, but they were in his home now.

" _Sure, go ahead. I'll be right out_."

Rey took two mismatched plates from the cabinet next to the sink, forks, knives and spoons from the drawer below it, and the roll of paper towels because, even now, Justin didn't own cloth napkins.

Once the table was set, and she'd poured them each a glass of wine, she took the containers from the bags and set them in the middle of the table so they could eat family style.

They watched a movie while they ate, and to Rey's chagrin, he chose the animated film _Frozen_ , and spent the next couple of hours singing _Let It Go_ in Russian while they played cards. He finally stopped when the alarm went off, reminding him to feed Dexter.

Justin fussed over the kitten as if he were a human baby. Rey watched him prepare the formula, fill the syringe, and attach the nipple. The tiny paws waved in the air, and Dexter sucked up the food as if it were the last meal he'd ever get.

Again, she ran a finger over the head, touching the ears, feeling them wiggle. "Could I try?"

"Sure." He let her take the syringe without removing it from Dexter's mouth. "Push gently on the plunger. Not too fast. That's it." When Dexter was done eating, Justin wiped his face with a disposable wipe, tossed it in the trash, and picked him up. "He has to be burped like a human baby. Hold him on your shoulder, and lightly rub his back."

Rey did as instructed and was rewarded with a small belch. "Oh, nice one, Dex. Now what?"

"Here's where the fun begins. We have to help him… go." She handed the kitten back, and held up her hands as if to say, "It's all you", making him chuckle. "Just what I thought. You can wait in the other room, if you like."

The door closed with a soft click, and Rey stood there listening to Justin talk to the kitten. At this age, he couldn't hear, but with him against Justin's chest, he'd feel the vibrations, giving comfort like his mother would.

She was standing looking out the window when she felt Justin's arms go around her waist, and pull her close. "You'd make a good father, Jay."

He nuzzled her ear, and she giggled. "Are you offering to be the mother? Because we can get started right now."

Turning within the circle of his embrace, Rey looped her arms around his neck. "Don't even joke about that. I'm not ready, and neither are you." His expression fell, and she was immediately contrite. "It's like this: You love me, and I love you, but you don't love yourself. Until you do, we really should stay away from each other."

The idea didn't go over well with Justin, that much she could tell. Her decision was only partly caused by his mental state. On the other side of that coin was the woman she'd seen him talking and laughing with in the parking lot of the vet's office. Rey had been about to turn into the lot to say hi, but then they left with the woman following him.

~~O~~

Knowing Rey was right didn't stop that brief moment of dismay from creeping in. Justin picked Rey up and went to sit on the sofa with her on his lap. "You're right." The hand on her thigh flexed at the touch of her fingers in his hair, stirring up all the feelings he still had for her.

Slanting a wicked smile at him, Rey touched his cheek, urging him to her for a kiss that was sweet, and tasted like good-bye. Their lips parted, and she smiled. "How long 'till Dexter's next feeding?"

"One hour and fifty-two minutes. Give or take."

"Good. Then we have time." She slid off his lap, and keeping hold of his hand, led him down the hall to the bedroom.

~~O~~

Sometime later, Rey and Justin were lying in bed, snuggled under the covers. "Why won't you let me look at you?"

"Because it's chilly in here, doofus." Justin stealthily hooked a finger over the top edge of the covers, lifting them so he could peek. Rey slapped his hand, and he grinned back. "What is it about men- _all_ men-wanting to see naked bodies all the time?"

"Um, it's a guy thing?"

She purposely poked him in the stomach with her elbow. "Especially breasts. Fifty percent of the population has them. They're used to feed babies, your mom and sisters have them. Really, what's the fuss about them?" One finger waved in the air. "And it's not just women's bodies and boobs, or straight men. Gay and bi men want to see them too."

"I'm sure the percentages are off a little. I hear John Travolta and Meat Loaf both have nice set of bongos." He thought for a moment, and shook his head. "Not sure. Let me have a quick look…" Again, Justin lifted the covered, turning his head side to side, looking at Rey's bare chest from different angles, then sighed. "Sorry. No idea. Yours are awesome, by the way. Just wanted you to know before we go our separate ways."

Rey rolled onto her side, lifted the covers, and straddled his hips. "You know what else is awesome?" She shifted her weight to the left hand next to his shoulder, and reached between them.

"Wh-Oh!" The reaction she produced pleased her, and he enjoyed it as well. To slow things down, Justin pulled her hand free, and rolled until she was under him again. He loved the feel of her firm, supple body against his. There was something else he loved too.

Pressing her hands into the pillow beside her head, he winked and smirked at her as he lightly trailed his fingers down the sensitive insides of her arms, and into the slight dip of her underarms. He purposely grazed the hard nubs of her breasts with his thumbs as he passed. Moving slowly backward, he kissed first her lips, chin, the hollow at the base of her neck, the smooth spot between her breasts, and the small protrusion of the end of her sternum.

He didn't stop there. Next, he dipped his tongue into her navel, thrilled with the small gasp it brought forth. Rey wiggled and writhed beneath him as he continued his journey toward his ultimate destination. And when he arrived, he reveled in the task of coaxing moans, gasps, and whimpering from her throat.

 **South Shore Elementary School**

 **Career Day**

Sitting behind the wheel of his car, Steve fingered the mask, while waiting for Natasha to put on her gloves. She wore a set of Widow's Bites that lit up, but didn't discharge electricity in order to keep the kids safe. Yet knowing her, she had at least three other weapons concealed, just in case, and the only way to know for sure where they were hidden was to strip-search her. Not that he, or the school, had plans to do so.

When Gracie had asked them to be guests at her class's career day, Nicole had spoken to the principal and security. To prevent alarms from going off, the two Avengers would be taken in through a back door.

They got out, slipped into coats that would cover up most of their uniforms, Steve's poking out where it covered the shield, and were met by the head of security. The man escorted them to the principal's office, and returned to his duties.

The principal, a graying Asian woman in her mid-fifties, offered a smile and her hand. "Thank you for coming, Captain Rogers. And you, Ms. Romanoff. My name is Ellen Tanaka, and I've wanted to meet you since the invasion. My son and granddaughter were visiting New York at the time of the invasion, and were saved by you and your team."

"Glad to hear they're okay, ma'am."

"Please, call me Ellen. Having you here is a real treat for the kids. After the invasion, the Avengers were all they talked about."

Natasha's most charming smile showed itself, though Steve knew she was as embarrassed by the praise as he was. "Happy to help out our Gracie, Ellen. Her great-grandfather wanted to come, but he had meetings at work."

Ellen shook her head. "You're _really_ married to the General Barnes we all read about in history class? One of the Howling Commandoes?"

"I am," Natasha told her with pride. "Steve is married to James' granddaughter."

The principal led them out of the offices, and down the hall. "Amazing. I, uh, hope you don't mind, but we've called the entire school together to meet the two of you, instead of Gracie's class by itself."

Walking beside her, Steve smiled through the minor annoyance at not being asked beforehand. "Not a problem, Ellen. One thing, though. Later, could we take the kids outside for a demonstration with the shield?"

"Of course! The kids will be so excited." She opened a side door, and the group found themselves in a backstage area. "Wait here and I'll introduce you."

When Ellen had gone, Natasha's smile vanished, and her arms crossed, her annoyed posture. Steve didn't blame her. He felt the same.

"… _And now, let me introduce Captain America, and the Black Widow!_ "

Thunderous applause, and childish screaming made Steve wince. He loved kids, and was really happy to do this for Gracie and Nicole. He just had to grin, and bear it the same way Natasha did.

Steve put his mask on, took off the coat, and tucked his thumbs in his belt. He preferred the blue and white "stealth suit", but knew the kids would expect him to be in red, white and blue.

Natasha turned her back, and he helped her off with her coat, tossing them over the back of a convenient chair. "Let's do this, Widow."

"On your six, Cap."

They stepped out onto the stage as Ellen backed away from the microphone, taking a seat with the staff at stage right while the applause grew to a crescendo. Steve raised his arms, and the room got quiet. "Hi, kids. I'm Captain America."

" _Hi, Captain America!_ "

Natasha stepped up to the mic, tilting it down so she could reach. "And I'm the Black Widow."

" _Hi, Black Widow!_ "

"We're sorry the rest of the Avengers couldn't be here today, but they're all off fighting bad guys." The kids went wild again, and the pair waited them out. "Speaking of bad guys…" her smile vanished, and her gloved fists jammed into her hips as her eyes coldly scanned the audience, "…how many of you are bullies?"

 **TBC**

 _Frozen_ is a Disney media franchise started by the 2013 American animated feature _Frozen_ , which was directed by Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee from a screenplay by Lee and produced by Peter Del Vecho, with songs by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez. Walt Disney Animation Studios' chief creative officer John Lasseter served as the film's executive producer. The original film was inspired by the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale "The Snow Queen".

 _Let It Go_ is a song from Disney's 2013 animated feature film _Frozen_ , whose music and lyrics were composed by husband-and-wife songwriting team Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez. The song was performed in its original show-tune version in the film by American actress and singer

Idina Menzel in her vocal role as Queen Elsa.

The Russian version is by Anna Buturlina.


	91. Chapter 91

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 91**

The auditorium got deathly quiet then excited whispering sprang up around the room. Before it got too loud, Natasha waved her hands. "Let me ask a different question. How many of you have a mother _and_ a father, whether they live together or not?" Most of the hands went up. "Good. Keep your hands up. Now, how many have just a mother?" Not as many, including some of the adults, but still a high number. There, in the middle section a third of the way in, Gracie gave her a small wave. "How many have only a father, live with their grandparents, aunt, uncle, or have no parents at all?"

By then, most of the hands had gone up, including hers and Steve's. "I bet there's even some who live with two mothers or two fathers." A few more went up. "My parents died in a fire when I was seven, and I was raised in an orphanage." Startled whispers sprang up again, and she let it go until they stopped.

"Look at the people around you. While many of you may have a similar family situation, just as many don't. So, the next time you make fun of someone because they don't have the same kind of family you do, don't look or dress or talk or think or worship the way you do, remember that bullying is mean. There are many reasons why the boy or girl sitting next to you is different. Being bullied just makes it harder. Instead of making fun of other people, talk to them. Get to know them. You might find that you actually have quite a bit in common." She let it sink in as Ellen crossed the stage to hand them a stack of cards.

Steve moved closer, giving her a small nod. "The Black Widow and I will start by telling a few stories, after which, we'll answer questions." He held up the cards. "Then we'll take a break and meet out on the playground by the field so I can show you some tricks with the shield."

Natasha moved in again. "I'll show you some fun ways to stay fit, and teach you a few words of Russian."

Again, the kids erupted in applause. From the corner of her eye, Natasha caught Steve flashing back to when he'd been the headliner of a USO tour whose sole purpose was to sell war bonds, a practice she personally found deplorable. In practice, a government would finance war by putting additional money into circulation. The function of the bonds was to remove money from circulation. So basically, the government paid people more, then encouraged them to buy war bonds as a way to get the money back without raising taxes.

While Steve told a story about his childhood, Natasha took an empty seat in the wings with other family members who'd presented themselves for career day. One teacher, or so she assumed, kept watching her, and every time she turned in his direction, he would smile flirtatiously. She pretended not to notice while taking off her gloves, and holding them in her left hand, resting that wrist on the top knee so that her wedding rings were clearly visible. He left her alone after that. Smirking internally, she assumed an attitude of intense interest in a story she'd heard from two different perspectives: Bucky's and Steve's, silently picking out the discrepancies between them.

~~O~~

After the demonstrations, Steve and Natasha returned to the school to talk with the staff. Their praise was effusive at times, but the pair smiled through it.

Steve made a stop in the boy's room before going backstage to get their coats where he found Natasha standing in front of a full-length mirror staring at her reflection and turning side to side. "Steve, do I look like I've gained weight?"

He pointed a finger at her. "I've been married long enough to know a trick question when I hear it."

She made an impatient sound. "I'm _serious_. The suit fits just as it always has, but I overheard someone saying it looked too tight."

Looking her over with a critical eye, Steve shook his head, and picked up her coat. "Looks the same to me. Does it _feel_ too tight?"

"No more than usual."

He helped her on with her coat, and put his on as they headed for the car. "Don't worry about it then." His phone beeped, and he pulled it out to check messages. "It's from the realtor. She has a couple of houses nearby for me to look at. Wish Joi was here to do this with me."

"I'll go. But let's stop somewhere and change first."

"Should've done that at the school." Steve pulled into a Java hut, handed Natasha her bag, and grabbed his own. Inside, they went into the bathrooms to change, and met in line a few minutes later. "Don't understand how people can pay so much for coffee."

Natasha gave him a side-eye smile. "Don't knock 'till you've tried it, Steve." To the cashier, she said, "Two grande caramel macchiatos, one with double caramel _and_ double chocolate sauce, one with lite of both."

A few minutes later, the barista slid their cups across the counter. Steve sniffed his with suspicion before taking a drink. In all the years since coming out of the ice, he'd never tried one before. He liked it even though he didn't think he would.

Back in the car, he set the phone where he could see it and turned on the GPS for directions to the first address sent by the realtor. Twenty minutes later, Steve and Natasha were huffing as the got in the car. The home didn't fit in with his and Joi's "vision" as she called it. He apologized to the realtor, and they followed her to the next one. Another dud.

The third one had promise. Instead of houses that superficially resembled each other, here, each home was different. The one the realtor stopped in front of was all brick, had a three-car garage, and a big front yard, but it only had three bedrooms. They needed at least four. One for themselves, two for their children when they adopted them, and one that would serve as a home office and craft room, or another bedroom if they decided they wanted more. Part of the garage could be made into a recreation/workout room.

"Hi." Steve looked down at the owner of the sweet little girl voice, and couldn't help smiling back. "My name's Alice. What's yours?"

"Steve. And this is my friend, Natasha. We're looking at houses."

The girl couldn't have been more than ten or eleven. She had a small chin, slanted eyes, a somewhat flat nasal bridge, and a wide, flat face. "You don't want that one."

Giving her statement the attention it deserved, he asked, "Why? What's wrong with it?"

The dark blond girl looked around, and motioned him down so she could whisper. He crouched, bringing them face to face where he could now see her hazel eyes through the lenses of her glasses. "It's not haunted."

Shocked, Steve whispered back, "It's _not_?" He shook his head sadly. "My wife and I specifically told the realtor we wanted a haunted house."

The girl pushed the pink wire-framed glasses up her nose, and glanced over her shoulder. " _That's_ the one you want. It has _lots_ of ghosts, but the nice kind."

He winked and smiled. "Thanks for the advice, Alice." Looking up and down the street, he didn't see another adult.

Natasha asked, "Where's your mom, Alice?"

"Don't have a real mom. Just a foster mom, and she's at home making lunch. I won't be with her much longer. She's kinda old, and it's hard for her to take care of me."

When the realtor came back from making a call, the girl's smile vanished, and so did she.

"I am _so_ sorry, Mr. Rogers. The key was supposed to be in the lockbox, but my associate accidentally took it to the office with her." She pocketed her phone, and took out her keys. "I have another you might be interested in. It's not far."

Steve stopped her, pointing at the one Alice suggested. "What about that one?"

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Pietro brought his computer down to the living room, and hooked it up to the television to do his school work. He was slumped on the sofa, tapping away on the keyboard while his sister was off doing something she hadn't told him about.

He witnessed Wanda's interaction with Natasha before she left. This wasn't the first time, and he wondered why she was suddenly so demonstrative. He gave her mind a gentle nudge, hoping she would let him in on the secret, but got nothing back. It was like he'd touched a brick wall. The only way to get her to "talk" to him, apparently, was to talk to her.

Setting his computer beside him, Pietro ran upstairs to see what their father was doing, and found him in his room getting dressed while singing along with the radio. He shut the door, and returned to the first floor, sending another ping to Wanda. She was outside in the back yard in the gazebo. In under a second, he was sitting beside her. "What are you doing?"

Wanda held up the pad to show that she'd been sketching something. He just couldn't tell what.

"If you must know, it's my art project."

He snatched the pad, turning it this way and that. "What are you going for? Surrealism? Because that looks like a melted clock. Or is it a rock?"

His sister reclaimed the pad with an annoyed, "Hmph. Those are _clouds_ , _eblan_."

"Aren't clouds supposed to be fluffy and round, not," Pietro tilted his head first one way then another, "whatever this is?"

He was interrupted by a loud sigh and Wanda reclaimed her pad. "Is there something you wanted?"

Resting his arms on the back of the seat and crossing one leg over the other, he used the foot on the floor to move the swing. "You're up to no good with Natasha and James, and I want to know what it is."

She picked up her charcoal pencil, and went back to drawing. "Why would you think that?"

"The hugging, rubbing her feet, and creeping through the house in the dark makes me think that. Especially the hugging."

"Well, you're _wrong_. I 'creep' through the house at night so I don't wake anyone when I go downstairs for a drink or a snack. I've only rubbed her feet once. And hugging is a gesture of affection. I'm attempting to get used to the physical contact."

Pietro went from sitting next to Wanda to leaning on the post in under a second. "I know you better than anyone. There's something up your shirt, and it needs to stop."

Holding the pad in front of her face, Wanda laughed, making the swing jiggle. "Sleeve, _eblan_. Up your _sleeve_. And the only thing up mine," she pushed her sweater to the elbow, and pulled it down again, "is my arm."

Pushing off the post, Pietro jumped the three steps to the ground, walking backward toward the house. "Whatever it is has to stop before they discover our true purpose for coming to the United States."

"That is something we must talk about after James has gone to the museum, brother."

~~O~~

Pietro was gone in a flash, leaving Bucky shaking his head. As he got dressed he thought about something that happened while they were visiting Clint and his family, proving that their son was much smarter than Bucky had given him credit for.

 **The Barton Farm  
A Few Days Ago**

The promise of another storm didn't pan out, to everyone's relief, especially Pietro's. After the insurance adjuster left, everyone except for Laura and Lila got to work knocking down what was left of the barn.

Clint's neighbor had graciously made room for the animals. After lunch and showers, Laura and Natasha took Wanda, Cooper and Lila for a visit leaving Clint, Bucky, and Pietro knocking down walls, and tossing the rubble in a dump truck.

Unable to keep up with the other two, Clint called a halt for a snack and cold drinks. Pietro played catch with himself, while Bucky and Clint sat on the steps, lounging in the shade of the porch, fascinated by the boy's speed and agility.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Pietro threw the ball at Clint, and caught it within inches of hitting his face. Not the nervous type, Clint looked from the ball to Pietro without flinching, and plucked the ball from the boy's hand. "Exactly how fast _can_ you run, kid?"

Pietro shrugged. "I do not know. A few days ago, I traveled to Brooklyn from our home in under thirty minutes." He looked down at the piece of grass he was tearing into pieces. "There are times I've felt that, under the right circumstances, I could go even faster."

Clint sat up, bouncing the ball from one hand to the other on the step between his feet. Then, he abruptly stood, and went inside. He was back in moments with his bow. "Let's do an experiment." He prepared the bow, and nocked an arrow. "I'll shoot, and let's see if you can beat the arrow to the target."

Grinning, Pietro came to stand next to Clint. "To make this interesting…" he faced away from the target. "On three…"

Clint released the string, and before he could lower his arm, Pietro was beside him again, holding the arrow. "You didn't see that coming?"

Bucky came up behind them, awed. "Wow!"

The boy explained. "I have done research. According to the Internet, compound bows can fire arrows three hundred-fifty feet per second maximum, all depending on many variables being perfect, such as the draw weight of the bow," he pointed the arrow at Clint, "your draw length, limb material, energy profile of the bow, bowstring material, the weight of the arrow, and so forth. So, a realistic speed of your arrow would be somewhere between two hundred and three hundred feet per second. One mile per hour is approximately equal to 1.46666667 feet per second, making three hundred feet per second," he waggled a hand, "just over two hundred miles per hour."

Bucky crossed his arms, thinking. "DC to Brooklyn is in the neighborhood of two hundred miles. You made it in less than thirty minutes, which gives us a speed of around…"

"Five hundred miles per hour. Give or take." Both men looked at Pietro, who shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I'm good with math."

Straightening his shoulders, Clint slipped the quiver over his head, settling it on his back in its accustomed place. He pulled an arrow out, and nocked it, holding the bow with the tip pointed at the ground.

Looking smug, Pietro asked, "What now? Another experiment?"

"A challenge." Clint readied himself, taking a deep breath while he plotted his strategy.

The boy cracked his neck on each side, and grinned. "Bring it on, old man."

Stepping between them, Bucky waved a hand. "I don't think is a good idea. Someone could get hurt."

Clint had to give it to the boy. He really did care about Bucky. Pietro gripped his father's hand. "Do not worry, James. He won't even see me coming."

~~O~~

To show off, Pietro caught the first couple of arrows within feet of being shot. Then Clint got creative, and still, Pietro was able to retrieve the arrows. Not much of a challenge, really.

He strutted back to Clint and James, passing over the arrows he'd collected. "Let's try something else. I'll stand there," he pointed to a spot twenty feet away, "you aim for my heart or my head, whichever you prefer, and we'll see what happens."

James put a hand on Pietro's arm, a frown of worry turning down the corners of his mouth. "No, Pietro."

Knowing in advance what would happen, Pietro smiled reassuringly. "Do not worry, _pápochka_. I will be fine. I promise." He turned away, not giving James time to make a reply as he went to stand in the designated spot. "Whenever you're ready, Clint."

The archer breathed deeply a few times, then Clint brought the bow into position, and sent an arrow flying without warning.

The arrow wobbled a bit at the beginning as it always did, straightening out within moments. When it got close, Pietro casually turned to the side, bringing his right hand up to grab the shaft before it could travel out of reach.

Clint had his left arm in position, his fingers slightly curled, and that blank expression on his face that indicated intense concentration. James, on the other hand, showed fear, and then relief when he saw that Pietro hadn't been hurt.

He walked back to the starting point, passed the arrow to Clint, and smiled gently at his father. "See? I told you I would be fine." James didn't respond. He merely stared at his son without blinking. Pietro touched him on the shoulder. "James?"

The man's eyes skimmed over him, looking for wounds. Finding none, he gathered Pietro into a hug. "Don't _ever_ do that again. Especially in front of your mother."

Confused by James' response to a simple trick he'd done many times during testing at von Strucker's behest, Pietro hadn't thought anything of doing it yet again. But the situation had obviously disturbed James. "I won't, _pápochka_." He winked at Clint, and slapped James on the shoulder. "Try to keep up, old man."

"Don't piss me off, kid!" Bucky yelled at the empty spot Pietro had been standing in less than a second before. "Your mother is running out of places to hide the bodies!"

 **Present**

Still in shock at the speed with which Pietro had made the trip to Brooklyn and back, never mind that he'd done it without telling his parents where he was going, and catching the arrows in mid-air, Bucky could only shake his head, the action making him dizzy. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his forehead until it stopped. The sensation only lasted a few seconds, and was unlike the bouts of dizziness he experienced prior to his release from HYDRA's hold. Dismissing the feeling, he finished putting on his shoes, grabbed his jacket, and went downstairs.

He looked around, but all he saw was Pietro's laptop gone into power-saver mode sitting on the sofa. He walked through to the back window, and found the twins in the gazebo talking. Wanda was holding a pad, and laughing at her brother.

Bucky flipped the collar and his hair out, picked up his keys and wallet, and left for work.

 **Iris' Home**

 **A Few Days Later**

The more walking Iris did, the stronger she became until she was able to walk the length of her home with only the support of a cane. Jamie helped by adding weights and repetitions to her legs lifts during PT.

Chase had surprised her with not one, not two, but three canes, all different. The first one, ebony and filigreed silver, gave her a bit of swagger when she needed to demand respect.

The second one she found on her bed one of the few nights that Chase hadn't spent the night. The only way he could've gotten it into the house when she wasn't home was to have Andre's help. Like the first one, it was black. The handle was white pearlescent with a silver and rhinestone collar, and folded in fourths.

Then there was the last one. Iris found it on the hood of her car after work, a bunch of balloons tied to the handle. Looking closer at the design, she saw that they were purple irises. It also folded so it could be stashed out of the way. That's the one she took with her to the kitchen.

On several occasions, Andre had caught her pushing the envelope by climbing on a step stool, or going up on tiptoe. She'd fallen more than once, and been found by her brother anywhere between ten minutes and a couple of hours after the fact. When the latter happened, she'd dragged herself from the hall into the living room in case someone came to the door. That way, she could get help.

This morning, Iris wanted to surprise Chase by making breakfast. Nothing elaborate. Mushroom, onion, tomato and cheese omelets with toast, and coffee. So, while he was in the shower, she hobbled into the kitchen, and got to work. Her downfall, literally, came when she bent over to get the skillet from under the counter. She overbalanced, and landed on the thick mat in the middle of the floor. She wasn't hurt, but she also couldn't get up by herself.

The shower shut off, and she gave Chase time to at least get his boxers on before calling out, "Chase!"

" _Yeah?_ "

Embarrassed, she tried once more to stand, falling back when her strength proved unequal to the task. "Come here! I need you!"

He was at her side in an instant, picking her up, and carrying her to the sofa. "What happened? Are you okay?"

As good as it felt having him run his hands over her entire body looking for broken bones, Iris had to come clean. "I was making breakfast, and slipped. Not quite up to getting myself off the floor yet."

"You should let _me_ take care of the cooking."

Irate, Iris slammed him in the chest. "Stop babying me! You, Andre, everyone at the club, you all treat me like I can't do anything physical for myself." She grabbed the wheelchair, forcing Chase to move out of the way. " _I_ am making breakfast. You can eat it or not. Up to you."

But Chase had stopped listening, and was looking off into the distance. In a distracted tone, he waved at her. "You do that, honey. I gotta get dressed, and…"

His voice trailed off when the bedroom door closed. Puzzled by his behavior-he was usually quite attentive when she had a mishap-Iris went back to cooking. To make it easier on herself, she precooked the vegetables in the microwave with a little butter, and whisked the eggs while they cooled.

By the time Chase came back, she'd set the table, and had the food ready. Still not quite with it, Chase absentmindedly carried the plates and cups of coffee to the table, then came back for her. He wheeled her to the table, sat down, and took a sip of coffee as if he'd been preforming the same routine with her for years.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He looked up at her with a mouthful of omelet, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Hmm?" A sheepish smile came over his features, and he reached for her hand, swallowing before speaking. "Sorry. Just thinking. This is great, by the way."

"Um, thanks." Iris watched him shovel the food into his mouth as if he were starving, or couldn't wait to be away from her.

The last bite of food went into his mouth. Chase wiped his face, still chewing, stood, and came around to kiss her on the lips. "Mind driving yourself to work today? I gotta go see my Aunt Wanda and Uncle Pietro."

He didn't wait for her answer. Just picked up his keys and wallet, handed her one of the canes, kissed her one more time, and was gone, slamming the door behind him. Iris blinked at the closed door, and sighed. "No, Chase. Don't worry about the dishes. I can do them myself."

She rolled into the kitchen with the dishes stacked in her lap, set them in the sink, locked the wheels, and stood to plug the sink and fill it with hot soapy water, deciding to leave the actual washing for when she got home.

In the bedroom, she put on burgundy leggings with socks, a long-sleeved silver-grey dress that came to the middle of her thighs, make-up, jewelry, and a pair of boots specifically designed to give her ankles the extra support they needed to help her stand and walk.

Iris shrugged into her jacket, pulled a matching hat down over her ears, hooked her purse over her head so it hung crosswise, and headed out, still thinking about Chase's odd behavior.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

It occurred to Chase that he should call to let Gramps and Natasha know he was coming, but decided against it. At this time of day, Gramps would already be at the museum, and if Natasha were home, he'd make up an excuse for being there to see his aunt and uncle that she'd likely not believe. But dammit! He _had_ to see the twins today, sans parents.

His stomach dropped at seeing Natasha's car in the driveway. He parked next it, concocting several unbelievable scenarios on the way to the door.

Chase knocked, and the door opened so fast, Pietro had to have been watching from the window. "Hi. Your mom home?"

Pietro let Chase in, leading him to the living room where he was still studying. "She had to go out of town, and will be gone longer than expected. Would you like something to drink?"

"Nothing, thanks. I, uh, I need to speak to Wanda."

"She's working on an art project in the den."

The boy's eyes became unfocused for a moment. The den opened, and Wanda was standing in the doorway, giving Chase the impression that she too had known he was coming. In her eyes, he saw resignation, and a small amount of self-consciousness with a hearty dose of I-don't-give-a-****. She raised her chin, and stepped back, inviting him in.

The door closed behind him, and he turned to face Wanda's wide-eyed, yet obstinate expression. "I know why you're here."

Surprised, Chase dropped into a chair so he wasn't towering over her. "You do?"

"Mia told you what happened at the party."

He leaned back, confused by what appeared to be a partial change of subject. "Haven't spoken to her. Why? What happened?"

Wanda didn't answer the question directly. "Then why _are_ you here?"

"I remembered something from that night. You and I were watching Justin sing, and you said, 'Iris needs you'."

Perching on the corner of the desk, Wanda crossed her arms. "What of it?"

Leaning back, he rested an ankle on the opposite knee. "When you said that, you weren't close enough to hear her call, and both of us were facing the stage. Neither of us could've seen her wave to get our attention." Faster than she apparently expected, Chase was standing over her. But she was too close to the desk to retreat from his glare. " _How_ did you know Iris needed help?"

 **TBC**


	92. Chapter 92

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 92**

"…and _don't lie_." The look of fear in Wanda's eyes was replaced by acceptance. Chase wouldn't hurt her, and she knew it. Just the same, he returned to his seat.

Arms crossed over her chest, she paced back and forth, using it as a delay tactic to make him think she was agonizing over a decision she'd already made. Near the door, she faced him again. "Come with me."

Chase followed her into the living room where Pietro had gone back to his school work. He took one look at his sister and groaned. "Him too? Why don't we just tell the world?"

Taking a seat on the arm of the sofa, Chase looked from one to the other in confusion. "Tell the world what?"

The twins shared a look. Pietro huffed, closed his laptop, and stood. Holding one end, he brought his right arm across his body, and threw the device in the air. Chase jumped up to catch it, only to see it hovering in the air surrounded by a swirling red mist. As he watched, the laptop spun like a gyroscope, stopped, turned right side up, opened, and floated over to land on the table in front of Pietro.

Following the vanishing trail of red mist led him back to Wanda as she lowered her hands. She leveled a gaze at him. "I can move things with my mind, sense what people are feeling or when they are nearby, though it takes concentration." She cupped her hand, creating a ball of the swirling red mist. "A few other things as well."

Stunned, Chase turned to Pietro. "What can _you_ do?"

The boy vanished from the sofa, and appeared next to his sister, grinning. "I'm fast." He was gone, and back, the breeze of his passing fluttering the pages of the magazine on the end table.

Taking the beer Pietro brought him, Chase downed the entire bottle at once. Not that it would do any good. "Wow."

The twins looked quite pleased with themselves, Wanda answering for both of them. "That's what James and Natasha said."

"They know?"

Pietro made a derisive sound. "Psht. Of course they do. They're our parents."

"I can understand why they wouldn't tell anyone." Then he remembered something else. "Wanda, you said something about Mia."

Looking a bit embarrassed, Wanda moved to the armchair and folded her hands in her lap. "She knows as well. About me, but not what Pietro can do. Just that he has an ability."

"I don't know what to say. The most _I_ can do is choose not to feel physical pain." The clock over the mantel dinged. "Gotta go to work. We, uh, should probably not tell your parents I know."

Chase escaped before he found out something else that shook the foundations of his world. Today was his day to handle the IT business, and he needed to be sharp. It also meant he might not see Iris until dinner, if she wanted to see him at all. After the morning they had, he should make it up to her. Good thing he had all day to think about it.

 **Justin's Apartment**

Instead of keeping Dexter bundled up all the time, Justin made a sort of play area on the living room floor with a fuzzy blanket so he could practice crawling. He moved around, sniffing the air and crying for his mother, and it made Justin sad that she wasn't here for him. He rubbed Dexter's back and under his chin, and his head wobbled as he turned toward the warmth. "Sorry your mom's not here, Dex. All you got is me, and I'll do the best I can for you."

When Justin took the kitten from his box this morning, he saw that his eyes had opened. They were dark blue-grey, wide, watching with an innocence that touched his heart.

During the night, he woke up to find Dexter nuzzling along the side of the bear, looking for food. He quickly grabbed one of the prefilled syringes, and held it where the mother's nipple would be.

At the age of eight days, it seemed like every day the tiny baby was eating more, growing bigger, and steadily gaining weight. Thriving is what Olivia called it. He'd even gotten his first bath the yesterday, expressing his displeasure with loud meows of outrage. But once he was dry, it was over. All wrapped up like a purrito, Dexter had gone to sleep tucked inside Justin's shirt while he made breakfast.

Justin couldn't stay off work for weeks, and Dexter couldn't come to the construction site with him, so he'd gotten a babysitter: Olivia, the Kitten Queen. She and her husband had offered to take care of Dexter while "Daddy" worked.

Caring for an orphaned kitten also gave Justin a new calling. He began reading and watching everything he could get his hands on about rescuing cats and kittens, as well as how to TNR feral cats. TNR stood for trap-neuter-return, a program for preventing overpopulation of feral cat colonies.

A single female cat has one to eight kittens per litter, and two to three litters per year. During her productive life, she could have more than one hundred kittens. A single pair of cats and their kittens can produce as many as 420,000 kittens in just seven years.

There were not enough homes for them all, and so many were abandoned or euthanized. Just the thought of euthanasia made Justin sick to his stomach. In the case of horrendous injuries where the choice was let the animal die a long, painful death, or a short painless one, he'd picked the latter. But using it as a method of population control was abhorrent. He vowed that he wouldn't let that happen, and set out to learn all he could, not only from the Internet, but from Olivia and her husband as well. She loved teaching, and he was eager to learn.

Justin filled the syringe again, and fed Dexter a second helping. "We'll switch to a bottle tomorrow. You know, you're gonna be a big boy, Dex. Doc says you're a Maine Coon cat. One of the largest cat breeds in the world." He chuckled. "Probably should've given you a manlier name then, huh?"

Dexter pushed the syringe away with his tongue, letting him know he was done. Justin performed the after-meal ablutions, and sat on the sofa to watch a movie while Dexter took his nap. Once he was asleep, Justin moved him to the box, gathered the laundry, soap, fabric softener, and hangers, and carried it all down to the car. The complex had a Laundromat, but it was always either full, or the machines were broken, so he went down to the Washateria down the street. He spent that time reading, or playing the retro video games.

The moment he entered the room, he saw someone playing the video game he always played, and it irked him. In all the weeks he'd been coming here, no one else had ever touched it. He put the clothes in the washers, started them up, and wandered over to the games, hoping the guy would take the hint, and leave. He dropped into a chair, crossed his arms, and stared off into the distance, listening for the washers to stop, and doing his best not to think about anything in particular.

"Wanna play?"

Justin looked up. The stranger was looking at him and smiling in a way that said he liked what he saw. "Sure." He stood, and held out his hand. "Justin."

"Marshall."

The other man was approximately the same age, shoulders not as broad, and shorter in height than he by a few inches. His short hair was a lighter shade of brown that wasn't natural as Justin could see the darker roots growing in. The eyes were blue and his face rounder than Justin liked in a man, and the way Marshall moved indicated that he worked out regularly. He looked good, and knew it.

When he smiled, his teeth had that tell-tale look of veneers. There was a dimple on one cheek, but not the other. The one thing that was not exactly a turn-off or a deal-breaker, but not high on his list of attributes in a possible romantic interest, was the fact that Marshall had his eyebrows waxed, and recently. He caught a whiff of the same waxy scent that he smelled on women when they came out of the spa.

Justin flexed his fingers and cracked his neck. "So, Marshall, ready to get your ass handed to you?"

From the gleam in his eyes, Marshall had taken his challenge as a double meaning. "Only if you are too, Justin."

Ignoring the obvious come-on, Justin dropped quarters in the machine, and selected two players. "To show you what a good sport I am, you can go first."

He stood back to let Marshall at the machine, watching over his shoulder.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Medical Unit**

Deep inside the brain of the patient, something was happening. Damaged neurons slowly began repairing themselves. The reconstruction wasn't exponential, but continuous. The same transmutation was happening all over the body as damaged organs became fully functional once more.

The medical agent on duty had his feet up on the desk while he read a medical journal on his phone. And because of his inattention, he missed the slight wavering of the EEG, and the infinitesimal increase in the heart rate.

Both hands were folded on top of the light green blanket covering the body, right hand over the left. In the light of simulated night, the right index finger moved. Not much, but enough to be noticed, if someone was watching. Unfortunately, the man in charge during the night was otherwise occupied. No one would know what happened unless they watched the video, or someone was present during the next occurrence, if it continued.

 **Washateria**

Tired of the game, Justin and Marshall talked and laughed together while folding and hanging their clothes. Had he been alone, Justin would've been home by now. However, he found that he and his new friend had more in common that he thought at the beginning.

They walked out to the parking lot together. Justin's phone beeped, reminding him of his obligation at home. "Thanks for the games and the company, Marshall, but I've got to get home."

"Your SO calling?"

Justin pointed at himself. "Newly single." He took out his keys.

"Ditto." He slammed the back door of his average four-door sedan, seemingly reluctant to leave. "Would you like to have dinner tonight? There's a new sports bar over on Lakeview that I've been wanting to try, but don't like going alone."

One side of Justin's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Know how that is." He looked at his watch. "I have a couple things to do, so meet at nine?"

"Nine it is."

They shook hands again, and Justin felt Marshall hang on just a little longer than necessary. In the past, he might've done the same thing when he found a man attractive. Make no mistake, he appreciated Marshall's looks, but he was more interested in a person's personality than the façade they presented to the world. Okay, so that wasn't completely true. He'd been drawn to Sean and Rey for the same reason: he thought they were hot. It wasn't until they'd been living together for six months that Sean's personality began to change, and he never found out why.

Justin's instincts told him immediately upon first meeting if he could trust someone, or he wouldn't have gotten involved with his ex in the first place. Rey had been different. Yes, he noticed her physical attributes first. And by the time they parted in the parking lot that day, he knew she would always be trustworthy. He wanted them to be together, but she had to want it too.

So, here he was, moving on, temporarily. Rey said he had to love himself again before they could move forward with their relationship. He didn't see any reason why he couldn't have congenial company in the meantime.

At home, he dropped the laundry on the sofa upon hearing Dexter crying in the bedroom. He almost laughed when he saw that his small charge had managed to trap himself under the bear, and couldn't move. Once he was released, the screeching stopped, and the kitten looked up at him. Dexter was so small, that Justin had to look like a giant. He picked the baby up and cuddled him close, rubbing a finger over his head and under his chin. "You're okay, _malyutka_. Let's get you fed so Daddy can go out to dinner with his new friend."

Within minutes, Dexter had finished eating, and was ready to go to sleep again. Justin put him in the box, and went to shower for his date. Unlike his first date with Sean or Rey, he didn't agonize over what to wear. He pulled on a white t-shirt, tucked it into his faded black jeans, and buckled the belt. Over the t-shirt, he wore a grey long-sleeved sweater. The only accessory was his watch, a gift from Chase on their twenty-fifth birthday.

 **Iris' Home**

 **Early Evening**

Sitting on the side of her bed, Iris reread the card that had been delivered to the office with a "bouquet" of dog treats and Godiva chocolates.

 _Please come to dinner tonight at my place_

 _Chase_

She tried calling him several times, and sent a text, but got no response. Nowhere on the card did it say what to wear, so she went with a modified version of today's work outfit: a dark purple off the shoulder sweater dress belted at the waist, black tights, and black boots with a short heel.

Standing in front of the mirror, she straightened the hem where it stopped just below mid-thigh, adjusted the belt then took it off. She left her hair down, parted on the left, with gentle waves, and added her watch and diamond earrings. They were all she had left that Oscar had given her during their marriage. Everything else had been sold to pay off medical bills and the mortgage on the house. If Andre hadn't moved in with her, she'd have lost it to foreclosure before the settlement from the insurance company.

Dakota sat watching her with his tongue lolling out. Iris knew he wanted to go with her, but not tonight. Not without asking Chase if it was okay to bring him, and she couldn't ask if he wouldn't answer the _phone_.

Using the cane with the purple irises, she walked to the front of the house for her wheelchair, put on her jacket, hat, and scarf, and picked up her purse. She folded the cane, and laid it next to her in the wheelchair, and let herself out.

The drive didn't take long this time of night thanks to her foresight in staying off the highway. As she pulled up in front of Chase's condo, Iris softened even more toward him. He'd moved his SUV to the other side of the driveway so she could be close to the door.

Feeling as if she could climb mountains, Iris got out, unfolded the cane, and walked to the front door. The steps weren't easy, but she made it without falling. She rang the bell, and put on a smile when the door opened.

Chase smiled when he saw her, stepping onto the porch to give her a kiss. "Thanks for coming."

He gave her hand up the last step, and let go, showing her that he felt she could do it all on her own. While she appreciated his kindness, she missed the warmth of his hand. "Thanks for inviting me."

"We spend most of our time after work at your place." He helped her off with her jacket, hat, and scarf, laying them over the back of a chair with her purse, adding the cane, and offering her his arm as support. "It's only fair that I take on the role of host for a change."

Iris was amazed at the transformation of his living room. The lights had been turned down, and the furniture moved to make room for the small dining room table, set with a table cloth, nice dishes, wine glasses, silverware, napkins, and candles. He held her chair

"Whatever you're making smells wonderful."

He took the opportunity to kiss her on the neck before leaving her. "Mmm. So do you." Through the window over the bar counter, she could see him moving around. "Thank _Chef_ for the food. I can cook well enough to keep myself from starving to death. However, I wanted better for my guest. The last time you were here was for work. This is for us."

He came back with two covered plates, and returned to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. He filled their glasses, set it in the wine bucket, and sat down across from her. "I'd make a toast, but all the ones I know are clichéd, trite, or inappropriate."

Iris lifted her glass, and Chase did as well. "Over the lips and past the gums. Look out stomach, here it comes."

"That works." He set his glass down, and removed the cover from their food. Chef hadn't taken him at his word when asked to prepare something simple. The appetizer was shrimp bisque bourbon. For the entrée, braised meatballs, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach piled together on the plate so that it looked like an edible bird's nest.

They talked while they ate, mostly about nothing that Chase could put his finger on at the end of the meal. Conversation came so easily with Iris that he was tempted to tell her things he'd never said to anyone else, except Justin.

While Iris went down the hall to the bathroom, he took their plates to the kitchen and put them in the sink. From the refrigerator, he took out the dessert that Chef insisted they had to have: _brigadeiro_ , a Brazilian treat made with cocoa, butter, and sweetened condensed milk, each with a different topping. He turned on the coffee maker, and started a pot of water for hot cocoa. By then, Iris was back.

Chase escorted her to the sofa, sat beside her, and held her hand. "Iris," he faltered, took a deep breath, and pushed on, "I want this thing, whatever it is, to work out between us. Not just for a few months, but for the long-term."

Her warm smile, and the way her fingers tightened on his nearly melted his resolve.

"Me too."

"Good. Now, I know it's a little early in our relationship for some of the steps, like expensive jewelry, trips to the Caymans, shared custody of Dakota."

She gripped his hand. "Wait a minute. Don't dismiss the trip idea so quickly. It could be fun."

He chuckled, almost embarrassed. "It's something I'm planning for the future, maybe in the spring." With his free hand, he reached between the sofa and the end table, and brought out an elegant box tied with a white ribbon. "For now, I got you this. It's something you can use and leave here, if you want, or take it home. Up to you."

Iris released his hand to take the box on her lap. "If it's a gag gift, Chase, you're fired as my almost boyfriend."

"I wouldn't. Hopefully, this will cement my status as your significant other. Open it."

Her slender fingers untied the bow and set it aside. She lifted the lid, and peeled back the white tissue paper. Just for a moment, her expression froze in place, as if she were upset by the gift he spent more than an hour choosing from one of the premier ladies' lingerie shops in DC.

Finally, she picked up the willowy material by the shoulders, showing the garment to be a satin pajama set, top, pants, shorts, and camisole, with a matching robe, in a dark midnight blue that he found seductive, and charming at the same time. Sexy, but not overtly so.

She sat there staring at it so long, Chase felt he'd made a mistake. "You don't like it. I'm sorry. I'll take it back tomorrow."

Iris grabbed the box and held it out of reach. "Don't you dare! It's beautiful."

Relieved, he turned her to look at him. "I'd like to see you in it."

"That can be arranged." Chase helped her stand, and handed her the cane. She took one step, and looked over her shoulder with a sly grin, one eyebrow lifted cheekily. "And what will _you_ be wearing when I come out?"

Aroused by the fact that he'd get to see Iris wearing something he'd given her to the point that he could barely talk, Chase said the first thing that came to mind. "A smile?" At her mock outraged stare, he backpedaled. "Kidding. I will also be wearing pajamas. We will dim the lights, turn on some romantic music, cuddle on the sofa covered with a fuzzy blanket, and sip hot cocoa while we feed each other dessert."

"Mmm. Sounds like a plan." Iris crooked her finger, and he leaned down to kiss her, no other part of them touching, just their lips.

 **End Zone Sport Bar**

Justin checked on Dexter one more time before leaving. A few minutes later, he entered the noise and confusion of a sports bar. He took a moment to watch Marshall watching the game. His mind was on it, though he didn't seem that interested. Had he picked this place for their date because he thought Justin would like it? As he neared the table, his instincts told him more than could be discerned from a distance. Marshall was involved in the game. Just not to the point of shouting encouragement at the players, or belittling the referees. Maybe after they got to know each other better, he'd relax.

"Hey."

Marshall smiled, and sat up in his chair while Justin took off his jacket and cap, and lay them in the seat of an empty chair. "You made it."

"Am I late?"

"No. It's just that I've been stood up so many times, I've come to expect it."

The server came to take his drink order and moved on to the next table. "Then you're dating the wrong men. FYI - I would've at least called if I couldn't make it."

"Good to know." Marshall took a drink of his beer and returned it to the coaster. "What sort of work do you do?"

Justin waited for the server to leave to answer. "I used to own a night club, but now I work as a contractor with a construction firm." He swung an imaginary sledgehammer. "I specialize in knocking stuff down. Helps get rid of aggression."

His companion laughed, and finally relaxed. "It probably won't come as a surprise that I'm a part time model, and an aspiring actor."

"Ah, that means…"

"I wait tables, and drive for Uber." A different server brought their food, the obligatory Buffalo wings, burgers, fries, and salads to make them feel better about their not-so-healthy choices. Marshall added ketchup to his plate for the fries. "I'll have to spend an extra hour at the gym to work this off."

Though Justin never had a problem with gaining weight or other diet related health problems, he lied like a shag carpet. "Ditto. Construction only does so much for the physique." Justin added chipotle mayo to his bacon burger, and took a huge bite. He wiped his mouth, waiting for his companion to keep the conversation rolling, but he didn't continue. "Where do you work?"

"Was at The Venue for almost two year. Then business went into the toilet after the terrorist attack downtown. At The Brazilian Grill over on High Meadow Court. Like The Venue, we attract our fair share of celebrities."

"Yeah? Like who?"

Marshall put down his burger, and picked up the beer. "Captain America came in once with a girl."

Just taking a drink, Justin almost choked, turning it into a throat-clearing. "What's he like?"

"Polite, attentive without being cloying, didn't know much about wine so the girl ordered." He dabbed at his mouth. "Funny, but now that I think about it, she looked familiar too."

Using a fork to stab at the salad, Justin smiled innocently. "You don't say?"

 **The Lockwood/Rogers Home**

Steve paced around the condo, debating if he should call Joi now or wait until midnight his time. The show was filming in Greece, seven hours ahead of DC, and she'd likely still be asleep. On his next lap, he gave in, impatiently waiting for his wife to answer the phone, smiling at the sound of her sleepy voice.

" _Mmm… yeah?_ "

"Babe?"

The rustle of bedclothes then a thump came though the phone. " _Steve? What's wrong? Why are you calling so early?_ "

He was so excited he could barely keep it in. "I may have found a house. There's a video in your email."

" _Hold on a sec_." Her footsteps padded into the bathroom where she took care of business, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face. " _Let me have a look._ "

"It needs a little work, but it looks like the one."

Presumably, she put the phone on speaker while watching the clip so they could talk. She gasped, a happy one. " _Oh, Steve! It's perfect!_ " He waited for her to see the end of the video. " _Who's the little girl? She's adorable!_ "

Grinning like he'd never stop, Steve leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, picturing how it would look in another few days. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk about. Are you ready to be a mother?"

 **TBC**

The _brigadeiro_ (Portuguese for _Brigadier_ ) is a common Brazilian delicacy, created in 1940. The _brigadeiro_ is made from condensed milk, cocoa powder, butter and chocolate sprinkles to cover the outside layer.

The information regarding when and where the _brigadeiro_ was invented is uncertain. The history of the origin of the name is accompanied by some controversies. One version explains that the dessert was invented in Brazil after World War II (1939–1945). During that time, it was difficult to find fresh milk and sugar to make any kind of desserts. Because of this, it was discovered that if one mixed condensed milk and chocolate, the result would be a delicious sweet treat.


	93. Chapter 93

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 93**

" _How… Wha… Oh, God I need coffee for this. Let me call you back in a bit_." In the background, before she hit end, Steve heard Joi speaking in an excited voice. " _I'm gonna be a mom! O-M-G! Elyse! Elyse, wake up! I'm gonna be a-_ "

Chuckling, Steve hung up, sent Joi the photos he'd taken then dialed Bucky. It was answered on the second ring. " _It's the middle of the damn night, punk. What the hell do you want?_ "

Underneath the mock anger, he could tell he hadn't woken his best friend. "Is Nat there? I want her to hear this too, jerk."

Muffled voices came through as Bucky thumped down the stairs to the first floor, calling for his wife. " _Tasha! Steve's on the phone… Don't know. Wants to talk to both of us!_ " He came back on. " _She's coming. The kids are still up. Is this something they can hear?_ "

"It is." Steve couldn't stand still while he was waiting, and went back to pacing.

Bucky came back on. " _Okay. We're here. What's so important you had to disrupt our nighttime routine?_ "

"Natasha already knows part of it. We put a bid on a house today. Rather, I did."

The twins were verbally celebrating while Natasha explained about their side trip after visiting Gracie's school. Bucky came back on the line. " _That's great, Stevie. So what's the other news?_ "

Telling his best friend would make it more real, somehow. Yet, at the same time, it felt like a fairy tale, a dream come true. "You're gonna be a great grand-father again."

" _Joi's pregnant!? When did this happen?_ "

Steve dropped onto the sofa, and kicked his shoes off, but couldn't tell him Joi's secret. Not yet. "No. No. We're going to adopt. I met a girl named Alice today while looking at houses. After I took Nat home, I went back and spoke to her foster mother. She helped me get the paperwork started. At first, we'll be her foster parents." He put his feet on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. "I took pictures." A few taps on his phone sent the photos he'd taken that afternoon of Alice alone and with him. A beep let him know they'd gotten them. "Her name is Alice Marie Garvey. She likes cats, dogs, ghost stories, Twinkies, chocolate ice cream, spicy food, and bacon. And hates liver, okra, blueberries, coffee, and Jell-o. Her favorite color is pink, she has a stuffed manatee called Bubbles, and wants to learn to tap dance and twirl a baton."

" _Geez, Rogers. How long did you spend with her?_ " Natasha asked, amazed at the amount of information he had about the girl they'd only talked to for a few moments that afternoon.

His sheepish smile came through in his voice. "Four hours. Took them out to dinner. Told them I wanted to know more about the neighborhood for when Joi and I move in." The phone buzzed with an in-coming call. "Gotta go. Joi's calling." He hit answer. "Hi, babe. Better?"

" _Now that I've had coffee, yes. And I got the pics. She's amazing. It's not going to be easy, Steve. She has special needs to consider. Are you sure we can handle it?"_

"Absolutely. I've been cleaning out the second bedroom. Most of the stuff is going into storage for now. Her foster mom said we could have the furniture from her room. Once we're settled in, she can decorate it how she wants. And because the house is in the same neighborhood, she'll be able to go to the same school, and still see all her friends."

Steve heard a door slam, and water come on, assuming Elyse had gone into the bathroom for a shower. Joi moved around the room, pacing. City sounds indicated she was near the windows. " _Why is her foster mother giving her up?_ "

This was the part Steve hated, giving bad news, even if neither of them knew the person. "She's starting chemotherapy next week, so she's selling the house and moving in with her sister. Alice said she was old, but that's just her perception. Ms. Michalski is about fifty. I'll talk to Nat, see if there's anything she can do to expedite our application."

" _Fingers are crossed. We're really going to do this?_ "

"I think we are. Alice will love you, honey. Promise. Here's what Ms. Michalski told me about becoming a foster parent…"

 **End Zone Sport Bar**

"…then, in late 2011, I was all set to play an infamous actor and singer in a movie about his life. Studied old videos of him, practiced his mannerisms, his speech patterns, even learned to sing like him. At the last minute, the part went to someone else. Filming was supposed to start in late spring 2012. Twitter hint campaign, leaked," he made air quotes, "set photos, mysterious red-carpet appearances, the works."

Marshall leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, fingering the cuff of his pants. A nervous habit, it seemed. Justin listened close enough to make the correct responses in the appropriate places while letting part of his attention wander. "But it didn't happen."

His companion snorted. "Turned out to be a good thing. His estate filed an injunction to stop it. Not one frame was ever filmed. They're still appealing." He swallowed the rest of his beer, and set the glass on the table, shaking his head when the server came to take it away. "Hollywood has a long memory."

"Heard that." Justin's phone buzzed, ending the conversation. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get home to feed my cat."

"You have a cat?"

Justin signaled for the server, handing her the check and cash. "Keep the change." To Marshall, he said, "Yes. Well, a kitten. He's an orphan, and needs to be bottle-fed every few hours. Do you have pets?"

A hand waved in the air. "Allergic to dogs, cats, horses, and a bunch of other stuff." He pulled a pen-shaped object from his jacket pocket. "Have to carry an auto-injector with me at all times."

On impulse, Justin blurted out, "Guess we won't be spending the night at my place then."

Marshall's head came up so fast Justin was surprised it didn't crack. Then, he glanced away. "Guess not."

Together, the men stood, put on their jackets, and left the restaurant. They could still hear the music when the door closed, but thankfully, it was muffled enough Justin could tolerate it.

As if they'd planned it, Justin walked beside Marshall until they stopped at his car. "Thanks for coming tonight. I had a good time."

"So did I." _Liar_. There was an awkward moment of silence then Justin gave Marshall a quick hug. "Let's do it again. Next week, maybe."

Hands shoved in his pockets, Marshall nodded and smiled almost shyly. "I'd like that. Call me."

Watching him drive away, Justin thought back to before HYDRA, wondering, not for the first time, what it was about Rey that kept him coming back. Love was one thing, but that didn't explain why he couldn't stay away from her. It wasn't about the sex. That came later. All he knew was being without her, he felt like a drug addict needing a fix. The longer they were apart, the more he wanted to be with her, and it didn't matter what they were doing. Talking, laughing, fighting, or saying nothing at all. Sitting side by side, or at opposite ends of her condo, yet knowing that her comforting presence was nearby, if he should need it.

He didn't get the same sense being with Marshall. After Sean left, Justin didn't want anything long-term. One or two nights every few weeks worked out just fine. He got a little stress relief when work was hectic, and afterward, went home to his empty condo, and his goldfish Frankenstein.

Every now and then, when he missed seeing and feeling breasts, he would find a willing woman, though never the same one twice… until Rey. And here he was thinking about _her_ instead of the man he'd spent the evening with.

He found Marshall mildly attractive, somewhat interesting, and under different circumstances, he might've pressed forward with spending the night between the sheets. But that was years ago.

Before HYDRA. Before he'd been made into a killing machine. Before Sean. Before Rey.

More confused now than at any other time in his life, Justin got in his car and went home to Dexter.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Late Night**

The dream started out as it always did, training to kill, but not killing.

 _A man had his arm around her throat as she tapped out. He released her, and they started again. This time, the man landed on his back with a knife less than an inch from his throat while the matron watched dispassionately from the sidelines. At one time, the girls had trained in small groups. Then, as they became more adept, one on one._

 _Some of the girls were never seen again, and if anyone were impertinent enough to question the matron on this, or any other aspect of their training, the punishment would be swift and severe, often cruel._

 _Natasha only made the mistake of going against the matron's commands once. Within moments, she'd been imprisoned in a sensory deprivation room. No light, no sound, nothing that would give the occupant a sense of the passage of time or physical orientation. She once heard a rumor that another girl had gone mad, toppling into a void that felt as if she were stuck in the space between seconds where there was no time, no people, just… nothing._

 _Then, just as suddenly, she was on stage, dancing, spinning, leaping, while music played. And at the end, the audience applauded, and a bouquet of roses the color of blood were placed in her arms._

 _Above the sound of her adoring fans, Natasha heard dripping. Slow at first, just one every few seconds, speeding up until one seemed to come on top of another. She looked down, and a gasp caught in her throat. The roses had turned to knives, and were covered in blood. They fell to the floor in a clatter, leaving blood on her hands, down the front of her costume, and in a pool spreading across the highly polished wood stage, soaking into her favorite satin ballet slippers._

 _She ran, leaving a trail of bloody footprints, but couldn't get away. The doors were locked, and everything around her spun so fast the colors blended into a gray smear._

 _Natasha squeezed her eyes shut to ease the dizziness, and when she opened them, the world was moving again. No, it was_ _she_ _that was moving. She'd been placed on a wheeled table and was being pushed through the corridors of an ancient hospital. The ceiling tiles were dingy and pitted with holes, the lights covered in a film of grime and dust, as if no one had been here in decades. Her mind was fuzzy, and she tried to fight what was to come, but couldn't muster the strength._

 _Suddenly, bright lights shown down on her from above, voices spoke, but the words didn't make sense. An unsmiling face hovered over her, holding a scalpel with blood dripping from it. The hand touched the scalpel to the center of her chest, using it to cut a slit down the length of her torso. The pain seared through her body, and she screamed…_

Natasha rolled out of bed into a crouch, her hand unerringly reaching for one of the many weapons hidden in the home, her left hand coming up with a six-inch knife, eyes searching for what had awakened her. Nothing moved, and the only sounds were of Bucky's gentle breathing, and her heart thumping in her ears.

Then, she heard it. The creak of a floorboard, and footsteps padding away from the bedroom. She crept to the door, and eased it open without a sound. Cocking her head to the side, she listened, and soon heard another floor creak, this time near Wanda's room.

Peeking around the door jamb, she saw her daughter opened her bedroom door. Relieved that she hadn't attacked out of instinct, Natasha lay the knife on the vanity, and stepped fully into the balcony area overlooking the first floor. "Wanda," she whispered, and the girl jumped.

She clapped a hand over her mouth and spun around, eyes wide in the dim light. "Oh!"

Keeping her voice low, Natasha moved toward her daughter. "Didn't mean to startle you. What're you doing up?"

"I wanted a snack. My feet are cold so I was going after my slippers."

Her explanation sounded rehearsed, as if she'd planned what to say if she was caught. "Get them, and we'll go down together. I'll make us some hot cocoa."

Wanda went into her room and came out hopping on one foot then the other, putting on the slippers.

~~O~~

Wanda almost pulled away at the strange feel of Natasha's hand. It was warm, and slightly damp, as if she'd been holding something tightly, and had just put it down. Her breathing was faster than normal too. Did that mean she knew that Wanda hadn't told the truth about why she was out of her room? It didn't really matter, and so she didn't say anything, going along with the fiction as if it were fact.

As they reached the stairs, Natasha went ahead. "It's okay to tell me if you had a bad dream. You don't have to make up an excuse, _malyutka_."

"I have not had a bad dream since that night. None bad enough to need my mother." In the kitchen, Wanda took out cups and spoons while Natasha poured milk into a saucepan, and put it on to heat. The cocoa was on the top shelf, and Wanda took that down as well. "In the first months that Pietro and I were on the streets hiding from the police, and those who wanted to separate us, we often had little to eat or drink. Sometimes we stole food, and others, we worked for what little we were given." She went around the counter, and took a seat, watching Natasha at the stove, stirring the milk. "When I dream about those days, it's like I am there again. I come downstairs for a small snack."

Natasha poured the milk into the cups, and pushed them across the counter. "Why don't you keep snacks in your room?"

Stirring her cocoa and grinning ruefully, Wanda lied yet again. "Because Priscilla has gotten into them on several occasions, and I do not want to clean the carpet yet again."

A short laugh popped out at her admission. "That's why we have snap-locks on the food bins. I'm just glad cats don't have thumbs." They sat in silence for a while, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts, Natasha stirring her cocoa, her eyes focused on nothing. "Tonight, I dreamt about the Red Room."

That was not something that Wanda had heard from her before. Not the words, or the tone. Part wistful, with an edge of bitterness. She placed her hand on Natasha's back, offering comfort, and something else.

At the point of contact, a red mist formed, swirling around Wanda's finger that touched Natasha's skin. It spread across her back, and was absorbed while she talked about her training as the Black Widow.

Soon, the words stopped, and the cocoa was gone. As if they'd been talking about something entirely different, Natasha smiled, and patted Wanda's hand. "Feel better now?"

"I do. Thank you." She picked up the cups and carried them to the sink. When she turned around, Natasha was waiting for her. She held out her hand, and Wanda took it.

Upstairs, Natasha waited until Wanda had gone into her room to softly open her door, and close it again. Listening with her mind, she felt Natasha lie down, pull the covers over her, and snuggle next to Bucky.

Lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling, Wanda lay awake for a long time. The door opened a crack, admitting Priscilla and Archie. They jumped on the bed with her, vying for her attention, and she gave it to them.

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **A Few Days Later**

The light went out in the bathroom, and Justin went to sit on the floor by Dexter's box, watching him sleep with his back pressed against the bear, and one paw under his head. He hadn't learned to retract his claws yet. They stuck out, and were always getting caught on the bear or the blanket, causing Dexter to scream bloody murder. It was a miracle the neighbors hadn't banged on the walls.

He rubbed a finger between Dexter's eyes, under his chin, and along his belly. The back legs twitched as if he were ticklish. To get a jump on the next few meals, Justin went to the kitchen to mix formula and pour it into bottles so all he had to do was warm it to body temperature. In just the last couple of days, the kitten's appetite had tripled, and he now weighed in at whopping eight ounces. Up from the paltry three and a half ounces he weighed at the vet.

Olivia advised him to groom Dexter with a toothbrush after meals. The bristles simulated the feel of his mother's tongue, and helped him learn to groom himself. It was working too. While Dexter loved the feel of the toothbrush, once Justin stopped, he would continue, licking his paws and legs. He once tried to lick his belly, and flopped over on his back, all four legs and his tail flailing the air as he tried to roll over again.

He also didn't mind the baths so much anymore, which was good, because he was starting to "go" without help, and Justin would have to bathe him to get rid of the mess, and taking care of him kept his mind and hands busy so he didn't have time to brood. It wasn't working, but it was something to do to avoid doing what he didn't want to do.

Dr. Rutledge hadn't said anything in group about the nights Chase missed, but he did peer at him over his glasses, reminding him of a taskmaster of a world history teacher he had in high school. The man set nearly impossible standards, forcing his students to redo term papers over and over until he was satisfied.

After last night's group, Justin called Chase to remind him about the partners therapy Rutledge suggested. His brother used work as an excuse, and Justin called him on it. They both knew the reason he didn't want to go was so he could spend more time with Iris. Justin expected to hear any day now that they were moving in together.

With the formula mixed and stored, Justin didn't have anything to do. He thought briefly of calling Marshall, but it was a little late for a date, unless the ultimate goal was to end up in bed together. Justin wasn't ready for that. Might never be. He also knew that going out on a second, or even third date would give Marshall the idea that they might possibly be moving toward a steady relationship, and he didn't want to lead him on. And that's when he realized that even if he didn't get back with Rey, he'd outgrown people like Marshall. He was decent company, and felt they'd be better off as friends. Now how to tell _him_ that when he so obviously wanted more.

To stop thinking about his screwed-up love life, Justin got out a yellow legal pad and a pen, and carried them to the dining room table. Dr. Rutledge had given the group an exercise: make a list of all the people you've wronged in your lifetime, and the wrong you committed. On another pad, write the names again, only this time, tell how you would do things differently, given the same set of circumstances.

He put on a pot of coffee, and checked on Dexter one more time before getting down to business. Hours later, Justin stopped writing when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID, silenced the ringing, and kept working until he'd completely filled two of the yellow legal pads. And he wasn't finished.

Justin stopped long enough to use the bathroom, feed Dexter and himself, as well as make more coffee, and continued writing long after the sun came up.

~~O~~

Following his marathon soul searching session, Justin was restless, and needed to work off some nervous energy. He brought Dexter out to the living room and put him in the playpen made from a cardboard box, a blanket, and a bunch of toys while he went for a long run.

Six miles into it, the scent of coffee drew him to a Java Hut. He was about to go in when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Rey was sitting at a table talking and laughing with a guy, thirty-ish, Hispanic, lean with bulging biceps. The man held Rey's hand, and she let him.

Annoyed that she'd found someone so soon, Justin changed his mind about the coffee, and continued on his run. Upon his return home, he found Dexter chewing on the head of a mouse toy. He saw Justin, and crawled over to put his paws on the side, watching him with a quizzical head-tilt, and he smiled. How could he stay annoyed with that face waiting at home for him? After his bottle, Dexter fell into what Justin called a milk coma.

Instead of putting him back in the box, he left the kitten in the playpen, and went to the refrigerator to see what there was to eat. On the way, his eyes fell on the yellow pads filled with his deepest, darkest secrets, and it made him angry all over again.

Justin swiped the phone from the counter, scrolled the contact list, and dialed. "Marshall? Justin. How do you feel about a pub crawl?"

 **The Barnes Family Home**

"Hi, kids!" Bucky called out to the twins playing a video game in the living room

"Hello, James!" they yelled without pausing the game.

"Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs!"

Shaking his head, Bucky climbed the stairs to their room, and opened the door. Natasha was sitting in the lounge chair near the window covered with a blanket, a book she wasn't reading open on her lap that. She was staring out the window, though he got the feeling that she was seeing something other than the rich and vibrant earth-tones of the fall leaves. It was strange because she loved fall.

"Hey." She looked up at him, and he crouched next to the chair. "Something wrong?"

Her shoulders shrugged. "Not feeling myself today."

Because she didn't get sick, Bucky was immediately concerned. "What's wrong? Upset stomach? Headache? Sore feet? Dandruff?"

That got a tired smile out of Natasha. "Just don't feel like doing much of anything."

Bucky sat beside his wife, holding her hand. "The kids and I'll make dinner. What would you like?"

"Not hungry."

He wasn't happy with that answer. "You rest, and I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

~~O~~

The smell of food cooking made Natasha's stomach grumble in protest that it hadn't been fed since the night before. She set the book aside, threw off the blanket, pushed her feet into slippers, and made her way downstairs.

She found Bucky in the kitchen, and the twins setting the table in the dining room, when they usually ate at the counter. A surge of love for the three of them filled her heart that they would go to so much trouble to make her feel better. "Smells good. Maybe I am hungry after all."

The twins took turns hugging her then Pietro held her chair. "You're just in time. James made potato and ham soup, Wanda made the salads, and I made the hot cider with cinnamon."

" _Kids!_ "

They rushed to help Bucky carry the food to the table. Pietro passed out salads while Wanda ladled soup into their bowls. "I have never had this before. I'm anxious to try it."

Natasha held her husband's hand, and smiled, finally feeling a bit more energetic. "James is a wonderful cook. He learned from Connie."

As she took her seat, Wanda asked, "And this does not bother you?"

"On the contrary. I thank Connie every day for giving James the happy family he never thought he deserved, and showing him that the world was better for having him in it." Bucky took her hand, and kissed the back of her fingers. "Without Connie, he might've become a grumpy old coot who turns the sprinklers on kids who wandered into his yard on Halloween."

The family exchanged amused glances, and dug into their food.

~~O~~

Holding a napkin over her mouth so she wouldn't spit her food, Natasha laughed at Bucky's story from when he and Steve were nine and Bucky had stopped bullies from bothering Steve on the playground at recess.

"…so they're walking away with their tails between their legs, when Steve opens his big mouth and says, 'You know, you guys are proof that God has a sense of humor.'" Grinning around his food, Bucky hit them with a zinger. "They're probably still scratching their heads."

Wanda almost fell out of her chair, and Natasha grabbed her hand to stop it. "Whoa there. It's not meant literally when someone says ROFL."

Her daughter abruptly stopped laughing, and glanced toward the living room. A moment later, a cell phone rang.

"I'll get it." Natasha wiped her mouth, scooted back from the table, and rushed to catch the call before it stopped. "Romanoff."

" _Ah, Ms. Romanoff. I hope you and your husband are well_."

Not in the mood to play guessing games, Natasha was tempted to hang up, but something told her it wouldn't be a good idea. "Who is this?"

" _Lazlo Novacek. I handled your adoption of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff in Sokovia_."

Taking a breath to keep from swearing, she injected false cheerfulness into her voice, speaking as she returned to the dining room. "Yes, of course, Mr. Novacek." She put emphasis on his name. "What can I do for you?"

The man exhaled loudly into the phone. " _I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid there's been a grievous mistake. The adoption was made in error. Wanda and Pietro must be returned to Sokovia immediately_."

 **TBC**


	94. Chapter 94

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. No, seriously. Don't read it if you're under 21.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 94**

 **Kingston Street Pub**

 **Karaoke Night**

The music was loud, and upbeat. Just what Justin needed to bring him out of his funk. He opened the door for Marshall, and followed him in. Marshall pointed to a table, and they made their way over, taking their seats as the server joined them. She was mid-twenties with nose and lip rings, hair that was colored green on top, and fuchsia on the ends, and had her nails painted to match.

"Welcome to Kingston Street Pub. My name is Fi. Drink and food specials are in the small menu, and regular food and drinks in the big one. What can I get you guys to start?"

Marshal flipped to the drinks, and leaned close to Justin, pointing out the one on the bottom. Justin nodded. "Let's try a couple of Campfire Slings."

"You got it, boys. Have a look at the menu. I'll be right back." She popped her gum, and went on to the next table.

Justin moved his chair so he could see the stage when they heard a drum roll. A man dressed conservatively compared to the patrons came on stage and stood in front of the mic. "My name is Pauly, and I'll be your host for this evening's festivities."

"What's he talking about?" Marshall whispered.

"Sh."

Pauly unbuttoned the front of his jacket. "On your tables, you'll find several cards. If you'd like to participate, fill one out with your first name, the song you'd like to sing, and what key you sing in, if you know it."

Nestled in between the sugar holder, and the salt and pepper shakers, Justin found the cards and a pen. He thought for a moment, then wrote down his song choice, and handed the card to a passing server. In the dim light, he could see a few others doing the same.

"Come on, don't be shy. We're all friends here, right?"

The cards were gathered, and handed over to Pauly. He shuffled through them with a big smile. "Bold choices, my friends. If the band doesn't know it, we have canned music." He came to the last one, holding it up. "This fella wants to go toward the end of the show. Should we let him?"

The audience applauded, and Pauly relented. He wrote on the corners, supposedly the order of the line-up. He shuffled through the cards one more time, and looked out at the audience. "Shelly, you're up first."

Justin's mouth dropped open, and snapped closed again. Not an advocate of skinny jeans for the majority of the population, Justin was surprised to see a plus-sized girl rocking them with knee high brown boots, a tan sweater with a deep v-neck, and a chocolate brown tank top underneath. The outfit was accessorized with a gold lariat necklace, gold watch, and two gold rings on each hand.

Her hair fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades, wavy, and was a medium brown with lighter highlights. The woman walked with confidence and assurance as she stepped onto the stage. When she moved, her breasts jiggled, drawing his attention to the cleavage peeking above the tank top. Her make-up, lightly applied, enhanced the flawless skin over her high cheekbones, and the smoky eyes grabbed ahold of his soul.

He downed his drink, and signaled for the server.

"Another of the same?"

"Cranberry Margarita, frozen, no salt or sugar, double the tequila, half the lime juice, and add a wedge of orange with the cranberries."

Fi wrote his order on her pad, took the empty glass, and disappeared in the direction of the bar. He felt a touch on his arm, and again, Marshall leaned close. "Keep that up, and you'll be drunk before it's your turn."

Justin snorted. "I never get drunk." He put a finger to his lips for quiet when Shelly stepped up to the mic, nodding over her shoulder to the band.

The music started with a short intro on the piano and a pattering of drums. Shelly stepped up, one hand lightly touching the mic, almost caressing it. The song started out free and easy, and soon, the girl was belting out Blu Cantrell's _Hit 'Em Up Style_ like nobody's business, with the singers providing back-up. She had a slightly husky undertone that fit the song perfectly, finishing off with a bang.

 _Hey ladies  
When your man wanna get buck-wild  
Just go back and hit 'em up style  
Put your hands on his cash and_

 _Oh, when you go then everything goes  
From the crib to the ride and the clothes  
So you better let him know that  
If he messed up you gotta hit 'em up_

 _Hey ladies  
Hey ladies!_

Shelly ended the song to wild applause. She bowed and waved as she left the stage. Justin was about to go talk to her when their food was delivered. He made note of where she was sitting so he could find her later. If there was time, maybe they could sing a duet.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The look on Natasha's face disturbed Bucky because he'd never seen her on the verge of panic before. Their eyes met as she put a finger to her lips and set the phone on the dining room table.

"I don't understand, Mr. Novacek. You said the kids chose _us_. My husband and I went to great expense to bring them to the US. Not that we regret spending the money, not at all. Wanda and Pietro have settled in. They're going to school, they have friends, family, pets. You _can't_ take them away."

Through the phone, they heard knocking, Novacek going to the door, and a room service waiter wheeling a cart into the room.

" _It's rather late, Ms. Romanoff, I'm about to have my supper. Something of this nature needs to be discussed in person. Could you, your husband, and the children meet me in two days time? And make sure the children are packed for the flight back to Sokovia. Passports and so forth. We have reservations for the following afternoon. I have some personal business to attend tomorrow afternoon and evening outside of Washington, and will be free anytime the following day. Of course, the time and place will be your choice._ "

By this time, the twins were standing with their arms around each other, Wanda with her head on Pietro's shoulder. Bucky took hold of Natasha's hand, admiring her skill at creating a false atmosphere of geniality when their world was falling apart.

"My husband will need to take time off work. I'll leave a message with the hotel where we'll be meeting."

They all heard the sharp exhale of relief that their conversation hadn't take the nasty turn he expected. " _Yes, please. I will be in and out all day from ten in the morning on, but I will check back frequently_." He gave the name of the hotel and his room number, and disconnected.

Natasha hung up, and the four of them stared at the phone for a while. Bucky stood at the same time as his wife, and as if it were something they'd done from birth, the family joined in a group hug. Keeping his voice steady, Bucky touched his forehead briefly to Pietro's, and kissed Wanda on the temple. "We'll figure this out, kids. I promise." He nudged them away. "You're probably not hungry now, but try to finish your dinner."

The twins took their seats, Wanda scooting her chair closer to Bucky, who sat at the head of the table. "I will _not_ sleep tonight."

"Nor will I," Pietro added.

He felt Natasha's nails dig into his hand. "That makes it unanimous, but we need to be sharp for whatever's coming."

They all nodded, and put their heads down over their bowls, just pushing the food around, and occasionally taking a bite. Then, one by one, they carried the dishes to the kitchen, came back to clean the table off, and together, they washed and put away the dishes, and put the leftover food in the refrigerator.

In the living room, the family were all lost in thought until Bucky said, "We need a family meeting. Do some brainstorming."

Natasha took out her phone, and sent a mass text. _9-1-1! Mandatory family meeting, our house, noon_. "I'll send out a few feelers, try to find out what's going on, just in case HYDRA's involved."

 **Kingston Street Pub**

Watching Marshall with a side-eye, Justin mentally shook his head as his companion finished yet another drink, a total of four to the nine he'd drunk himself, if you counted the doubles as two singles.

An older woman who obviously had delusions regarding her own talent finished an abominable version of _Midnight Blue_. Polite applause greeted her as she left the stage.

Pauly came to the mic, a false smile on his face. "Lindy." There was more applause, and when it died down, he held up the last card. "This is the last one, gang. After the break, if there's someone you'd like to hear again, slip your server the name on a card. Until then, our next singer is Finn, and he going to do something different from our usual fare."

Justin finished off his drink, wiped his mouth, and weaved between the tables to the front. He adjusted the mic while talking. "Everyone having a good time?" There were whistles and cheers. "My grandfather has been a huge influence in my life, instilling in the family a strong work ethic, pride in this great country of ours, respect for others, and a love of music. That's why I chose a classic from the thirties for tonight's performance." He nodded at the sound man, and the intro played.

 _Heaven, I'm in heaven  
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak  
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek_

Taking the mic from its stand, he jumped off the stage, doing a little dance in the open area in front of the tables. He grabbed a fedora setting on one of the tables, pulling the brim down over his right eye, as he danced.

 _Yes, heaven, I'm in heaven  
And the cares that hung around me through the week  
Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek_

His next stop was a table with two couples. Justin stuck his head between the men, and winked at the women.

 _Oh I love to climb to mountain  
And reach the highest peak  
But it doesn't thrill me half as much  
As dancing cheek to cheek_

Spying a woman who had to be in her seventies at least, Justin slid into the seat next to her, miming casting a fishing pole.

 _Oh I love to go out fishing  
In a river or a creek  
But I don't enjoy it half as much  
As dancing cheek to cheek_

He put his arm around her and moved in close so their cheeks were touching. The woman laughed and gave him a shove.

 _Come on, dance with me  
I want my arms about you  
That charm about you  
Will carry me through heaven_

 _I'm in heaven  
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak  
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek_

As he'd planned, Justin reached the table Shelly was sharing with three other women. He pulled a chair up next to her, singing the first word, and holding the mic for her to sing the echo.

 _Heaven (heaven), I'm in heaven (I'm in heaven)_

He held the mic so they could do the next lines together.

 _And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak_

Taking her hand, he urged Shelly to stand, turning her so that they were back to back, surprised to find that she was close to his height.

 _And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
_

With a wicked grin at the audience, he rubbed his backside against hers.

 _When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek_

Justin finished off the song back where he started, on stage, and the mic went back onto the stand.

 _When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek_

He tilted the fedora lower over his eyes, and finished the song.

 _Cheek… to cheek  
_

With the last drum beat, Justin tossed the fedora back to its owner.

The applause was loud and long, almost to the point of embarrassment. As he made his way back to the table he shared with Marshall, people shook his hand, and gave him thumbs up. He finally reached his goal, pulled out his chair, and sat down.

Not that talkative to start with, Marshall was being unusually quiet, and watching him with a strange look. He leaned forward, arms on the table. "Now I remember where I've seen you before."

Knowing what he was going to say, Justin picked up his drink. "Wasn't me."

"Yes, it _was_. I've seen you perform before, at Tunnel Vision." Then, his expression changed to confusion. "You're supposed to be _dead_."

~~O~~

Standing in the entryway, Rey heard a familiar voice, and wished her companion had chosen another place for dinner. "It's too crowded and noisy, Rio. Let's go somewhere else."

The tall Hispanic man draped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Reya. They have the best braised pork belly sliders in town, and you love watching karaoke."

"No. _You_ love karaoke. I just tolerate it when we go out together."

"It's settled. We're staying." Rio helped her out of her jacket, took his off, and hung them over his arm, taking her hand to lead them to a table. "It'll be fun. Promise I won't get up and sing."

Rey sat down, and scooted her chair in, keeping her eyes on the stage, empty except for instruments. "Thank God for small favors," she deadpanned.

"Hmph. My singing isn't that bad."

"Not if you enjoy hearing a cat being skinned alive." The server arrived, took their orders, and moved off to fill them. "I'm going to the ladies room. Behave while I'm gone, or I'll tell your mom about that incident in high school." Before Rio could make a scathing come-back, Rey escaped to the bathrooms, taking the last stall. When she finished, she remained sitting. If she'd known Justin was going to be here, she and Rio would've gone somewhere else.

Having wallowed in self-pity long enough, she washed her hands, checked her hair, and left the bathroom. With her head down, she didn't see someone coming, and ran right into him. His hands grabbed her upper arms to keep her from falling, and when she looked up, Justin's bright blue eyes were looking down at her.

Without a word, he let her go, and she returned to the table, where she picked up her purse and jacket. "We're leaving. _Now_. Come with me, or get left behind."

Rio grabbed his jacket and raced after her, catching up in the parking lot. "What is with you lately? You're acting like you haven't gotten laid in months instead of weeks."

She poked a finger in his chest. "Say that in front of Tia Sophia. I dare you!"

He relented, and held her door so she could get in then went around to the passenger seat. "Would you leave my mother out of this? She won't leave me alone since I got back from deployment. Always feeding me, and asking if I'm okay. _Where_ are we going?"

"Back to my place. We can order out, and watch a movie. You can even sleep on the sofa tonight to get some peace from motherly affection."

"Fine. As long as I get to choose the movie."

Rey stopped at the light. "Deal."

~~O~~

"Do I look dead to you? Excuse me." Abruptly, Justin left the table, moving into the shadows. He watched Rey get up and leave with the same man he'd seen her holding hands with at the Java Hut. Their attitude toward each other spoke of closeness, though not intimacy, leading him to believe that he was someone she'd known for a long time. An ex perhaps.

The server passed him, taking yet another drink to his table. Marshall would _not_ be a happy camper in the morning. As the server came near, he called her over. They had a short, whispered conversation, and he stuffed a twenty in her cleavage with a smile. Going forward, all of Marshall's drinks would be virgin.

He was about to return to his table when he saw Shelly coming in his direction, hips swaying, exuding sexuality and charm. Those curves just begged for man to spend all night learning their shape by touch alone. But he was here with someone else, and couldn't ditch him for a slight chance at a romp with a stranger. Or could he?

A pair of brown boots stopped in front of him, one foot forward of the other, weight on the back foot, and both hands on her hips, the red-tipped nails short and rounded. He continued up, lingering an extra moment on that wedge of cleavage, and finally meeting those eyes. Hazel, just like he knew they'd be. Her mouth was twisted into a smirk. "Just window shopping, or lookin' to buy, honey?"

Fighting fire with fire, Justin crossed his arms, shifted his weigh, and gave her a wicked smile. "Thinking of renting."

Shelly moved closer. "Mmm. A try it before you buy it kinda guy, huh? Maybe we can work out a deal." She angled her head back toward her table. "Sort of on a date."

Justin pointed his chin toward Marshall. "Me too." He dropped his hands, and took a small step forward. "Ever play for the other team?"

"Now and then. You."

"When the mood suits me." He added a nonchalant shrug, giving her a sexy grin. "And I'm thinking it might suit me tonight."

Again, those hazel eyes dropped down to his feet and back up. "Got a decent voice, Finn. Do anything professional with it?"

"Not really. How'd you like to sing a duet to bring the night to a close?"

Shelly passed him on the left, trailing a finger over his collarbones right to left, leaning close to whisper, "I'm the up-all-night type." She brushed against him, and he got to thinking things he should be thinking about his date, and not a stranger. "When I come out, we'll pick a song."

On impulse, Justin caressed her ribs allowing his thumb to lightly brush against the underside of those amazing breasts. "I'll be waiting."

 **The Lockwood/Rogers Home**

"…I got most of the junk out of the second bedroom. If we were staying, I'd paint and replace the carpet before Alice moves in." Steve talked to Joi while checking the food in the oven.

" _Laz and Bella have decided to finish filming in Canada so you and Alice can come along, or I can go home on the weekends to finish out this season. We'll go back to Europe and Asia next season_." He heard her flop on the sofa in her room. " _I should be home in a few days_."

Steve's phone beeped, and he switched to text message, frowning. "Can you get here by noon tomorrow?"

Her shoes hit the floor one after the other. " _Don't think so. Why?_ "

"Bucky's called a family meeting. 9-1-1."

" _Damn! Nat and Gramps wouldn't use 9-1-1 unless it was a dire emergency_." The hall door opened and closed, and Steve heard Elyse's voice in the background. " _Video chat me when you get there so I can be there. Noon, you said?_ "

 **Chase's Condo**

Sitting on the sofa with Iris nestled between his thighs, her back pressed to his, Chase felt he'd won the lottery. A beautiful woman he cared deeply about, who felt the same was something he thought he wouldn't find until he was too old to enjoy it.

His phone beeped, but he ignored it, instead choosing to let his fingers trail lightly up and down Iris' satin covered thigh while romantic music played softly as they sipped hot cocoa. He rubbed his cheek against hers, adding a small kiss at the end. She responded by closing her eyes, sighing, and snuggling deeper into his embrace.

The phone beeped again, annoying them both.

"You should get it in case it's the club." Iris' voice had a sleepy, warm, almost dreamy quality to it.

"Don't want to." When the blasted thing beeped a third time, Chase stretched out his arm, barely able to reach. Using his thumb, he accessed the text messages, inhaling sharply at the emergency message.

"Something wrong?"

He didn't want to worry her, so he shut the phone off, and put it away. "Nothing that can't wait. Now, where were we?"

Her chuckle vibrated against his chest. "Exactly where we are now, Chase."

"Right. Ready to go to bed?"

She drew random shapes on the back of his hand now lying on her stomach. "Not yet. Let's stay here a few more minutes."

Using two fingers to turn her head so they could kiss, Chase murmured, "As you wish, my queen."

 **Mia's Apartment**

Through the haze of sexual excitement, Mia vaguely heard the phone buzz, but ignored it, preferring to keep her attention on the things Sam was doing to her body and mind. Suddenly, every muscle tightened. "O-oh!"

Reaching under the covers, she brought Sam up to where she could kiss him as her body loosened to where she could move again. Sam rested his head on her bare chest, holding her tight.

Again, the phone buzzed. To stop its annoying interruptions, Mia opened the nightstand drawer, pushed the phone in, and closed it again. "It's been three… long… weeks, Sam. Don't stop now."

"Oh, I'm not stopping, babe," he told her with a smirk as he ducked back under the covers. "I'm just getting started."

 **Serenity and Collin's Home**

The phone flashed alternating red and white lights. Milo jumped up on the side of the bed, and patted Collin with a paw until he rolled over. Seeing the phone, he read the text message, and tapped out a response.

* _Can't. Hv appt OB 12:15 for 1_ _st_ _sonogram. We'll swing by afterwards._ *

** _Okay. See you then_.**

 **Kingston Street Pub**

Glad for the long sweater that hid the evidence of the arousal caused by his flirtatious banter with Shelly, Justin returned to Marshall, who was drinking the last of an Irish Coffee. Justin hoped it was virgin and decaf, because the last thing he needed tonight was a wide-awake drunk on his hands. "Sorry I was gone so long, Marshall."

He smiled loopily. "Ya know, you're kinda cute."

Knowing it was the alcohol talking, Justin smiled. "Thanks. Not so bad yourself."

"Not so bad?" He flexed his biceps. "I work out twice a day every day. No days off. Most of the time, I eat right. Got a decent couplea jobs, a nice apartment, an' I smell good."

Humoring him, Justin accepted another drink from the server. "You're right. You _do_ smell good. Like an umbrella drink at the beach." He took the glass his companion was drinking from and sniffed it. Virgin. And he hadn't even noticed. "I'm doing another song, a duet with one of the other singers. After that, we'll go, if you're ready."

Marshall waved a hand drunkenly. "Anytime you are, Just, uh, Justin."

A musical tone came from Justin's jacket hung over the back of his chair. He dug the phone out, intending to shut it off, and saw the text message. Most of his good humor evaporated. The 9-1-1 code had only been used once that he could recall: the day Gramps got home and found Grams on the sofa, dead from a massive stroke. If this was a similar situation, Gramps and Nat wouldn't have called the family meeting for noon tomorrow.

From the corner of his eye, Justin saw Shelly come out of the ladies room and saunter in the direction of the table she shared with her friends. She winked, leaving him with memory of that smoky gaze, and how those eyes seemed able to see things he wanted to keep hidden.

He lifted his chin, and nodded toward a dark alcove closed off by a curtain, where they could talk privately for a few minutes. Shelly's eyes flicked over, and back, her head tilting down, one finger raised, and continued on to her destination. To Marshall, Justin said, "Be right back. No more alcohol."

Marshall flipped a thumbs up. "Got it."

Justin slipped into the alcove where there had once been pay phones. There were no chairs. Just the counter where the phone books had been kept. Standing in the dark, he pushed a hand through his hair, and the next thing he knew, Shelly's plus-size figure was pressing his back to the wall. His hands dropped down to grabbed her backside, kneading the flesh as their mouths and tongues grappled.

 **TBC**

 _Hit 'Em Up Style (Oops!)_ is the debut single by American R &B singer Blu Cantrell, written and produced by Dallas Austin and featured on Cantrell's debut album, _So Blu_ (2001).

 _Midnight Blue_ is a Top Ten hit single by Melissa Manchester that was released April 1975.

 _Cheek to Cheek_ is a song written by Irving Berlin in 1935, for the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movie _Top Hat_ (1935).


	95. Chapter 95

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. No, seriously. Don't read it if you're under 21.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 95**

In the part of his mind that still functioned, Justin knew that this instant attraction to a stranger couldn't last. When something burned this hot this quickly, it was bound to fizzle out just as fast. A moment of guilt flitted through his mind, and he kicked it out. If he and Rey weren't on a break, there's no way he would even consider doing what he was thinking about doing.

Shelly's hands pulled the back of his t-shirt from his pants so she could scrape her nails over the skin. In response, he lifted the sweater and tank top high enough to see her lacy bra. He bent down to bury his face in those glorious breasts, jerking upright when he felt her nimble fingers unbuckle his belt. A twist of the wrist opened the button it uncovered, and the zipper was lowered.

Breathing hard, he did the same to her. Unfortunately, with those boots on, Shelly's jeans and panties were in the way. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, he sat her on the counter. Dropping into a crouch, he came up between her thighs, the bunched-up jeans now pressing into his lower back.

Her awed grin made those eyes twinkle. Justin joined their mouths and bodies at the same time, each swallowing the other's gasp as he moved. Within moment, they were close, so close. He separated their lips enough to say, "I-oh! I should tell you, I sorta have a girlfriend."

He pushed deep, and Shelly bit her lip, moaning low in her throat. She grasped his backside and dug those nails in. "So do I, sorta." Her hips tilted as she pulled him closer, driving him even deeper. "We-" she hooked her heels around the back of his thighs, "we're on a-oh! Oh, God!"

She buried her face in his chest, and clamped her teeth on his shirt to keep from screaming, while he tightened his arms as they shuddered through their mutual climax.

They sagged in each other's arms, panting hard, amazed at the strange and wonderful turn of events. Their eyes met, and they shared sheepish grins. Without thinking, Justin whispered, "Oh, ****."

Shelly's ample breasts jiggled against his chest as he pressed their foreheads together. "You can say that again." She lay a finger over his lips to stop him.

They sorted themselves out. Justin helped Shelly down from the counter, and pulled her pink satin panties and jeans up to her thighs before dressing himself. Looking down at the floor while buckling his belt, he remarked, "Never done that before. Had sex in the back room of a bar with someone I barely know."

"Neither have I. Usually insist on dinner and a movie first."

Grinning, Justin bent down to pick up the earring she'd dropped. "This is going to sound presumptuous."

"But…"

He swiftly moved in close again, hugging her, wanting to feel those breasts pushing against his chest. "Would you spend the night with me?" She opened and closed her mouth, and Justin rushed to assure her, "Just tonight. The whole night. And in the morning, no regrets. Deal?"

Shelly tightened her arms, and brought her mouth close to his ear. "Deal. No regrets. We go our separate ways."

They kissed one more time, sweetly. "Let's go do a song so we can get out of here." Then, he remembered. "Shit! I have to take Marshall home first. He's too drunk to drive, and we came in his car."

"I can follow you, and take you home afterwards."

He nodded, and pulled the edge of the curtain aside so he could peek out. "You go first."

One long finger lightly trailed down his cheek, the pad smoothing over his lips. Shelly wiggled her eyebrows. "See ya soon, Finn."

And she was gone, leaving the curtain fluttering. From the corner of his eye, Justin saw a small red light attached to a closed-circuit camera. Someone had just gotten an eyeful of them having sex. Rather than show embarrassment, he smirked and saluted the camera.

 **Rey's Condo**

The SUV pulled into the driveway and stopped, and Rey sat there gripping the steering wheel. "Rio, do you mind if we do this another night? I'm kinda tired."

Her cousin snorted. "You were fine until you ran into your ex."

"You saw him?"

He shook his head. "No. But I recognize when someone's run into another someone they don't want to talk to or about." The seatbelt was released. "I'll bite the bullet, and spend another night with Mom. Hopefully, my apartment will be ready in a few days."

Rey gave her cousin a thankful smile, and gripped his hand. "You're the best. Talk to you in a few days."

Rio leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Count on it." She waited until his motorcycle disappeared around the corner to take out her cell phone and scroll for a number she'd called several times over the past few months: Harry Deveraux. It was answered immediately.

" _Reya, sweetheart! What's up?_ "

"I-I need someone to talk to, Harry. Can I come over?" The pause between her question and Harry's answer was long. Too long. "Someone's there. Never mind."

In the background, she heard the sofa creak like a donkey braying, mentally shaking her head that he still hadn't replaced the wretched thing. " _Currently single, so come on over. I'll pour the wine, put on some music, and you can tell me your troubles. Or we could just make love all night under the stars again_ ," he added with a smile in his voice. " _Your choice_."

Biting her lip, Rey quickly went over her reasons for calling Harry in the first place. "And if I want both?"

" _You got it. See you in a bit_."

"Thanks. I wish all ex-fiancés were as understanding and accommodating as you."

A cabinet opened, and she heard the tinkling of wine glasses hitting the counter. " _I only do it because I still love you, Minx_."

Rey laughed out loud. "You're the only one who calls me that."

" _You_ _are_ _a little minx, you know._ " Rey soaked up his sweet words, and the deep-throated voice that was like a purr, now as she had all those years ago when they first met. " _Now get in your environmentally friendly car and get over here, girl. I'll leave the door unlocked_."

She smiled fondly. "See you in twenty."

 **The Rachel Michalski Home**

Rachel Michalski tucked her only remaining foster child into bed, handed her the stuffed manatee she always slept with, and kissed her on the forehead. "'Night, sweetpea."

As she turned to go, Alice turned on the bedside lamp and sat up. "Rachel?"

She sat on the side of the bed, taking the girl's hand. "What, honey?"

"What do you think Steve would say if I asked him to be my new dad?"

Not wanting to spoil the surprise just in case the application wasn't accepted, Rachel brushed hair from the girl's forehead and smiled. "Wanna know a secret?"

Alice's eye lit up. "Yes!"

"I think he and his wife would be lucky to have you."

Her smile dimmed, and she tilted her head to the side. "They won't care that I'm not as smart as other kids?"

"Oh, honey, don't listen to what those jerks say. They're just jealous that you're smarter and prettier than they are."

"You really think so?"

Rachel squeezed the hand she was holding. "I _know_ so. Can any of _them_ bake a beautiful cake, or draw a picture, or talk to ghosts?" The girl thought for a moment, and shook her head. "One day, you'll be famous, and they'll still be jerks." Taking a moment to gather her thoughts that wandered so much these days, she smiled. "Tell you what. After my doctor's appointment tomorrow, let's go shopping for new outfits. Pink for you, and green for me."

A thought occurred to Alice. "What if Steve and his wife don't like pink?"

Seemingly shocked, Rachel leaned back, her eyes wide. "How could they not? You look fabulous in pink, and that's all that matters. They will love you. I'm sure of it."

Alice motioned Rachel down so she could whisper in her ear. "Don't tell him I know he's Captain America. He's incop-, intoger-…"

"Incognito. I won't say a word." Alice scooted back down, and Rachel pulled the pink and white comforter up to her neck. "Now go to sleep so you'll be rested for our shopping trip tomorrow."

At the door, she turned when Alice called her name. "Rachel?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I love you."

The back of Rachel's eyes stung. If she hadn't come down with cancer, her plans had been to petition for adoption. Maybe Steve and his wife would let her visit. "I love you too, Alice."

 **Nicole and Gracie's Home**

The bathroom light went out, and Nicole stepped into the hallway, huffing with annoyance. She'd put Gracie to bed nearly an hour ago, and the girl was still awake reading to her bear, Horatio. With her hand on the door, Nicole stopped at hearing a familiar sound, and went into the living room, to her purse.

Her phone beeped again as she pulled it out. Using her thumb, she scrolled the text sent by Natasha. "Huh. We haven't had a family meeting in years."

Nicole responded in the affirmative, powered down the phone, and put it in the charger then went back to check on her daughter. She knocked, and opened the door. Gracie had put the book away, and was on the floor playing with the new dolls she'd gotten with her allowance. Technically, they were considered action figures, but the girl insisted on calling them dolls. She had all the Avengers, and had just gotten the Winter Soldier doll from Amazon. She loved it so much, he stayed on her bedside table at night for protection.

Whenever anyone said something derogatory about the Winter Soldier, Gracie came to his defense, insisting that he was a good guy, despite news reports and law enforcement officials around the world saying otherwise. Her long, involved and surprisingly well thought out explanation for her faith in the man boiled down to its essence, stated: he was being controlled by someone else, possibly the group called HYDRA. To Gracie, the Winter Soldier would always be a hero.

Speaking of heroes… When she told her friends and classmates that she knew Captain America and that the Black Widow was married to her Papa, they all laughed at her. But after Steve and Natasha's visit to the school on career day, they'd stopped laughing. Nicole was grateful that they'd come when Gracie asked.

"Why aren't you asleep, munchkin?"

"I'm thinkin' about my costume for Halloween. Do you think Gramma would help make it?"

Nicole smiled. "Of course." Her daughter picked up the Winter Soldier doll, set him on the nightstand, and got into bed. "No more playing or reading, young lady. How would you like to go see Papa and Tasha tomorrow?"

"That would be so _cool_! I haven't seen them since they came to my school. Now, nobody makes fun of me. Even that stink bomb Jerry Panabaker leaves me alone now that he knows two of the Avengers are in my family."

"Good." Nicole kissed Gracie on the forehead, pulled the covers up to her neck, and turned off the lamp, leaving only the nightlight shining. "Sweet dreams, munchkin."

 **Kingston Street Pub**

From the end of the bar, Fi watched first Shelly then Finn come out of the alcove, and rejoin their tables. To the bartender, she said, "I'll be glad when the new storeroom is finished so people will stop having sex in it."

Freddie laughed while adding rum and a lime wedge to a glass of coke. "Wouldn't stop some. They want it bad enough, they'll find away." She set the glass on Fi's tray. "Just glad _I'm_ not the one who has to clean it up."

"You could always ask for hazard pay." Fi gave her a wry grin. "And here I thought they were both gay."

"Maybe your gaydar needs recalibrating."

Fi snorted as she picked up her drink-laden tray and turned away, murmuring under her breath, "That's not _all_ that needs recalibrating."

~~O~~

Once again, Pauly strode up to the mic, this time sans jacket. "Okay, folks, listen up. The votes are in for who you'd like to see perform again, and it's a tie. So, let's give it up for Shelly and Finn." Holding Shelly's hand, Justin let her lead the way, both smiling and waving to the crowd. "Wow. You're really made an impression, kids. What're going to sing for us?"

Shelly leaned into the mic. "Well, Pauly, even before the votes were in, Finn and I talked about doing a duet."

As if they'd planned it, Justin took his turn. "It was a difficult choice, Pauly, but we're going with _Dancin' in the Streets_."

More applause as Pauly had a second mic brought out, and left the stage. The band hit the intro running, and Justin and Shelly did the same to the lyrics, alternating who sang lead for the verses, and doing the chorus together.

 _Calling out around the world,  
Are you ready for a brand-new beat?  
Summer's here and the time is right  
For dancing in the street  
They're dancing in Chicago,  
Down in New Orleans,  
In New York City_

 _All we need is music, sweet music  
There'll be music everywhere  
There'll be swinging and swaying and records playing,  
Dancing in the street  
Oh, it doesn't matter what you wear,  
Just as long as you are there_

For the next verse, Justin grabbed Shelly, and danced her across the stage, spinning her under his arm.

 _So, come on, every guy, grab a girl  
Everywhere around the world  
They'll be dancing  
They're dancing in the street_

 _It's an invitation across the nation,  
A chance for folks to meet  
There'll be laughing, singing, and music swinging,  
Dancing in the street  
Philadelphia, P.A.  
Baltimore and D.C. now  
Can't forget the Motor City_

 _All we need is music, sweet music  
There'll be music everywhere  
There'll be swinging and swaying and records playing,  
Dancing in the street_

 _Oh, it doesn't matter what you wear,  
Just as long as you are there  
So come on, every guy, grab a girl  
Everywhere around the world  
They're dancing,  
They're dancing in the street._

As before, the applause went on so long that Justin wanted to tell them to shut the **** up, but he just bowed and waved.

Justin and Shelly took one more bow, and left the stage. During the last verse, Justin saw a man approach Marshall, taking a seat without an invitation. Even this far away, he could feel Marshall giving off "go away" vibes, but the man wasn't taking the hint.

 _Well, he_ _is_ _my date. Guess it's time to play the hero._

He pushed his sleeves up to the elbows so his tattoos and strong forearms showed, and marched up to the table. To Marshall, he said, "This guy bothering you, babe?"

If the other man thought the endearment odd, he didn't show it. Marshall glared drunkenly at the man. "Yeah. Kinda." Even drunk, he caught onto the charade. He sat back, and waved dismissively. "Take care of it for me, won't you, sweetheart?"

"My pleasure." Justin leaned a hand on the table, getting up in the man's face. "You heard him. Leave, before you force me to do something drastic."

The man, bleached blond without the skin tone to carry it off, crossed his arms, but didn't get up. He gave Justin the once-over, hooking a sneer on the end. "And if I don't, what're _you_ gonna do about it?"

~~O~~

A group of people standing under a tree smoking, looked up when a man came flying through the air to land at their feet. Mouths open, they looked at him, and back to the man standing just outside the main entrance. The doors were held open by a man on one side and a woman on the other, both wide-eyed.

The man at the door brushed his hands together, cracked his neck on the right then the left, smoothed the hair away from his face, turned and marched back inside.

The man on the ground groaned as he pushed to his hands and knees then to his feet. Seeing he had an audience, he stuck his nose in the air, stalked to a dark blue sedan, got in, and drove away.

~~O~~

Once again, Justin endured applause from those who'd witnessed his ejection of the troll. When he got close to his table, Shelly got his attention, holding up a hand with all five fingers extended, telling him she'd be ready to go in five minutes. Time to get his ersatz date into the car.

"Come on, pal. Time to go home." Marshall tried to stand, and fell. Chuckling, Justin helped him up. "When I said we were going on a pub crawl, this isn't how I pictured it."

Marshall swayed, and only Justin's hand on his arm kept him upright. "Me neither. Was kinda hopin' for a more enjoyable end to the night."

"You're not gonna enjoy much of anything until sometime tomorrow afternoon, Marshall. Maybe the day after." Fi blocked his exit. Justin took out his wallet and handed her a large bill, flashing a charming grin. "That's for the drinks and food, Fi. And this," he folded the bill and slid it into her cleavage like he'd done previously, adding a wink, "is for your troubles. Thanks for taking care of my pal here." He slapped Marshall on the back, and he hiccupped.

Fi fished the cash from between her breasts, shoving it in her pocket without looking at it. "My pleasure. Come back anytime, boys."

When they reached Marshall's car, Justin fished in his jacket pocket for the keys. Then he remembered he had no idea where his new friend lived. He pulled Marshall's wallet from his pants pocket, flipping it open to his driver's license. The address wasn't far. They'd make it in thirty minutes, give or take. Twenty the way Justin drove.

He used the fob to unlock the doors, and helped Marshall into the passenger seat. When he reached across to buckle his seatbelt, Marshall grinned blearily at him. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Trying to keep your sorry ass from flying through the windshield if I have to stop suddenly."

"Coo'."

He closed the door and went around to the driver's side, scanning the parking lot for Shelly, but didn't see her. Had she changed her mind about spending the night with him? He wouldn't blame her. They'd known each other less than two hours. Sure, they'd already had mind blowing sex, so if she had left, he'd be fine. The front of his pants tightened fractionally. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't be fine. He'd just have to deal with it.

A car pulled up, the window buzzed down, and Shelly smiled. "Ready when you are, Finn."

Justin chuckled. "My name's not Finn."

"And mine's not Shelly. Guess we're even."

He got in, buckled up, started the car, and pulled out into the street with Shelly on his six, as Gramps said. She offered to take him home, so he hadn't mentioned that his car was at the Washateria where he met Marshall for their date. No matter. He wanted to watch _her_ instead of the road anyway.

With men, he had a definite type, but when it came to women, weight, height, age, as long as they were legal, none of it mattered. The important thing was their personality. Oh, and the breasts. He didn't discriminate there either. Shelly's were, at a guess, a solid forty-two double D. By far the largest he'd had physical contact with in his adult life.

The smallest was when he'd just started at the university. A girl in his history and culture class had been assigned as his study partner, and one night, they'd mixed it up a little. Okay. They mixed it up a _lot_.

Because she was the daughter of a Japanese diplomat, when he found out she'd had sex, though not with whom, dear old dad had yanked her out of classes, and packed her off to Tokyo. There, he'd hired a body guard to preserve what was left of her honor. The joke had been on Dad though, when the body guard got her pregnant, and they were forced to marry.

Justin used the remote he found clipped to the visor to open the gate at Marshall's apartment complex, and pulled in with Shelly still behind him. He found the assigned space, parked, and had the passenger door open when she joined him. He handed her the keys. "Third floor. Apartment 317."

"Need help carrying him?" For an answer, Justin unbuckled Marshall's seatbelt, put his feet out, crouched, and threw him over his shoulder. "Guess not." She led the way up the stairs, stopping in front of 317. "This is it. Let's hope he doesn't have something embarrassing lying around, like his porn collection or a shrine to Boy George."

"Won't happen," Justin assured her as they entered the apartment and shut the door. "He hates Boy George." The entire apartment was neatly arranged, clean, and filled with worn, but serviceable furniture. He headed down the hall toward a closed door, and Shelly reached past to push it open. Bending his knees, Justin sat Marshall on the side of the bed, took off his jacket, and handed it to Shelly, who hung it over the chair in the corner.

As soon as Justin got his sweater off over his head, Marshall came awake. "You tryin' to take 'vantage o' me 'cause I'm drunk?" He laughed at his own witty one-liner.

"Helping you get into bed so you can sleep it off." He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, and pulled it up and off.

Marshall moaned, and tried to lie down, but Justin wouldn't let him. He looked at Shelly as if she were familiar, but couldn't place her. "Well, ****. I'm 'bout to be friend-zoned."

Confused, Justin glanced over his shoulder, and she explained, "When someone you wanna hook-up with says, 'I just want to be friends', they've put you into the friend-zone."

Justin motioned, and Shelly lent a hand, holding Marshall upright while he took off his shoes. "That a problem?"

His drunken friend grabbed the pajama top from the foot of the bed and tried to put it on, but kept missing the hole. "Nope. Only need one lover, but you can never have too many friends."

"He's right, you know." One hand helping Marshall, Shelly grabbed Justin's backside with the other. And when he shot her a mock glare, she smirked.

Marshall squinted at Shelly. "That my rival fer yer 'fections?"

He let Marshall fall back then picked him up, turned him, and laid his head on the pillow so he could take off his pants. Easier said than done because he kept wiggling, but he did it. "She's a friend. And like you said, we all need friends." Picking up one leg, he tried to put it into the pajamas, but Marshall wouldn't cooperate.

"Whoa! Wait! Gotta take off the," he winked, or tried to, "unmentionables."

Faster than either of them thought he could, Marshall had his boxers off, showing that he was in an advanced state of excitement. Shelly snickered. "Impressive family jewels you got there, Marshall."

He grinned proudly. "Why thank you, my dear. Don't s'pose you'd like to put 'em to work?"

Rolling his eyes, Justin turned him on his side so he could pull the pajamas up to his waist, laughing out loud at Shelly's riposte. "Oh, honey, that wouldn't be a good idea. It's never seen a lady's naughty bits, and I might scare it. And as drunk as you are, you wouldn't remember in the morning anyway."

Again, Marshall attempted to wink. "Saw me some lady's naughty bits a couplea weeks ago, 'cause ev'ry now and then I gotta go over to the dark side. You got a point 'bout mornin', though."

Laughing as he maneuvered the pants up to cover Marshall's parts, Justin remarked, "Let's put that thing away before you hurt someone."

Shelly lifted the covers while Justin put his friend's feet and legs under, and together they pulled the blanket and sheet up to Marshall's chest. By now, he was snoring softly.

On impulse, Justin held out his hand, and Shelly took it. At the door, he let go to take the door key off the ring and leave a note where Marshall could find it. After hiding the key, Shelly led him to her car. He held her door, and went around to claim shotgun. Turning sideways, he watched her profile the entire ride. If it bothered her, she didn't say.

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

The door to Justin's apartment had barely closed when Shelly was all over him, and he returned the favor. They left a trail of clothes down the hall to his bedroom. One small sliver of coherency remained so that he remembered to leave the door ajar in case Dexter cried. Then they were on the bed, so wrapped up in each other that not even the ringing of his phone penetrated the veil of arousal.

The ringing stopped, and started again a few minutes later. It lay on the hallway floor, unnoticed by either of the occupants.

…and he didn't have to sleep alone.

 **TBC**

 _Dancing in the Street_ is a song written by Marvin Gaye, William "Mickey" Stevenson and Ivy Jo Hunter. It was released in July 1964, recorded by Martha and the Vandellas.


	96. Chapter 96

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 96**

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **After Midnight**

Unlike the previous nights, Natasha's dreams were pleasant. Idyllic visions of her life out of order.

Her first face to face meeting with the legendary Hawkeye. Of course, she hadn't known it was him at the time. Their eyes met, and they knew each other. Not their real names, country of origin, or what side they were on, but inside where they kept their real selves hidden even from those closest to them.

Their next encounter had been almost a year later in Madrid when they'd ended up on the same rooftop in the middle of the night. They'd both chosen the same vantage point from which to watch their marks.

They'd finished at the same time, giving each other a wide berth out of professional courtesy, taking different routes down to the ground floor. As she stepped out into the open, she'd heard his footsteps behind her, knowing it was just a coincidence, and he wasn't following her.

At the corner where she would go one way and Clint the other, they had given each other a nod, but before they could go their separate ways, sirens split the air.

" _Policía_. _De esta manera._ " He motioned for her to go with him. But what he couldn't hear was that there were several on foot. Instead of following him, she dragged him into the recessed doorway of a long-closed storefront, pushed him against the door, and kissed him. When the police had passed, they parted. The strange thing about that kiss, well, two things. One, it had felt like she was kissing her brother, and two, after the first shock of finding himself being kissed by a relative stranger, he hadn't responded. Oh, he'd gone through the motions, but that was all.

It was much later, after she'd joined SHIELD, that she found out he had a wife and young son at home.

The dream skipped forward to when he first introduced her to Laura and toddler Cooper.

Something nudged her out of the dream cycle, a sound or touch, or even one of the cats getting on the bed. Then soon, she was back in the past. This time it was the night Clint had been sent to assassinate her. As he often said, he made a different call. If he'd followed orders that night, one or the other of them would be dead, and she wouldn't have the one thing she'd longed for since the day her parents died: a loving family.

Natasha drifted back and forth through pleasant memories for the remainder of the night and in the morning, she awoke with a smile that turned into a scowl of determination when she remembered that Novacek was in town. Whatever the man had going would come out when she and Bucky went to their meeting the next day. Today would be spent talking to the family, letting them in on the circumstances of the adoption, and how it was achieved so quickly.

Tiptoeing from the room so she wouldn't wake Bucky, Natasha gathered her clothes and went downstairs to get dressed, and to prepare for the family meeting.

Nearly an hour later, Bucky came, and sat next to her on the sofa, watching her work on the laptop. "What're you doing?"

"Preparing materials for the meeting."

He looked over her shoulder. "A PowerPoint presentation? You're treating this like one of your missions."

Giving him a quick side-eye, she went back to work. "Oh, it's a mission alright. We need to know what's going on, the real reason Novacek is here, and I'm making it _my_ mission to find out."

"You can't wait for him to tell us?"

"No. He's trying to take our children, and I refuse to give them up without a fight."

Bucky got to his feet, holding up both hands in surrender. "You preacher, me choir, my love. But there are other ways to go about this."

She picked up her coffee cup and went into the kitchen with Bucky on her heels. "You're right. However, kidnapping and torture to get the information we want is frowned upon by the US government. Officially."

He took the cup from her hand, set it on the counter, and held her against his chest, stroking her hair. "Too bad the kids aren't of legal age. Then they could choose to stay with us, and tell Novacek to go f…"

The cats came running into the kitchen, taking their places at the feeding station, followed a moment later by the twins, both looking as if they hadn't slept. The four of them looked at each other for a while then the kids came into the kitchen.

Wanda crossed her arms, taking a small step forward so that Pietro appeared to be her second-in-command, standing just behind and to her left. "We will make breakfast while you relax."

Natasha made a small attempt at protesting. She needed something to keep her mind and hands busy now that the other work was done, but she was overridden by Bucky, who took her hand and pulled her from the room.

~~O~~

As soon as their parents were gone, Pietro sent her a ping. * _We can only cook a few things. None of them are breakfast_.*

Wanda smiled slyly. ** _I can make omelets, but don't worry. I have a plan_.** She opened the refrigerator and took out a casserole dish covered with foil. ** _We did not have the exact ingredients for this recipe, so I called Clint, and asked what to do_.**

* _He did not mind that you called in the middle of the night?_ *

She tied an apron around her waist, and set the temperature on the oven. ** _Washington is three hours behind us, so it was still relatively early, and Clint is what they call a night owl._ ** Taking a bag of English muffins from the bread box, she handed them to her brother, speaking out loud this time. "Open this, and cut six in half. Two each for you and James, and one each for Natasha and I."

He took her orders in stride, or so she thought. When done, Pietro bowed low. "Anything else, your royal breakfast queen?"

"Go set the table in the dining room. Then you can take the butter and preserves, while I make more coffee."

"As you wish." Pietro gathered plates, silverware, and napkins, and went into the dining room. He was back shortly, looking uncomfortable. "They are on the sofa making out."

Wanda snickered. "I know. Just make sure they hear you coming, if you have to go in there."

The coffee maker gurgled while Pietro got out cups. "I do not remember Mother and Father being so…"

"Lovey-dovey?" She opened the oven to check the food. "They loved each other very much, but did not, what is it called? Ah! They did not care for public displays of affection beyond holding hands."

"It has been difficult to get used to, this hugging, holding hands, and kissing on the cheek."

The verbal conversation was used to cover the one inside their heads.

** _Von Strucker and List have to be behind this attempt to take us back to Sokovia. It couldn't be anyone else_. ** Sensing an eye roll from Pietro, Wanda chose to ignore it while readying the oven mitts and the folded towel on which to sit the hot pan when it came out of the oven.

* _Are we going to have this conversation_ _again_ _? I agree with you. What can we do about it?_ *

** _You heard James. If they knew we were of legal age, we could stay because we_ _want_ _to. And because we are here legally, the government could not deport us_.**

Pietro had taken the large folded towel to the table while they continued their telepathic conversation. * _Why would von Strucker be doing this? Has he discovered that our powers are greater than we led him to believe? When we left, he still had several promising subjects for his experiments._ *

** _It is possible that the ones he was putting his faith in have not acquired the powers that would aid in his quest to rebuild HYDRA, or they did not survive the process._ **

* _Of those that remained, they were quite excited over the man called Jasper._ * Wanda added a quick ping to her brother, telling him to toast the muffins.

He pulled the toaster over, dropped four of the English muffin halves into the slots and pushed the handle down. ** _Yes. It is sad to know that his well-ordered mind will be taken over by evil men, and used to reshape the world to their vision._ **

* _We must stop them. But how? To influence them, I would have to be in Sokovia, or at the very least Austria or the Czech Republic where they are near Novi Grad, not a half-world away._ *

Pietro held Wanda close. ** _We will think of something._ **

She nudged him away. * _Go feed the cats while I look on the Internet for something to make for the meeting today._ * Out loud, his sister said, "You should make something for the meeting. It's your turn."

"I excel at ordering out."

Wanda shook her head. "This is for the family. The food should be made at home."

"Hmph. I hope they like peanut butter sandwiches."

~~O~~

Holding Natasha close so it looked like they were kissing, Bucky whispered, "Are they gone?"

Keeping her voice low as well, she answered, "Yes. As long as they think we're making out, they'll stay in the kitchen."

"Or we could go upstairs and stay there until they stop looking for us." Her silent laughter vibrated against his chest. "You're right. Too obvious. We need somewhere to hide they can't find us."

"And _you're_ avoiding the issue."

Keeping his arm around her shoulders, Bucky huffed. "No. I'm in denial because I don't want to talk about it."

Her hand touched his neck so tenderly, he wanted this fake make-out to be real, but they had urgent issues to discuss. "I know, but we have to. If HYDRA is behind this then it only stands to reason that they are either trying to get you and Justin back, and taking the kids is a ransom move."

"Or…"

"Or HYDRA was involved in creating their powers. They escaped, ran away, whatever. Somehow, they found out where they are, and this is a bid to get them back. We never asked how it happened. If they were born with their powers, were given them, with or without their permission, or were exposed to something that allowed them to manifest."

Bucky's hand dropped to Natasha's hip, smoothing over the curves. "I didn't ask because I thought _you_ would. Not that it matters."

"No, it doesn't. They're ours, and we'll fight to the death to keep them." Natasha grabbed his head, and kissed him hard. He knew why, because he heard Pietro in the dining room, and smelled the food cooking, but being a man, and her husband, he took full advantage.

" _James! Natasha! Time to eat!_ "

Pietro's voice from the other room put a damper on their ardor, but only for now. They'd get back to it eventually. Bucky shared a grin with Natasha, and called out, "Okay! We're gonna wash up first!"

Natasha stood, and smoothed her hands over her top and pants. "We didn't fool them a bit."

"Yeah. I know." He wiggled his eyebrows. "But it was fun while it lasted."

"We need to start asking harder questions."

Bucky opened the downstairs bathroom door so they could wash their hands side by side. "What if they won't tell us what we want to know?"

Natasha handed him a towel, which they shared to dry their hands. "We could guilt them into it. Make them think it's their idea."

"Wanda would know." He looked around furtively. "If she doesn't already." His wife gave him a playful shove as they reached the dining room, and seated themselves. Bucky took the napkin from under the silverware and spread it over his lap. "Smells good, baby girl."

Their daughter accepted the praise with a shy smile. "Thank you. I found the recipe online, and called Clint for help because I wanted to surprise you."

"Um," they all looked at Pietro, "I helped."

His sister scoffed. "He toasted the muffins, and set the table."

Reaching across the table to table the boy's hand so they could say grace, Natasha gave them both a half-grin. "That's called helping, _moya doch'_."

They completed the circle, bowed their heads, and Bucky said grace. "Heavenly Father…"

 **Justin's Apartment**

The alarm blared, jolting Justin out of a dreamless sleep. He shut the thing off, and sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. At some point during the night, he'd put on his pajamas, which was odd, because he normally slept naked when he entertained an overnight guest.

On the way to the living room, he stopped to empty his bladder and splash water on his face. He dried off on his way to the kitchen accompanied by Dexter's hungry mews. When he got up during the night to feed him, Shelly had still been here. She awoke when he came back to bed, and they had enjoyed each other again before falling asleep in each other's arms.

The sliver of guilt Justin experienced the night before came back, but not for the same reason. He didn't consider that he was cheating on Rey. Not when they weren't together.

This time, the guilt stemmed from his remembrance of the past. How after a bad break-up, he would engage in sexual escapades, or sexcapades as Chase called them, in order to assure himself he was still desirable to men, and to women. He didn't have sex indiscriminately, and he always took precautions. The difference this time is he realized immediately that what he was doing could become destructive, not only to his relationship with Rey, but to his own peace of mind. He had to put a stop to it before things got out of hand.

"Progress. Yay," he said to the walls with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

Dexter squeaked, his sharp claws scrabbling on the side of the box where he'd pulled the blanket away trying to climb out. The last day or so, the kitten wasn't as comforted by the heated bear as he had been in the beginning. He needed real cats and kittens to associate with, or he'd grow up to be anti-social or, as Olivia said, he wouldn't know how to "cat".

Dragging his feet, Justin got a bottle out of the 'fridge, and nuked it in the microwave. He tested the temperature, and sat down on the floor next to Dexter's playpen. Scooping the little guy up in one hand, he held him up to eye level. "How'd you like to meet the rest of the family, little dude?"

Claws scratched the air, wiggling his entire body, and trying his best to get at the bottle he could smell just a few inches away. Justin gave in, holding him on his lap. Dexter latched onto the nipple, his ears wiggling, and eyes closed in ecstasy.

Once Dexter was back in his pen, Justin went into the bedroom for clean clothes, hoping to see some sign that Shelly had been here. An earring, a note, a pair of pink satin panties laying in a shiny puddle next to the bed. But there was nothing. He hadn't even heard her leave. That was their agreement.

He knew that her smell would be in his sheets, so he sprayed them with fabric refresher to remove her scent, yanked the linens off the bed, and stuffed them in the bottom of the laundry basket. Starting now, he made a vow that the only company he would have in his home would be Dexter and family. No one else. Not even Rey until he achieved his goal of independence.

Taking clean towels from the hall closet, Justin went to get a shower. When he came out, he dressed casually, filled a bag with everything he would need to take care of Dexter, covered the playpen with a blanket, and walked to the Washateria where he'd left his car. Soon, they were on the way to Gramps' house, and he couldn't wait to show off his new companion.

 **The Home of Harry** **Deveraux**

Rey rolled out of bed to the smell of coffee and breakfast. She was alone. A pair of pajamas lay on the chair in the corner, a pair of slippers with them. The room was chilly, one of the things she and Harry couldn't agree on when they were together. She rushed to get dressed, and went into the bathroom to freshen up. After running a comb through her hair, she found her purse, and put on a small amount of gloss to combat dry lips.

Standing at the entrance to the living room that led to the kitchen, Rey suddenly felt uncertain. Never in her life had she used an ex to help her feel better about seeing another ex while they were on a break.

Harry came into sight, carrying a cup of hot coffee, only wearing pajama bottoms, his firmly muscled chest flexing as he moved. He had a great body, and his skin, much darker than hers due to his multi-racial background, always felt warm, even when the temperature dropped. She reminded him of Taye Diggs in his _Ally McBeal_ day. He had a scattering of dark curly hairs around his flat nipples, and just above his navel. When they were together, she'd spent a great deal of time toying with those hairs. Rey's eyes met his when he extended the cup for her to take. She looked away, and took a sip.

"Don't feel guilty for using me, Minx."

As always, Rey got a small shimmy of delight at hearing his voice. He could read from the phone book and make it sound like porn. "I'm not. Well, maybe a little." Harry left that hand in the air palm up, and she took it, letting him lead her to the breakfast nook in the kitchen. She slid into her seat while he carried over two plates of food. French toast with sausage. Her favorite. "It's just that every time we do this, I wish things had worked out for us. That we'd gone ahead with the wedding, taken our honeymoon in Cancun, and settled down to a boring daily routine of breakfast together, working all day, walking the dog, snuggling in front of the television, and date night every Saturday."

He swallowed, and reached for his coffee cup before answering. "So do I, but then we'd be divorced by now. In my mind, it was a case of breaking our hearts then or waiting a few years when it would be so much worse." He took a sip of coffee, and set the cup down. "Then there's the fact that you called me by another man's name in your sleep last night."

Mortified, Rey blushed to the roots of her hair, using the napkin to cover her face. "Oh, my God. Seriously?"

The tone of his voice said that he was amused instead of angry. "Always, with you. So, how long have you known Justin?"

"Couple of years. He's Chase's fraternal twin." Rey cut a piece of French toast, and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly, while she decided how much to tell him. "Chase and I knew each other a couple of years before he introduced us." She didn't think a small lie would hurt. "A little over a month after we started dating, he left the country, and was gone for more than two years."

"Where did he go?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't like to talk about it." That, at least, was the truth. "Russia, I think."

The mood had dampened, and Harry, bless him, bolstered her spirits by taking her hand. "He must be the one then because the only other name you've uttered in your sleep was Cleopatra's. And mine, of course."

That did it. Rey laughed, and immediately felt better. He pushed the cinnamon toward her so she could add more. "Eat up, Minx. After we shower, I'll take you home so you can change so we can go for a stroll on the boardwalk, and get hot chocolate at that little coffee shop over on twelfth."

"Oh, I haven't been there in years."

Harry wiped his mouth, and leaned back in his chair. "Why not?"

One shoulder shrugged. "It was our place, and for a long time, I didn't want to go there without you. Then I just stopped thinking about it." She finished the last bite, wiped her mouth, and stood with their dishes in both hands. As she passed Harry, he pulled her into his lap, making her yelp. "You're gonna make me drop them, Harry."

"You're more important than mere possessions, Minx." She giggled when he nibbled on her ear, causing all the old feelings to come back again.

The dishes hit the table with a clunk. They kissed, and soon they were back in the bedroom under the covers.

 **Chase's Condo**

When Chase awoke, Iris was gone. He found a note on the nightstand propped against the lamp, telling him she had an early PT session, and she'd see him at work. But Chase wasn't certain he'd make it today. It all depended on the subject of the family meeting. The last time anyone had used 9-1-1 had been when Justin disappeared.

It was late. He had just enough time to shower, dress, and stop at the store for something to bring. Chips and dip, probably. And drinks.

Before long, he was pulling into the parking lot of a gourmet food store. A 9-1-1 meeting deserved the best. Forty minutes later, Chase parked across from Gramps and Natasha's house because nearly everyone else had already arrived.

He let himself in, going straight to the kitchen where he knew his mom would be. "Hey, Mom."

She presented her cheek for a kiss. "Chase, honey, do you know if Justin's coming?"

"Haven't talked to him in a few days. Don't worry though. He wouldn't miss something so important."

~~O~~

When Chase said almost word for word the same thing as his father, Carolyn wanted to believe, and she did. Really. But ever since she arrived, the atmosphere had been tense, getting under her skin like itching powder. The twins and her father were on edge. Natasha was the only one who appeared unaffected by whatever was going on, but then, that was her way. Carolyn had come to accept that her step-mother had a tighter hold on her emotions than the average person. Just like she'd accepted that Natasha had a job she couldn't talk about. Whatever it was, she had connections that reached high in the government if she and Dad could adopt the twins within a couple of weeks of filling out the application.

The front door opened, and Gracie could be heard greeting Justin. The girl let out a squeal of excitement, drawing Carolyn's interest. She wiped her hands on a towel as she went through to the living room.

Justin was on the floor with Mia, Gracie, Wanda, Dad, and Chase all gathered around a box. She peered over their shoulders, and to her surprise, Justin had brought a tiny kitten with him. Listening in on their conversation, she found out that he'd rescued the small animal when its mother and siblings died, and had been hand-rearing it ever since.

He saw her, and smiled. Carolyn knelt down next him as he carefully picked up the creature so she could see it better. It was tiger striped all over with white feet and whiskers. The fur was fluffy, and would be long and thick.

"Mom, this is Dexter." The kitten blinked at her with wide, innocent eyes, head slightly tilted, and she was smitten.

"Another grandchild?" She chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for."

He held Dexter out. "Wanna hold him? He doesn't bite. Mostly 'cause he only has a few teeth."

Gracie was bouncing on her knees. "Can I help feed him later?"

Justin wrinkled his nose at her. "Of course you can help." He handed Gracie a small duffle bag. "Put his bottles in the 'fridge for me."

The girl ran off, and came right back, taking a seat between her and Justin. "Aunt Carolyn, would you help me make my Halloween costume?"

Carolyn hugged the girl to her. "You bet. What do you want to be?"

"It's a secret. Not even Mommy knows."

"You can tell me all about it later then. We should get started right away though, because Halloween is only a few weeks away."

Chase jumped up, and slapped Justin, motioning for him to follow. "That reminds me, bro. I got an idea for a group costume."

His twin put Dexter back in the box, and stood. "Let me put him somewhere no one will bother him, and we can talk."

"Cool. Oh, we'll need Uncle Pietro, too."

Shaking her head, Carolyn returned to the kitchen to check the food in the oven. _Those boys will_ _never_ _grow up… Thank God_.

~~O~~

Listening to the voices of her family, Natasha was still undecided what to wear. For most missions, she suited up at some point, but his was family, not the Avengers. She put the garment bag with the Black Widow jumpsuit back in the closet. They had to know she was serious, but she also wanted to be comfortable.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she examined her image with a critical eye. Everything looked the same as it always did. Hair, skin, nails, shape. She just didn't feel like herself, and if asked, she wouldn't be able to point to any one thing. She hadn't been sick since she was a child. The occasional bout of nausea usually brought on by Clint hot-dogging was all. She'd nearly thrown up after getting off an amusement park ride he and his kids convinced her to try. _You shouldn't have had that second hot dog_.

She went into the closet, and came out with jeans, a black long sleeved lightweight sweater, and ankle high boots. As she changed, an odd feeling came over her. It only lasted a few moments then she finished dressing, brushed her hair, touched up her make-up, and smoothed shade of red over her lips that would keep everyone focused on her and not their phones.

James had put the cats in their room that gave them access to the catio, yet still let them see what was going on in the house so they wouldn't feel left out. As Natasha came down the stairs, she saw them perched on the cat trees watching the mass of people who'd invaded their home.

Natasha tugged the sweater down over her hips, and marched into the living room. With just her presence, she brought order to chaos, and soon, everyone was sitting down, and the talking had stopped.

She picked up the remote, and turned on the plasma screen. Bucky had taken his place by the laptop where the materials for the meeting were already cued up. "Thanks for coming. Rest assured that James and I would not have asked you to change your plans without good reason."

The lights dimmed, and a photo of a man in his late fifties appeared on the screen. "This is the man who helped James and I adopt Wanda and Pietro. His name is Lazlo Novacek, head of the adoption agency in Sokovia." The picture changed to one of the same man getting off of a plane at Ronald Regan Washington National Airport. "Two nights ago, we received a call from him stating that he's going to take Wanda and Pietro away from us. That the adoption had been completed in error" She met every stunned glance with her best death glare. "That is _not_ going to happen."

 **TBC**


	97. Chapter 97

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 97**

Steve already had the video chat set up, and Joi was anxiously awaiting the meeting to start. With so many around, they couldn't talk privately, and so kept chatter between them to a minimum. He set the tablet on the table near Bucky so Joi could see Natasha's presentation. Knowing her as he did, he wasn't surprised that she was treating this like a pre-mission briefing.

Holding his phone in one hand in case he got the call he was waiting for, Steve did his best to absorb what Natasha was saying. What it came down to was the same man who'd sponsored the twins' adoption now wanted to take them away.

"…What we need are volunteers to help keep an eye on Novacek while he's here, starting when the meeting's over, and we've all eaten."

The looks on Natasha, Bucky's, and the twins' faces was pure awe when every hand went up, including Gracie's.

Nicole put her daughter's hand down. "Not you, Munchkin. You're only seven."

The girl crossed her arms, giving her mother one of those looks that said she was stating the obvious. "Duh-uh, Mom. That's why _I_ should go with Papa and Tasha. No one would _ever_ suspect I'm a spy, 'cause I'm just a kid."

Everyone laughed when Nicole responded, "You are many things, Grace Constance, but you are _not_ just a kid."

Steve had to admit Gracie had a point, and was about to say so when Joi spoke up. " _Steve, pick me up so I can see everyone_." He did as she asked, moving the tablet from side to side so they could see that her hand was up as well. " _Too bad you can't wait until I get home tomorrow_."

Carolyn scowled, something she did quite a bit. "You're not a spy, either, Esmeralda Joi. In fact, none of us are cops _or_ spies. How're we going to do this without getting caught?"

Natasha raised her hand. "Um, I'm a spy. Freelance now that SHIELD is off the grid."

Bucky's oldest daughter gapped at them for several seconds, finally deciding they were telling the truth. "And you knew about this when you and Natasha started dating, Dad?"

He looked embarrassed, but just for a moment. "Yeah. I told her I thought it was cool."

Reluctantly, Steve held up a hand. "Technically, I guess I'm a spy too, since I used to work for SHIELD, and I've been on undercover ops."

Movement over by the catio drew everyone's attention as Justin stood up, and leaned both hands on the piano. "Shit! Didn't want it come out like this, but what the hell." He pointed at himself. "Spy. Undercover, of course."

"What?!" The word burst out of Carolyn as she grabbed Martin's hand. "But how…"

The young man looked down at the top of the piano. "Where do you think I _was_ for two years, Mom? On a submarine under the polar ice cap entertaining the crew? No. I was in Russia, undercover. The details wouldn't mean anything to anyone but Nat and Steve, so…" He shrugged again.

Again, Carolyn protested. "But you don't speak Russian."

Justin turned to Natasha. " _Maya sem'ya - maya sila i maya slabost'_."

Most of the group looked confused, and the only word Steve understood was "family".

Carolyn looked at Natasha accusingly, as if she'd been involved in the events that had taken Justin away from her. "What did he say?"

Natasha smiled affectionately, giving his hand a squeeze. "He said, 'My family is my strength _and_ my weakness'."

Chase went to stand with his brother in a show of solidarity. "Not a spy, but I can hack his phone, as long as I'm close enough."

When Mia stood, Jacob did too. "Mia, no. We agreed."

The young woman shook her head. "Can't keep it a secret forever, Dad."

Voices were raised as those who had no knowledge of Mia's powers wanted to know what they were talking about. Mia opened her mouth, and closed it again when Pietro spoke up.

"Wanda and I have a secret too."

His sister crossed her arms, meeting Natasha's and Bucky's eyes in turn. "We should tell them. They're family."

Natasha held Bucky's hand, and together they nodded, Bucky speaking for both of them. "If that's what you want, let's do it."

 **The Rachel Michalski Home**

"Alice!"

The girl called out, "In my room!"

Rachel opened the door to controlled chaos. Clothes were folded and stacked in piles on the bed, while toys, books, and games were neatly arranged on the floor, again in groups. "What's going on?"

Alice finished carefully and precisely folding a pink sweater with yellow and blue flowers. It was somewhat old fashioned, with pearl buttons down the front, but she loved it. For a moment, she seemed undecided then abruptly chose a stack. "I'm sorting my clothes and toys."

"Why?"

"So, when I move into Steve's house, I won't have so much stuff to take with me."

Rachel put an arm around Alice's shoulders. "We don't know for sure that you'll be staying with Steve and his wife. And if you do, they won't care how much you bring with you."

The girl stepped out of the embrace. She picked up a stack of clothes, and set them in a box, doing the same with several others. "I know. He's nice, and his wife will be nice too 'cause he wouldn't marry her if she wasn't. But there are other kids in foster homes who don't have as much as me, and I want to share."

Alice had always taken care of her things, so the clothes, toys, books and games were all in good condition. "That's sweet of you. How about if I help?"

"Okay." Alice handed her a box, and pointed to stacks of toys close to the closet. "Those go in here." On the side of the box, she'd written, "Toys and games to give away".

She added more clothes to those already in the box at her feet. Rachel didn't want to bring it up, but Alice had to be prepared just in case their application wasn't accepted. "Have you thought about what would happen if Steve and Joi are turned down as your foster parents?"

Her blonde hair fluttered as she moved. "They _won't_ be. I know they won't."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself."

Alice's chin came up in defiance. "Because I've prayed every night, and you said that God answers all prayers, right?"

Rachel took Alice's hand. "Yes, He does, Alice."

"And you said that sometimes the answer is no. But it won't be." Alice told her with absolute certainty. "You'll see."

Over her head, Rachel saw something she hadn't seen before. It was a picture of Steve Rogers in his Captain America costume. Alice knew how to use the computer, and had printed it off the Internet. Next to Steve, she'd drawn a woman with shoulder length hair, kind eyes, and a wide smile. The woman wore a Superman-type costume with a big M on the front, and a cape that hung to her knees. In front of the couple, she'd drawn a good likeness of herself similarly dressed, fists jammed on her hips, and feet shoulder-width apart. Across the top, she'd written, "My super mom and dad".

 _I hope she's right_ , Rachel thought as she filled another box.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Medical Unit**

The doctor cued up the video, projected onto the main monitor on the wall. "We performed a routine psychogenic unresponsiveness test, and the results were startling, to say the least. On the left is the test from three months ago with today's on the right. Given the lack of reaction to pain stimuli, as well as the results of blood work, MRIs, and EEG scans when she first arrived, the prognosis, as you know, was grim at best."

"And now?"

"Now, well," the doctor flipped through the battery of tests done just that morning, "we're a little more hopeful. Ms. Potts reacted to pain stimulus, and moved her index finger a quarter of an inch _voluntarily_."

Concerned that they were hurting Pepper, Tony crossed his arms. "What sort of pain stimulation are we talking here?"

"Oh, nothing that would harm her physically, Mr. Stark. Were she awake, she'd be mildly annoyed. Nothing more." Tony waited, and the doctor relented. "We pinched her earlobe."

Taken aback, Tony stared at the doctor, covering his thoughts on the man's sanity. He didn't hide it as well as he assumed because the doctor huffed, and struck so quickly, he didn't have a chance to stop him. The man grabbed his left earlobe, and pinched, digging his nail in slightly.

Tony moved away, a hand going to his ear. "Ow!"

"It's the simplest way to test pain reaction, much the same way doctors use a tongue depressor to test the gag reflex of children."

"Okay, I get it. Don't do it again. To me, I mean."

The man, of Indian extraction, born and raised in New York, smiled. "It was only a demonstration, Mr. Stark."

"What about the finger thing?"

The doctor pointed a finger at the ceiling. "Ah, now that is where we're seeing the most progress. The nurses and technicians often talk to Ms. Potts while they're working, as if she were able to understand. In response to a question, she moved her finger. And before you ask, we tested her, to be certain it wasn't just a muscle twitch, instructing her to move various parts of her body. As of," he looked at his watch, "thirty minutes ago, she also moved the big toe of her left foot. And once, she took a deep breath on her own, the action was apparently due to the stethoscope being pressed to her chest."

Though he tried not to build his hopes up, Tony's excitement level edged upward a fraction of an inch. "What if we were to try the TLV tank again?"

With a smug half-grin, the doctor switched to a live video feed showing several technicians wearing white jumpsuits. They were in the process of constructing a large tank surrounded by controls with multiple redundancies that would ensure the system kept running even if there were another electrical outage like the Northeast Blackout of August 2003. That power outage left parts of the Northeastern and Midwestern US, and the province of Ontario in darkness for nearly two days, affecting approximately 55 million people. "It will be ready for testing in a few days. If you'd like to be involved, the foreman can give you a heads-up when it's ready."

"You do that." Out in the hall, Tony looked left and right. Not furtively, as if he were sneaking around. This was his way of making a decision. Instead of returning to the lab, he took the stairs down to the next floor where the techs were working on the TLV tank, and let himself in. "Afternoon, boys and girls. I'm here to help. Put me to work."

 **Fiesta Hotel**

As hotels went, this one was hardly five-star. If asked, most would give it no more than one, with the occasional two due to its convenient location. There was no turn-down service, no mints on the pillows at night, and no free paper in the mornings. You could still get an iron and board from housekeeping, at a cost of ten dollars for your entire stay.

Room service was available from five in the morning until nine at night with a limited menu, and the minibar was locked. In order to access it, you had to contact the front desk, and have the key sent up. The desk clerk would then inform housekeeping to add the missing items to your bill. One reason a credit card was required at the time of check-in, even if you intended on paying cash at the end of your stay.

Lazlo Novacek didn't care about the sparse amenities. He'd chosen the hotel for the room price, and easy access to the highway that led to the meeting he had scheduled for later today.

He stepped out the front door, and immediately felt he was being watched. Dismissing it as his imagination, he looked up when a man called his name.

"Mr. Novacek? I'm Bob with the car rental agency." The man standing next to a non-descript four-door sedan, a key dangling from his left hand. "I've activated the GPS system. All you have to do is program in the address, and you're good to go."

Novacek gave the young man a small tip, not noticing that the skin around Bob's eyes tightened in annoyance. Bob walked into the hotel, and disappeared. Once he was gone, Novacek got behind the wheel, buckled his seatbelt, moved the seat forward, and pulled into traffic. When he was nearly a mile away, he turned into the parking lot of a pharmacy, and took a scrap of paper from his inside breast pocket. He programmed the address into the GPS, and followed the directions out of D.C. proper, into a less urban area.

In Sokovia, nearly everywhere he needed to go was within walking distance, or a car ride of no more than twenty minutes. So far, he'd been driving for nearly an hour and still wasn't at his destination. He didn't understand how Americans did this every morning, and again at night.

A sign came into view, filling him with relief that this part of his journey was nearly over.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Back Yard**

The family moved out into the back yard, taking seats on the edge of the deck, the patio chairs, standing or leaning against the walls as Mia, Pietro, and Wanda took center stage.

Mia stepped out in front. "Because I'm the oldest, I claim the right to go first." She looked at Bucky. "Which one, Gramps?"

He glanced around the yard and settled on a dead bush along the metal fence. Bucky had been meaning to dig it up, but too much had been going on, and gardening was given a lower priority.

She raised her right hand, curling the fingers as if holding a ball. All but those who'd already known about her ability gasped as a sphere of energy formed in her palm. Mia made a throwing motion, and the bush exploded.

Carolyn glared at her brother. He met her gaze without flinching. "My daughter. My choice, Car."

Standing next to his wife, Martin asked a question that had to be on everyone's minds. "How, uh, precisely can you manipulate this," he waved, not know what to call it.

"Electricity generation and manipulation?" Her uncle nodded helplessly. "Who has a cell phone that needs charging?"

Steven James came forward. "Was going to charge it in the car on the way home."

Mia smirked as she took the phone and held it so the battery compartment was facing up. She rubbed her fingers together, and pointed at the phone. A thin streak of electrical discharge that looked like a tiny bolt of lightning touched the case, and within a few seconds, the phone beeped. She handed it back to Steven James, whose eyes went wide when he looked at the screen, and held it up. "Fully charged! That's amazing, Mia."

The young woman held her hands out to the side, and bowed slightly. "All part of the awesomeness that is me."

Gracie pushed her way to the front. "What else can you do?"

Leaning down to look the girl in the eyes, she told her, "Pick a color."

Bucky could see the wheels turning in the little girl's eyes. "Orange, like an orange."

Mia closed her eyes to concentrate, and received another gasp from the audience when her blonde hair turned bright orange. Not to be outdone, Justin called out, "So what's your real hair color? Inquiring minds want to know."

Again, Mia's hair changed, this time to a shade of brown that was close to Jacob's. Within seconds, it was back to the blonde with which they were all familiar. "It's how I keep my hair this color without having to dye it every couple of months." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "That's it except for the usual Barnes genetic upgrades."

No one needed to enumerate the last. All of Bucky's progeny had increased strength, healing, and speed to some extent.

The twins glanced at Bucky and Natasha, standing close together in the middle. They gave them nods of encouragement to get them moving. At the edge of the deck, they looked at each other, and Wanda motioned for Pietro to go first.

"I'm told that my power is described as increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. That means…"

Steven James, a grade school science teacher, interrupted him to say, "He heals quickly, and uses his physical energy more efficiently. This means he's…"

Suddenly, Pietro was standing next to his adopted brother. "…fast." The boy barely gave the family time to absorb this new information when he was gone again. He returned within seconds, startling all the women by putting a pink rose in their hands.

"Pietro…" Natasha's voice held a warning.

He surprised them all once more by appearing at her side, an arm around her shoulders, and a slip of paper in his hand. "Relax, _matushka_. I didn't steal them."

She gave him a side-eye with a smile, and took the receipt without looking at it, showing that she had faith in their son. He was gone again, and was now sitting with Gracie on his lap. As Wanda took her place in front of the group, for one of the few times since they'd met, Natasha's grip on his arm tightened to the point where it actually hurt. "Babe, you okay?"

Natasha looked up at him with a tight smile, the skin around her eyes slightly pinched. "Why do you ask?"

He pried her fingers loose, and simply held her hand. "You were cutting off the circulation in my arm."

"Sorry. Just worried about how the twins will be perceived now that everyone knows they have powers."

Her words didn't ring completely true. Yes, she was worried, but there was more to it than that. Bucky did what he always did, and let her tell him in her own time.

~~O~~

Wanda gave serious thought as to how to demonstrate her powers, and just how much to show them. She didn't want her family to be wary of her because she could read their minds and emotions. Best to downplay that aspect.

"I am empathic, which means I can sense emotions, but only if I concentrate on a specific person. If the emotion is strong enough, it gets through my mental barriers. I can sense the presence of others, again if I concentrate. It is draining mentally and physically, but sometimes, I am able to read a person's thoughts. Not their _exact_ thoughts, but I can get a sense of what they're thinking about. At the Labor Day party, before Justin revealed himself, his thoughts, the way his mind worked, felt familiar. I associated those thoughts with Chase, but did not know why."

She paced a few steps back and forth. "I can also move things with my mind. Would you like me to demonstrate?" The family all agreed. She not only heard it out loud, but in her head too.

Turning to face the field, she raised her arms to the side, and a breeze sprang up, rustling the trees. Everyone's attention was taken when the swing in the gazebo creaked as it moved. Wanda faced the family again, sending tendrils of the red mist swirling in and around each member. Mouths dropped open as she removed each person's cell phone from their pocket to hover in front of them. As they reached out, she sent the phones flying through the air to land on one of the tables, stacked like a house of cards.

Chase raised his hand. "How much can you lift?"

"I am not certain. Why?"

"Well, what if someone tried to tackle you? Could you stop them, even if they outweighed you by say fifty or sixty pounds?"

Almost too late, Wanda felt that Chase was distracting her. She turned, the psionic mist instinctively shooting from her hands, catching Justin in mid-air as he attempted to tackle her to the ground. He hovered three feet off the ground, arms outstretched to grab her. In his mind, she could see that he wouldn't have hurt her, but she already knew.

Her audience laughed at the odd spectacle Justin made. As if he no longer mattered, she turned her back, and with the merest flick of her wrist, released him. He landed face down in the grass with a hard thump, making them laugh harder.

Wanda used her powers to grab Steve's phone and return it to him. "You have a phone call, Steve."

~~O~~

Startled by her comment, Steve looked at the screen, and sure enough, he had an incoming call. Still carrying the tablet so Joi could see what was happening, he muttered, "Thanks."

With the phone to his ear, Steve went into the house for privacy. As soon as the door closed, he answered the person on the other end. "Yes, Rachel. I'm here… They said what? I see… Have you told Alice yet?"

~~O~~

The family stood around in small groups talking amongst themselves. Though everyone had volunteered to help, not all of them were capable of maintaining a false persona. To keep the peace, Natasha made her choices, and set the others as back-up just in case something came up for the first string.

Steve finally came back, his face unreadable, to most. To Natasha, he was an open book. His emotions flowed off of him like the scent of sweat on a hot afternoon, and before he opened his mouth, she knew that he'd not be joining them on this pseudo-mission.

She picked up her phone from the table, and went inside, with the others following. "Fiesta Hotel? I'd like to leave a message for Mr. Novacek in room 307… Eleven-thirty tomorrow morning, the Happy Things Tea Room inside the Sunny Peaks Resort… No name. He'll know who it's from."

With a satisfied smile, Natasha laid the phone on the table by the stairs, and when she looked up, the family was watching her expectantly. She clapped her hands. "So, who's hungry?"

 **Happy Things Tea Room**

 **Sunny Peaks Resort**

 **Noon-ish**

Now that his beard was growing back, Bucky felt less conspicuous. Rubbing his fingers in the prickly hair gave him an excuse to look at his watch again. In exactly twelve seconds, Novacek would be twenty-eight minutes and thirty seconds late. He jerked when Natasha kicked him under the table while pretending to be engrossed in her phone.

"Stop looking at your watch, James. He'll be here."

Holding in a huff, Bucky signaled for a fresh pot of tea. The server left, and returned. "What if he got lost, or his car broke down? I told you we should've done this closer to the city, and not out in Nowhere Land."

Seemingly unconcerned, she told him, "If anything had happened, we'd have heard by now, so relax."

Sitting across from Bucky, Gracie drank her pink tea, served in a special tea pot with a matching cup, and ate her mini grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. In between, she colored in her coloring book. Horatio sat in the chair to her right.

Two tables over, a man in his late twenties, wearing office attire, had a phone, a tablet _and_ a laptop, pecking at the keys while eating. His jacket hung over the back of the chair, and his tie had been flipped over his shoulder so he wouldn't get food on it.

Another man, a little older, with long hair, a beard, rumpled clothes that looked like he'd slept in them, not one night, but several, was shoveling food into his mouth like a jock after a tough workout. When the couple at the table next to him got up to go, he stole part of the tip while grabbing the newspaper. Looking around to make sure he didn't get caught, the man shoved the bills in his pants pocket, revealing a tattoo on his inner forearm. Leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, he used a fingernail to dig a piece of food from between his teeth then made a sucking noise.

A primly dressed woman sat in a corner where she could see the entire dining room, furtively watching the unkempt man by the window, and making notes in a cloth-covered book. Her mousy brown hair hung straight almost to her shoulders, and was partially covered by a ridiculous straw hat. She sipped her tea daintily, and nibbled on a variety of small pastries.

There were more people scattered around the room, and the servers padded quietly from here to there, serving the guests, cleaning and resetting tables, and restocking the supplies.

The one thing Bucky liked about this place, aside from the food, was that the décor wasn't too frilly. The chairs were comfortable, the tablecloths were in muted colors, solid with stripes on the edges, and no ruffles.

One of the servers crossed to the entrance, and a moment later, Novacek was standing next to their table, looking nervous. He extended his hand. "Good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes."

Bucky and Natasha ignored the offering, and didn't stand. Natasha dipped her chin slightly. "Have a seat, Mr. Novacek."

Gracie kneeled in her seat, and picked up Horatio. Novacek slid into the seat, setting a small briefcase on the floor beside him, and his phone on the table.

"Papa and Tasha don't like you." Startled that Gracie would talk so angrily to a stranger without being introduced, Novacek cleared his throat. As he was about to speak, the little girl put her elbow on the table, and stared at him without blinking. A trick she learned from Natasha. With Horatio tucked under her arm, Gracie got to her feet. "And if _they_ don't like you," she leaned in close, her voice taking on that dangerous tone that, again, had to have come from Natasha, "neither do _I_."

 **TBC**

Russian:

 _Maya sem'ya - maya sila i maya slabost'_. = My family is my strength and my weakness.

The TLV tank is a figment of the author's imagination, inspired by a Wikipedia article about total liquid ventilation:

Although total liquid ventilation (TLV) with completely liquid-filled lungs can be beneficial, the complex liquid-filled tube system required is a disadvantage compared to gas ventilation-the system must incorporate a membrane oxygenator, heater, and pumps to deliver to, and remove from the lungs tidal volume aliquots of conditioned perfluorocarbon (PFC).

One research group led by Thomas H. Shaffer has maintained that with the use of microprocessors and new technology, it is possible to maintain better control of respiratory variables such as liquid functional residual capacity and tidal volume during TLV than with gas ventilation. Consequently, the total liquid ventilation necessitates a dedicated liquid ventilator similar to a medical ventilator except that it uses a breathable liquid. Many prototypes are used for animal experimentation, but experts recommend continued development of a liquid ventilator toward clinical applications.

Specific preclinical liquid ventilator (Inolivent) is currently under joint development in Canada and France. The main application of this liquid ventilator is the ultra-fast induction of therapeutic hypothermia after cardiac arrest. This has been demonstrated to be more protective than slower cooling method after experimental cardiac arrest.

 _Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things_.

~ Chaim Potok


	98. Chapter 98

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 98**

Trying not to laugh at the look on Novacek's face when Gracie insulted him, stuck her nose in the air in a show of disdain, and stalked off, Chase waited until she was gone to get started on his phase of this operation. True, it wasn't a real mission, not in the sense that Natasha's usual missions were. This man was attempting to split them up, and no one messed with the Barnes family.

Dressed like an office drone, Chase used his fascination with electronic gadgets to hide that he was hacking Novacek's phone. It didn't take long to download the call history, which wasn't much due to it being a burner phone. He typed a few commands, and soon, he had the name, address and phone number of everyone that had called him, as well as those he'd called, all but one that came up as "blocked". It would take a little more time, but he'd come up with the name and number.

A few more taps, and the list went to Natasha's phone. Behind him, he heard the distinctive ring tone telling him she'd received his email, but to their guest, it would sound like a phone call.

"Excuse me, Mr. Novacek. I have to get this."

Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Chase acknowledged Gramps with the smallest nod.

Over by the window, the unkempt man, Justin in disguise, threw money on the table, drank the last of his tea, and left the dining room. His job was to place a tracking device on Novacek's rental so they could see where he went.

In a conversational tone, Bucky asked, "So how many people work in your office, Mr. Novacek?"

There was a pause in which Chase knew Novacek was wondering why Bucky was being nice to him when he'd come to take the kids away. "Just myself and my assistant. While I'm here, I've given her the week off."

That was Chase's cue. His next job was to download the videos for the last month from the office's cameras. Unfortunately, there were only two. One on the front door, and one on the back by the alley. He saved it all to an external hard drive. Out of curiosity, he opened one from the day Novacek had called Natasha and Bucky.

There was little traffic within the building. Mostly, Novacek and a woman who moved as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. There were others going in and out, some meeting with children, and others who seemed to be trying to sell something. All but one man, who apparently knew where the cameras were, because he never let himself be seen.

Then suddenly, there it was. The man's face reflected in the glass of a small conference room as he left the office. All Chase had to do was enlarge it, work a little computer magic to clear it up, and they'd have a face. And a face would give them a name.

While he worked, Chase listened with only part of his attention on the conversation Bucky was having with Novacek. Not once did he ask why the twins were being taken away. Mostly it was questions like had he ever been to the US before, how did he like D.C., did he have family in the US, how did he like his hotel, what was the weather like in Sokovia this time of year. Banal talk that didn't mean a thing.

~~O~~

Still pretending to write in the notebook, Mia watched the server go to Gramps' table. Novacek ordered tea and a bowl of the _soup du jour_ , cream of mushroom. She got the sense that he only ordered to get Gramps to shut up. Didn't work because instead of asking questions, Bucky was now telling a long-winded story of his Army days that had not one element of truth to it.

Novacek interrupted him. "I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Barnes, but where are the children?"

"Out in the garden with Gracie," Bucky grumbled. "They weren't hungry, as you can imagine." Bucky's phone rang. "The museum. I have to get this." And he was gone, leaving Novacek alone at last.

The relief on his face would've been comical at any other time. Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? It was funny now.

The server came with his soup and tea. Novacek took the napkin from under the silverware, and draped it over his lap. He sipped the tea, replaced the cup in the saucer, and used the soup spoon to stir the contents.

Gracie came back, standing next to her chair with Horatio under one arm, and the other leaning on the table, just staring at Novacek until he finally asked, "Where are Wanda and Pietro? I was told they were with you."

"Outside. _They_ don't like you either." Not once did the girl blink, and Mia wanted to laugh because she could see the man wanted to hide from the scrutiny, but stood his ground. Then, Gracie blinked quite deliberately, and lightly touched Novacek on the back of the hand. "Why are you really taking Wanda and Pietro away?"

Novacek looked down at the small hand on his, and slowly back to Gracie's face, swallowing convulsively. He made a few false starts before responding. Chase was close enough to record what he was saying so they could play it back for Natasha and Gramps.

"A man came to my office with papers showing that he is the twins' last remaining relative, a long-lost uncle. He had lost touch with their parents many years ago, and just last week was informed of their death. He and his wife wish to give the children a home with them in Switzerland."

The girl's fingers tightened fractionally as she leaned forward, peering into Novacek's eyes. "I don't believe you, and neither will Papa and Tasha."

His breathing sped up, coming in strange little gasps on the exhale. He reached into his briefcase and brought out an envelope. "I have copies of the documents, signed by the Novi Grad magistrate. They are fakes created by Dr. Wolfgang von Strucker to get the children back."

He laid the envelope on the table. The moment Gracie let go of him, Novacek sagged in relief. Then, as if nothing odd had happened, he went back to eating. Gracie picked up the envelope, and carried it to Chase. As he read them over, his forehead crinkled in puzzlement. He had to be wondering the same thing as Mia: who the hell was this von Strucker, and why would he want the twins? Chase used a portable scanner on the pages, replaced them in the envelope, and told Gracie to place them back into the briefcase. She did so, and zipped it closed.

Novacek reached for his tea, and Gracie again touched his hand. "You're done eating. Pay for your food, and go back to where you're staying." She stepped back, her hand joining the other in hugging Horatio against her chest.

As if it were his idea, Novacek wiped his mouth, and signaled for the server. He paid the check with cash, picked up his briefcase, and left the restaurant.

Gracie watched him go, then got in her seat, and took a bite of the pickle that had come with her sandwiches. The server brought her more pink tea, and took away Novacek's dishes just as Natasha and Bucky returned.

Stunned, Mia wasn't quite sure what she'd just witnessed. Gracie had never manifested a power before. Yet somehow, she had compelled Novacek to give her information that he wouldn't have shared with anyone else. He told her the lie, and followed it up with the truth. But who was von Strucker? Would Natasha know the name?

She exchanged shrugs with Chase, who was also at a loss. On the upside, they now had copies of the documents, and her computer geek cousin could use his skills to ascertain their provenance. Mia laughed at herself. _I sound like Steven James!_

 **Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport**

 **Arlington, Virginia**

All through the flight, Joi had waited and hoped for a text or email from Steve with good news about their fostering of Alice, but not a word. If he was helping out Natasha and Gramps, that would explain the lack of response to her increasingly frantic texts.

Because this was a special occasion, she mentally crossed her fingers, Joi had booked a first-class seat, just so she could be the first one off the plane when it reached the gate. She pulled down her carry-on, extended the handle, and followed the other first-class passengers down the walkway to the arrival area.

Her eyes scanned the area, and found Steve's smiling face holding up a hand-lettered sign: Welcome home, Joi! The I was dotted with a heart that matched the dot under the exclamation point.

Curiously, her husband was talking to himself, his smile growing the closer she got. She dropped her bag as he gathered her into his warm embrace, and kissed her.

He pulled back before she was ready, smiling excitedly. "Got a surprise for you." Turning around, he leaned behind the pillar, talking softly in a soothing tone. "Remember, just like we planned."

When he turned around, Steve was holding the hand of the little girl from the photos. She was dressed in blue jeans, pink sneakers with white laces, a pink sweater with yellow and blue flowers, and a pink and white bow in her blonde hair. "Hello, Joi. I'm Alice."

Joi went down on one knee so she could see Alice's eyes through the pink plastic framed glasses. "It's wonderful to meet you at last, Alice. Steve has told me so much about you."

In her free hand, she held a small bouquet of brightly colored flowers. "These are for you."

"They're beautiful."

The girl smiled shyly. "So are you." She looked up at Steve. "My friends at school will be jealous 'cause I have the prettiest foster mom and the handsomest foster dad in the world."

Steve squatted next to Joi. "And _we_ have the most beautiful foster daughter ever."

Impulsively, Alice threw her arms around them both. "Thank you for being my new parents." Over Alice's head, Joi saw Steve getting choked up, and almost lost it herself. He cleared his throat and stood, taking one of Alice's hands. Joi took the other, turning them toward the exit with Steve pulling her bag. "I've had your things brought to the condo, Alice. Hope you don't mind, but we won't be moving into the house for a few weeks."

"Rachael told me. It's okay." Alice pulled them to a stop, motioning for them to lean down. "I have a secret. Wanna know what it is?"

The girl's excitement was contagious. "Of course we do."

She looked around, and quickly unbuttoned the front of her sweater to show that she was wearing a dark blue t-shirt with the Captain America shield on the front. Lowering her voice even more, she whispered, "I know you're Captain America, Steve, and I won't tell _anyone_." She made a cross over her heart. "Promise."

 **Happy Things Tea Room**

 **Sunny Peaks Resort**

Standing in the lobby of the resort with the twins, Natasha and Bucky watched Novacek get into his rental car, and drive away. The man had walked right past as if he didn't see them. In the parking lot, Justin's eyes met theirs with a shrug.

They returned to the dining room, and the server rushed to bring an extra chair and place setting. Once they were all seated, Natasha signaled for fresh tea, and the twins ordered, just drinks. The server left, and as soon as she was out of earshot, Natasha asked, "Gracie, did you talk to Mr. Novacek? Do you know why he left?"

The girl shrugged, and picked up the last of her little sandwiches. "Dunno. He just did." She drank the rest of her tea, wiped her mouth, and stood up. "I'm gonna go play in the garden, okay?"

Bucky nodded. "Remember what we told you."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't talk to strangers, and if someone bothers me, scream."

"That's right."

"Why do I have to do all that when I got this?" Gracie held up her left hand, showing that she had what looked like an ankle monitor around her wrist. It was a wearable GPS tracker for kids.

Leaning down so they were eye to eye, Bucky mock-glared at her. "'Cause your mother said so, and she's the boss of _you_. Go. And stay out of trouble."

When she was gone, Natasha and Bucky looked at Wanda. Her eyes were troubled. "I cannot say if she was lying or telling the truth."

Mia slid into Gracie's seat, her cup in hand. Chase dragged a chair over to join them, Mia asking the question on all their minds. "Why? You said you could sense what others are feeling."

"I can, but there is a small percentage of people who are naturally resistant to empaths, and in varying degrees. Gracie is apparently one of them. I have not felt this from her before, so it is likely a recent change to her mental state."

Leaning forward, Chase lowered his voice. "You know what else was weird? As soon as she touched him, Novacek spilled the beans. First, he told the story he was going to feed us then the truth. It was mega-creepy to watch. Not to mention wondering if she's done it others."

"Yeah," Mia added. "Like her mother, or one of us."

"Would we even remember, if she had?"

Natasha sighed. "Those are questions for another time, kids. We should go."

"Um, Natasha?" her son stopped her by taking her hand.

She resumed her seat while Bucky went to pay the bill. "Don't look so worried, Pietro. We won't let him take you."

The boy looked down at the tabletop for a moment. "If we refused to go with Novacek, would we be allowed to stay?"

"Depends. If the authorities get involved, because you're minors, they might side with the government of a small nation with whom they currently have strained diplomatic relations in order to keep them happy."

Wanda gripped her brother's hand. "And if we were older, perhaps eighteen in a few months, what would happen then?"

Thinking it over, Natasha came up with a scenario that would ease their fears, at least for a while. "At that age, you would have the right to choose. Because you came to the US legally, I doubt there would be a problem, if you wanted to stay."

The twins got strange, faraway looks in their eyes, and Natasha knew they were communicating telepathically. When they were ready to tell her what they're thinking, they would. Suddenly tired, though she slept most of the night, all she wanted to do was go home and rest. She handed the keys to Bucky when he came back. "You drive. I need to think."

Chase busied himself packing his equipment. "I'll get to work on those documents when I get to the office, and let you know as soon as I find something."

Mia took off the straw hat, and her hair returned to the blonde color she preferred. She quickly unbuttoned the front of the dark blue cotton dress with tiny blue, pink and white flowers, shoving it and the hat into the enormous bag she carried. Underneath, she had on chocolate brown leggings, and a dark tan sweater dress that hung to the bottom of her thighs. She removed the Mary Jane shoes, stashed them in the bag with the other clothes, and pulled on a pair of brown combat boots with the knitted cuff. "You should've let me fry the electrical system in his car so he couldn't leave."

Bucky ushered the family into the lobby. "Justin's following him, plus there's the tracker."

Natasha went to the garden door and called Gracie. "Even if he loses Justin, we know where he's staying. The tracker is so we can see where he's going while he's here."

Once they were outside, Wanda got between Natasha and Bucky, nodding at Gracie who was now chasing and being chased by Mia in the front garden of the inn. "If she is able to influence others by simply touching them, why not have her tell him to go home and forget about us?"

Sticking his nose into the conversation, Chase responded, "Because this guy von Strucker is still out there, and determined to get you and your brother under his influence. We have to find a way to force him, whoever he is, to leave you alone until you're of legal age, at least. Then he has no recourse. You can go where and when you want without anyone's permission. Within reason, naturally." A thoughtful gleam came into Chase's eyes as he took out his car keys. "Call you soon, Nat, Gramps."

The young man jogged to his car, stowed his bags in the trunk, got behind the wheel, and was gone in seconds.

The family, Gracie, and Mia got into Bucky's SUV, and he'd just gotten into the driver's seat when Justin's motorcycle announced its return before it came into sight. He braked next to the SUV, and put up the visor of his helmet. "Lost him, guys."

Natasha took out the tracking equipment. "I've got him. He's headed back toward town." The indicator came to a stop, and abruptly winked out. "What the hell? It stopped."

Justin's expression was unreadable as he adjusted his riding gloves. "I'll go stake out his hotel, keep an eye on him."

"What about Dexter?" Pietro wanted to know.

"Was gonna ask if you and Aunt Wanda would keep an eye on him for the night. I'd ask Mom, but she and Dad have plans."

Wanda smiled for the first time in days. "We'd be happy to do it."

To Bucky and Natasha, Justin said, "Mom was a little miffed you didn't include her in this little operation."

Bucky snorted. "Your mother is a wonderful person, but she's a terrible liar. Spent most of her high school years grounded because of it."

The young man shook his head, put the visor down, and rode off, waving as he turned the corner into the street.

 **On the Way Home**

Having Alice as part of their family happened so quickly that Steve and Joi were stunned, uncertain how to handle being parents. On the plane, Joi had read everything she could about taking care of a child with Alice's special needs, and Steve had as well. They needed to know what they were in for in the coming years, because there was no doubt in his mind that they would eventually adopt her.

Because of her short stature, Alice had to use a booster seat in the back seat of Joi's SUV, but she didn't seem to mind. The girl had been talking non-stop since they left the airport. When she finally paused for a breath, Joi turned in the seat as far as the seatbelt would allow so she could see her better. "Steve tells me you want to learn to tap dance."

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I saw a movie with a man dancing in the rain, and it looked like fun."

Steve glanced in the rearview mirror and back to the road. "I can teach you. My best friend taught me when we were about your age. You're Uncle Justin can dance too."

"That would be so _cool_! Can you twirl a baton?"

Both adults laughed, and Steve shook his head. "No. But I bet we could find someone who can."

Joi touched Alice on the knee. "Are you hungry, Alice? I have a restaurant. We could stop there for lunch on the way home."

The car came to a stop at the light, and Steve took his phone out. "Let's see if Bucky and Nat want to join us." Before either of his girls answered, he'd already dialed. "Nat."

" _James, it's Steve._ " Into the phone Natasha said, " _Is Joi with you?_ "

Placing a finger over her lips to tell Alice to be quiet, Joi winked at her. "I'm here. We were hoping you could join us for lunch."

Static came out of the phone as it was passed from one person to another. " _Tasha's not hungry, and the rest of us have eaten. What's going on?_ "

Natasha's voice came back. " _We're on the way home. If you're hungry, come to the house. The kids are taking care of Dexter, and it's almost time for his next feeding._ "

Steve looked at the girls. Both nodded their consent. "Works for us. See you in thirty." He put the phone away. "Change of plans. We can visit the restaurant another day."

"Yeah," Joi agreed. "You'll love Lupe. She's the manager."

"I like meeting new people, Joi. That's why I talked to Steve the day he came to look at the house, even though Rachel told me not to talk to strangers." The girl was both proud and contrite at the same time.

Joi touched her on the knee again, smiling affectionately. "I'm glad you did, or we wouldn't have the most beautiful daughter in the world, and the best haunted house in town."

Steve didn't miss how Joi had already started thinking of Alice as their child. He'd fallen for the girl within the first five minutes. Alice didn't seem to notice, but that didn't mean she hadn't caught on. No matter what the so-called experts said about the limited IQ of children with her condition, he thought she was smart, funny, practical, compassionate, and best of all, his and Joi's.

He changed lanes, and got on the highway headed for Bucky's house, his mind swirling with anticipation. Alice would make an amazing addition to the Barnes family. Too bad Mom would never know what an extraordinary granddaughter she had. One day soon, Steve and Joi would take Alice to Brooklyn to visit his mom's grave.

 **You're Brew-Tea-Full Café**

 **12** **TH** **Street and Holly Hill Road**

"…and in my haughtiest Grammy Blanche accent I said, 'Ah'm from th' South. Flirtin' is part o' my heritage'." Harry sipped his coffee, grinning at Rey almost choking on her hot chocolate. "Then, later, when we got back to my place, she sat on the sofa, and the creak scared her."

Eventually, the laughter tapered off. Finally able to speak again, Rey asked, "What did she say?"

"Oh, my ******* God! That's the noisiest thing to come out of Detroit since Martha and The Vandellas." Again, he waited out her laughter. "That's how I knew it wasn't going to work out. We watched a movie, had some wine, and I sent her home with just a peck on the cheek."

Rey waved her cookie dismissively. "If she can't put up with Farley, you're better off without her."

"As I recall, you spent months trying to talk me into getting rid of that old sofa."

She looked down at the table top, poking the crumbs around on the napkin. "And you're better off without me. Case proven."

Leaning back in his chair, Harry crossed his arms. "We've already beaten this subject to death, Minx. Let's not go there anymore."

"You're right. You're right." She held out her hand, and he took it. "How's your mom doing since Grammy Deveraux passed?"

"Better." He kissed her fingers. "Thanks again for coming to the service."

A sad smile crossed her lips as she tightened her grip on his hand. "I know how much you miss her."

They sat in silence for a moment, and for some reason, it reminded Harry that he had something of hers. He reclaimed his hand, using it to reach into the computer bag sitting on the floor next to him, pulling out a thick hardback book with raised lettering on the front. "Forgot to give you this."

Rey's face lit up as she hugged it to her. "My senior yearbook! Where did you find it?"

"I had a bunch of boxes in storage, and now that there's room, I brought them to the house." He tapped the spine. "It was in the last box."

Her eyes widened with mock horror. "You didn't open it, did you? I had the worst haircut that year. Thought I was hip, cool, and so with it. But now…"

"Of course I went through it. Had to have a look at the basics, you know. Senior class president, quarterback of the football team, chess team captain, class slut."

She snorted and shook her head. "How do you tell a slut from a yearbook?"

"Offhand," he ticked the points off one at a time, "you don't have to buy a yearbook dinner, you can take a yearbook home to your parents, and there's nothing wrong with having a yearbook on the coffee table. Ow!" The last was said when she kicked him in the shin.

"That wasn't a riddle, Harry."

Picking up his cup, he brought it his mouth. "You have to admit they were good answers." He drank the last of his coffee, and checked the time. "Sorry to cut this short. I have an appointment at three." Harry helped Rey on with her jacket, and walked with her to her SUV. She opened the doors, and he put the yearbook on the back floorboard. He opened the driver's door, and before she could get in, he hugged her tight. "Anytime you need someone to talk to again, give me a call."

Her fingertips brushed over his cheek. "I will. Thanks for last night." She rolled her eyes and grinned. "And this morning."

"I only let you use me as a plaything because I still love you."

"Ditto."

They were about to kiss when footsteps stopped near them. "Rey?"

From the look in her eyes, she knew to whom the voice belonged, because she pushed out of his arms as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She looked from him to the other man and back. "I suppose introductions are in order. Harry Deveraux, Justin Lockwood. Justin," she finally looked at the other man's face, "Harry is… he's my ex."

Justin's eyes flicked from one to the other, his expression unreadable. "Doesn't _look_ like an ex-boyfriend."

So Rey wouldn't have to do this alone, Harry turned to face Justin. "Rey and I were engaged to be married several years ago."

The other man's eyes widened slightly then narrowed as he stared questioningly at Rey. "Justin, Harry is my ex- _fiancé_."

 **TBC**


	99. Chapter 99

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 99**

To Harry, Rey whispered, "Can you give us a minute?"

"Sure." He pointed to his car on the other side of the lot. "If you need me, I'll be right over there."

When Harry had moved out of earshot, Rey went on the defensive. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Strangely enough, I stopped for coffee on the way to run an errand for Gramps and Nat." He pointed his chin in Harry's direction. "Like I said, he doesn't look like an ex."

Though he obviously thought his tone was neutral, Rey could hear a sliver of jealousy in it, and that got her hackles up. "We were friends long before we got engaged, and our feelings didn't change just because we decided not to get married." She knew what he was thinking, and had to put a stop to it. "You're acting like I should be celibate while we're apart, Justin, even though it was my idea. We're on a _break_. I wasn't a nun while you were gone, nor was I one before we met. Harry has always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to, or needed a little… stress relief."

"And I stress you out so much you have to sleep with _two_ men in the same week?"

" _What_ are you talking about?" She was annoyed and frustrated with his attitude.

Justin crossed his arms. "The guy I saw you with the other night, and now him."

Exasperated, Rey growled deep in her throat. "Grr! I didn't sleep with Rio!"

"You're dating a guy named River?"

"It's his initials, Rafael Ignacio Ortega, RIO. He's my _cousin_ , just back from deployment to Afghanistan. Tia Sophia won't leave him alone for more than five minutes, so I took him out to dinner and to listen to karaoke. Too bad you ruined it for both of us by being there with that girl."

"What girl?"

"The tall girl I saw you talking to. The first to get up on stage."

For a moment, Rey saw something in his eyes that looked like dread then it was gone. "Shelly. We talked, and sang a duet. That was it." He looked at his feet. "But I wasn't there with _her_. Shelly came with a group of friends. I came with someone else."

Taken aback, Rey exhaled through her own spot of jealousy, "Oh. Anyone I know?"

"No. His name is Marshall. Met him at the Washateria about two weeks ago." When Justin finally let their eyes meet again, he seemed resigned, or maybe it was something else. "I didn't _sleep_ with him. He got drunk trying to keep up with me. I took him back to his apartment, put him to bed, and went home."

Something about his story was off, but Rey couldn't put her finger on it. "That's _your_ business, Justin, just like this is _my_ business." She gestured over her shoulder. "I have to say good-bye to Harry, and get going on some errands for the studio."

Before he could respond, she opened the door of her SUV, and when she looked back, Justin had gone. A moment later, Harry touched her on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Didn't expect to run into him today." Rey put her hands on his shoulders, and tiptoed to give him one last kiss. Coming down off her toes, she felt lightheaded. "Don't take what I'm about to do as a commentary on the quality of that kiss."

Rey pushed past Harry to the grassy area between the parking lot and the hedge that ran along the curb at the back of the hair salon, and threw up. She took a deep breath, and did it again. She was standing with her hands on her knees when Harry's gentle hand touched her back. He handed her a glass of water, and several napkins. "Oh, God, I'm so embarrassed."

To her surprise, he and chuckled. "Don't be. Remember? I nursed you through the flu the first winter we were together. And it's that time of year."

"You held my hair while I…" The dizziness was back. She closed her eyes and clutched Harry's hand until it stopped. "I'll just go home, and lie down for a while."

"Got you this to help."

He handed her a tin of her favorite organic decaf peppermint tea. "Thanks."

He drew her into a one-armed hug, placing a brief kiss on her forehead. "Go straight home, Minx. I'll call to see how you're feeling in a couple of days."

~~O~~

Refusing to speculate on the veracity of Rey's story, Justin got his coffee, and returned to the bike, setting the cup in the holder inside the seat. He put on his helmet, started it up, and headed for the Fiesta Hotel where he took up a post in an inconspicuous corner of the lobby where he could see who came and went, in case Novacek went out again, or had company.

The people who wandered through the lobby, and the staff, paid him no mind though he sat there until after midnight. Shortly before he left, Justin heard the front desk clerk on the phone with Novacek.

"… _a wake-up call at seven, Mr. Novacek? Would you like breakfast at the same time? Yes, sir. I'll bring it myself… Sleep well, sir_."

Justin sent a text to Gramps, letting him know that their mutual pain in the ass was in for the night. He got on his bike, and headed for home. With Dexter being cared for by Wanda and Pietro, he could take the opportunity to get an uninterrupted night's sleep for a change.

But instead of going home, Justin turned off his phone so he couldn't be tracked, and made a detour that he'd later lie about, not only to his family, but to himself.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The doorbell rang, and Gracie ran ahead of Bucky to answer the door, opening it only a few inches. The girl had the strangest look on her face. "Who is it, baby girl?"

"It's Steve and Joi, and they brought someone with them."

Gracie pushed the door open, and Bucky stopped in his tracks. His granddaughter and his best friend were standing on either side of a little girl dressed mostly in pink, and holding their hands. Unable to contain herself, Joi blurted out, "Gramps, this is Alice. She's our foster daughter." To the girl, she said, "This is your great-grandfather, Alice."

Bucky crouched in front of the girl. "Hi, Alice."

"Hi. Um," she looked up at Steve and Joi, "what do I call him?"

He touched Gracie on the back. "How about Papa? That's what Gracie calls me."

"Okay… Papa." Her eyes slanted to the side. "Hi, Gracie."

"Hello, Alice." Though younger than Alice, she was nearly a half a head taller. She tilted her head to the side. "You're kinda short, and you talk funny."

Taking the comment in stride, Alice let go of Joi and Steve's hands. "I have Down Syndrome."

Steve, Joi and Bucky all held their breath waiting for Gracie's response.

"What's that?"

So Alice wouldn't have to explain, provided she knew what it meant, Steve offered, "That means she has all or part of a third copy of something called chromosome 21. She has three instead of two."

Gracie thought that over a while, and smiled brightly. "That's cool 'cause it makes you extra special." She grabbed Alice's hand, pulling her toward the back of the house. "Wanna meet the cats? They will _love_ you. Oh, and Justin's baby kitten is here too, and he is soooo cute! He has to eat from a bottle like a baby person, and Justin let me feed him a couple of times."

Natasha joined them watching the girls talking together, Gracie being her usual lovable self, accepting Alice without prejudice because of her differences.

The adults had to talk privately about Novacek, and about Gracie's ability. Bucky nodded toward the den, and they all filed in that direction. He stopped at the door when the girls ran up. "Papa, can I show Dexter to Alice?"

"You'll have to ask Wanda and Pietro. They're kitten-sitting for Justin tonight."

By the end of his sentence, Gracie had already dragged Alice toward the stairs. When they reached the top, they ran to the end of the hall calling for the twins. Pietro's door opened, introductions were made, and the door closed again.

Four smiling faces met, and the atmosphere changed. Natasha ushered everyone into the den, leaving the door cracked so they could hear what was going on. "We have a lot to say, and not much time to say it."

Steve and Joi sat on the love seat. "Sorry we couldn't be there. What did Novacek say was the reason for taking the kids back to Sokovia?"

Natasha sat on Bucky's knee at the desk so she would have access to the information they'd collected. "He didn't really say much. And that's another issue altogether."

"How so?" Joi inquired, taking Steve's hand.

Bucky hated dramatic pauses, but it worked for this revelation. "It involves Gracie."

 **Later That Night**

Dexter finished the last of his bottle. Wanda cleaned his face, burped him, and wiped his little tushy just the way Justin had shown her. Cradling him in her arms, she went to put him in the box with is blanket and bear, but he grabbed hold of her shirt with his tiny claws, and climbed up to cuddle against her neck. Once he was asleep, Pietro came to her rescue, and placed him carefully in the box. He draped the blanket over the box to keep the kitten warm, and waited at the door for Wanda while she put on a jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves.

On the way downstairs, tiptoeing so Bucky and Natasha wouldn't hear, Pietro put on his jacket, and pulled a knit cap down over his ears. They let themselves out the front door, closing it with a soft click.

Together, they walked to the end of the street. At the corner, he turned to his sister. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Wanda nodded emphatically. "We must find out the real reason Novacek is here, and convince him to go back to Sokovia alone. To tell von Strucker that we refused to leave America."

"Forgive me, _sestrenka_ , but I do not believe that he will be easily persuaded to our way of thinking."

The red mist formed at her fingertips. "We will give him a choice, the easy way: leave tomorrow, and do not return. Or the hard way. Hard for him. And when I am done, he will wish he'd never left Sokovia."

"You are _not_ going to kill him. Here, sometimes children are tried as adults for the crime of murder. And that's just one reason. There are many others."

She started walking again, and he stayed at her side. "And what if he gives us no other option, _starshiy brat_?"

Pietro stopped her with a hand on her arm. "If you kill him, our plans for Stark may be exposed. We could be put in prison for a long time, or worse, deported back to Sokovia."

The red at her fingertips darkened. "Then I'll think of a way to change his mind that _doesn't_ kill him."

Resigned to following Wanda's lead, Pietro picked her up and took off, arriving at the Fiesta Hotel within minutes. He put Wanda on her feet, and together, they approached the side entrance. The headlights of a car flashed over them, and they ducked into the thick hedge that bordered the property. Keeping his voice low, Pietro leaned close. "What does Natasha call it when you have a look around before going inside?"

"Recon. That would be wise. Let's split up, and meet back here in fifteen minutes."

"As long as you do not take matters into your own hands while we are apart."

She poked him in the side, and moved toward the back of the building while he went the other way. Each time she came to a camera, Wanda zapped it so that no one would see them enter the building.

 **Iris' Home**

Chase hushed Dakota as he let himself in the front door. He gave the dog a head rub, and went into the hall bathroom to change into his pajamas. After brushing his teeth, and washing his face, he let himself into Iris' room, tiptoeing across the carpet to the far side of the bed.

He lifted the covers, and slid underneath. Like iron to a magnet, Iris rolled over to cuddle against his side without waking up. His thoughts whirled and ricocheted inside his head. Eventually, he fell asleep, not even hearing or feeling it when Dakota nosed the door open, and jumped up to lay at their feet.

 **Mia's Apartment**

The door opened, and Mia let herself into the apartment, not bothering to be quiet this late at night because Sam was out of town for the rest of the week. That's why she nearly electrocuted him when he stepped out of the bathroom.

He grabbed her hands, holding them up out of the way. "Whoa, babe. It's me."

"Sorry, Sam." She pulled free, and keeping her face averted, moved around him into the bathroom. "Guess this thing with the twins has me on edge."

He put a hand up to stop her from closing the door. "Where've you been? Out with Danae, Violet, and, uh…"

"Madigan. And no. I had errands to run."

"You don't have any bags with you. Also, who runs errands at zero dark thirty?"

Mia cracked the door open, confused at the term. "Sorry?"

Sam leaned against the wall with is arms crossed. "It's military slang for an unspecified time in the hours before dawn. Usually after two in the morning."

"Oh." She finished washing her face, and brushing her teeth. Sam was still in the same place when she turned out the light. " _What_?"

"You still haven't told me where you were."

Annoyed, Mia went into the bedroom to change into her pajamas. Knowing he was watching, she took her time. "Didn't know I had to account for my whereabouts."

Raising his hands in surrender, he picked up her top, and helped her into it. "Fair enough. But if the cops come around, we need to have our stories straight."

She snorted, and pulled the covers down on her side of the bed. "Then keep it simple. We watched a movie…"

"Which one?" He lifted the other side of the covers, and lay down.

"Doesn't matter."

He sat cross-legged, watching her with those eyes. "Oh, it matters."

She adjusted the pillow, and switched out the light. "Then make it something we've already seen." Mia gave off keep away vibes, so Sam stayed on his side of the bed.

He lay down facing her. "We also had dinner. Pizza or Chinese?"

"Barbeque."

"And after that?"

Huffing, Mia turned just her head to look at him in the dark, the slight glow from the streetlamps filtering through the curtains letting her see his eyes. "We made love until dawn. And if they doubt your story, tell them about the tattoo on my ass. I'll even show it to them." She turned on her side, facing away from him. "Now go to sleep."

"Without a kiss good night?" he wheedled.

Normally, she found his gentle way of encouraging her to engage in intimate activities endearing. Not tonight. Pulling the covers up to her chin, Mia grumbled, "In case you haven't figured it out yet, Sam, I'm _not_ in the mood."

The other side of the bed shifted as he rolled over to face the windows. He didn't say another word, and it was some time before either of them went to sleep, but for different reasons.

 **The Fiesta Hotel**

 **Room 307**

 **After Midnight**

Novacek took his plain brown pajamas from the dresser, and laid them on the foot of the bed with a clean pair of white socks. He'd only gotten the top two buttons of his shirt undone when there was a light knock at the door. Wondering who it could be at this time of night, he did up the buttons, smoothed his hair, and peeked out the door viewer, seeing a figure standing in the dark. The hallway light across from his room was out, leaving a long dark stretch. "Who is it?"

A voice spoke so softly that he could barely hear it, the owner obviously taking care not to wake the other guests. "The night manager. A pipe burst in room above you. It's been cleaned up, but I was wondering if you would care to move, just in case water comes through. We'll upgrade your room and comp tonight."

Listening closely, Novacek didn't hear water running, or the maintenance workers, and hadn't seen any evidence of water leaking through the ceiling. He opened the door to let the manager in, but when he reached for the light switch, a hand wrapped around his neck, and pulled him close. The voice changed, whispering strange words that had no meaning.

Novacek was released, and he stepped back into the room with a smile. "Just let me pack my things."

Slowly and methodically, he packed his belongings into his single suitcase, put his hat on, shrugged into his coat, put on his shoes, and picked up the suitcase and briefcase. The manager led him to the stairs at the end of the hall, and Novacek didn't wonder why they weren't taking the elevator.

On the first floor, as if it were perfectly normal, he was lead out a rear exit, and put into an idling car. The manager, who was not really the manager, got behind the wheel, and the pair drove away from the Fiesta Hotel, taking an erratic path to their destination that avoided all the traffic cams.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Morning**

Buttoning his shirt as he came down the stairs, Bucky heard pans and plates rattling in the kitchen, and smelled food cooking. Natasha was making breakfast. He kissed her on the cheek, grabbed a coffee cup from the dish drainer, and filled it from the pot that had just finished brewing. "Where'd you go last night?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I woke up around one, and you were gone."

She looked away, and shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Went for a run."

Snagging her around the waist, he kissed her neck. "You should've woken me. I have a few ideas for wearing us both out."

Surprisingly, her petite body stiffened, and she turned away when he pressed his cheek to hers. "Please don't, James."

Immediately, Bucky released her. "Did I do something wrong? Tell me what it is, and I'll make it right, or apologize, or whatever will make you not mad at me anymore."

Natasha sighed, and turned to face him. "I'm sorry. It's nothing _you_ did." She rubbed a hand up and down his right bicep. "This whole situation with the kids…"

"I know. Me too." This time, when he pulled her close, she allowed it. "But we'll get through this the same way we always have: as a family."

"As long as we've been together, and I'm still getting used to this family togetherness thing. Sometimes, I have to go off on my own for a while."

Nodding understanding, Bucky smiled gently. "Got it. Just tell me one thing."

"What?"

Bucky stepped back, and his smile dimmed. "If you went out for a run during the night," he opened the drawer of utensils to show a handgun lying on top of the spoons, forks, and ladle, "then why is the gun you keep under the nightstand in the kitchen?"

Natasha plucked the weapon from the drawer, and shoved it in the back waistband of her slacks, pulling her top down to cover it. "I was cleaning it, and when I heard you coming, I thought it was the kids."

He accepted her explanation because it had happened before. Natasha didn't want the twins to know she kept weapons in the house, and he understood why. Kids that age are curious, always pushing the envelope, testing their boundaries to see how much they could get away with. They only had to call them on it a few times.

Drawn by the smell of food, the twins came down the stairs in their pajamas, yawning and dragging their feet, as always, following in the wake of the cats. Squinting in the bright morning light, Pietro fed the cats while Wanda set the table, both barely awake.

As they sat down to eat, Bucky asked, "Why are you so tired? Did you stay up late playing games online?"

They both stopped with their forks in midair, and nodded, not meeting his eyes. He exchanged a glance with Natasha. She shook her head, meaning they would talk to the kids later, if they didn't come to them first.

~~O~~

Once they were done eating, Bucky went into his office, and Natasha sat in the recliner with the laptop, going over everything that happened at the inn with Novacek, paying special attention to his interaction with Gracie, and the fact that von Strucker was involved. She'd also taken down notes on Steve and Joi's thoughts and observations.

Von Strucker had a reputation for ignoring protocol, and going forward with human experimentation without getting approval, which was against the guidelines set forth for SHIELD's R&D by the World Security Council, and the United Nations. He'd been reprimanded several times for his actions. Because he was in hiding, Natasha now knew something she'd only suspected without verifiable proof: von Strucker, List, and their minions were HYDRA. And if they were responsible for the twins' powers…

Suddenly, Bucky stuck his head out of the den door, motioning for her to join him, and to be quiet about it. He led her to the corner of the room that was directly under the upstairs hallway. From here, you could sometimes hear what people were saying on the second floor, especially if they were in or near the linen closet or the bathroom. They heard splashing, and angry mews coming from Dexter.

"… _He does not like having a bath_ ," Pietro was saying.

" _It's our own fault that he has to have one. If we hadn't been gone so long during the night, we would have been here when he need to go._ "

" _Plus, we wouldn't now be tired, and have lied to James and Natasha about why_."

Natasha didn't wait to hear the rest. She marched upstairs, with Bucky behind her. They went into the bathroom without knocking, glaring at one child then the other. "You _snuck_ out of the house in the middle of the night?"

The twins had that deer-in-the-headlights look on their faces that would've been comical at any other time, not saying a word.

Stepping forward, Natasha angrily stated, "You're grounded." She held out both hands.

Backing her up, Bucky added, "No cells phones, no video games, and any plans you have with your friends are cancelled."

Chastened, they handed over their phones, Pietro asking, "For how long are we to be grounded?"

Natasha shut the phones off, and turned to go. "Until we decided you've learned your lesson."

At the door, Bucky looked back with such an expression of disappointment, that both kids dropped their eyes.

 **TBC**


	100. Chapter 100

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Chapter 100! Hope it's worthy of the milestone. :-)

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 100**

To up the feelings of guilt, Bucky slowly closed the bathroom door, when what he really wanted to do was slam it hard enough to break the hinges.

Kids being kids, it was bound to happen sooner or later, and now it had. Bucky and Natasha had grounded their children for an indeterminate number of days.

Living on the streets of Sokovia, a place they'd grown up in, was vastly different than the D.C. area. The government and the economy in their home country were on the verge of collapse, with crime steadily rising as the residents fought for what few resources were available. But they had already adapted to the changes, and so were a part of the change.

Here, the crime was more wide-spread, and more violent, mostly related to drugs and gang activity. Murder was an everyday occurrence in the nation's capital.

The thought of using physical violence against their children was abhorrent, and never solved the underlying problem. When they confronted Wanda and Pietro about sneaking out during the night, Bucky had been scared, as had Natasha, both of them lashing out with the only real weapon they had: anger. When everyone calmed down, the four of them would have to talk about where and why the kids had snuck out.

In the den, Natasha sat on the love seat with a heavy sigh. "This isn't the first time one of them has left without telling you or me where they were going. I caught Pietro coming in after going for a run. He hadn't even left a note."

"Um, yeah. About that… He went for a run, alright. A _long_ run."

Suspicious about Bucky's tone, Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "How long?"

Her husband obviously didn't want to say. "Brooooook… lyn."

"Brooklyn?!" Natasha gapped at him.

Bucky sat down, and took her hand. "It was weeks ago, before we knew what they could do. Pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out."

Natasha yanked her hand free, and crossed her arms. "Didn't know there was a statute of limitations on disobeying a parent's standing orders."

"I sure hope so, or could be in a _lot_ of trouble… if Mom were still alive, that is."

His tone more than anything made her laugh. Natasha moved to his lap. "I've never been a parent before. Most moms and dads have years to prepare for this phase teenage rebellion. You've been through it a few times. When does it get easier?"

He cuddled her close. "It doesn't. Believe me, one child, two children, or a dozen, it doesn't matter. What worked with the first child might not necessarily work with two through twelve. Even us seasoned parents have to feel our way. We'll figure it out."

She hugged him around the neck, kissed his forehead, and stood. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Keeping hold of her hand, Bucky looked up at her. "I've been thinking. We should confront Novacek with what we know. Someplace public so he won't feel threatened."

"Threatening is part of my skill set." One side of her mouth turned up. "Be a shame to waste it."

"Right. And if something happens to him, we'll be at the top of the suspects list, along with the rest of the family. Even the kids."

Her hand clenched on his, and the smile went away. "That's what scares me the most. We don't know the full extent of Wanda's powers. She could convince him to drive his car off a cliff or into the Potomac at high tide, or kill himself any number of ways that would look like an accident, and no one would suspect. And what about Gracie? According to Chase, Novacek did whatever she told him to do, and made it seem like his idea."

"Let's not second guess them just yet. Yes, the twins snuck out during the night, and until they tell us where they went and why, we should assume the best, and not the worst. As for Gracie…" he let that hang in the air. What happened with the girl was her mother's decision, not theirs.

She heaved a sigh, knowing he was right. "I bow to your superior knowledge of the teenage mind, my husband. I'll go, and let you get back to work."

In the living room, Natasha turned the recliner so it faced the catio, and the back yard, picked up the laptop, and went back to what she'd been doing.

 **Tunnel Vision**

Standing in the hallway, Iris leaned on her cane while staring at the closed door of the formerly empty supply room, now the office of her boss's IT business. Chase and she had only spoken a few words to each other since he came to bed late this morning, or, early, depending on your point of view. They'd also taken their own cars instead of carpooling. She wanted to talk about the family meeting, but he wouldn't say what went on, or why it had been called, nor did he tell her where he'd been until all hours.

Chase had beaten her to Tunnel Vision, and immediately sequestered himself in the IT office with the door locked. Leaning close, all she could hear was the tapping of fingers on the keyboard, and the occasional muttered curse.

Resigned to working alone-not that it was a problem-Iris went back to the office, and was soon immersed in research on the new payment system.

Hours later, the alarm on her phone went off, reminding her that she had a PT appointment at three. She gathered her things, locked the desk, checked that the safe was locked as well, and stepped into the hall, almost running into Alex.

He pointed a thumb at the IT door still closed. "'Sup with the boss? Haven't seen him all day. He just stays in there working."

"Don't know, Alex. Some sort of special project." She adjusted her grip on the cane, and hitched the bag higher on her shoulder. "I have to go out, and won't be available until after five. If you need anything, Chase is your go-to guy for now. If he gives you any grief, remind him who the boss is."

With a half-smirk, Alex responded, "That's _you_ , right?"

Iris pointed a finger at him. "And don't you forget it. Bye."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Mid-morning**

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Natasha brushed her teeth, rinsed, and leaned close while she flossed. Since the incident with the twins, she and Bucky had calmed down, but weren't yet ready to talk to them about sneaking out during the night.

She tossed the floss away, washed her hand, and used a tissue to dab at the corners of her mouth. Rummaging in the small drawer, she found one of Bucky's combs, and used it on sides of her hair above her ears, tucking it behind so it wouldn't get in her way.

As Natasha went to drop the comb back in the drawer, she noticed something odd: gray hair. Turning her head side to side, she didn't see any in her hair. Thinking that Pietro had forgotten to clean it, she pulled the hairs out and tossed them in the trash too.

On her way out the door, she picked up her purse. At the bottom of the stairs, she gave a brief thought to leaving without telling the kids good-bye. Doing so would be petty, and she'd only be punishing herself. So, she passed through the living room to the dining room where Pietro and Wanda were studying, and kissed them each on the cheek. "I'll be home by dinner time. Call or text, if you need me. I'll call if I'm going to be late."

The twins looked up from their computers, wariness in their eyes. They nodded, and Natasha went out to the car, and sat for a few moments, thinking about how her life had changed in the past few months. Marriage, children, and the feeling that something wasn't quite right. It wasn't finding out that their adoptees-and Gracie-had super-powers. Nor was it Novacek and his bid to take their children away from them.

This feeling had begun weeks before, and had only grown over time. Natasha had realized the day she couldn't force herself to do much of anything except sit and look out the window that something was wrong. On many occasions, when the malaise settled around her, she wondered if the changes that were made to her DNA when she was a child were coming unraveled, or breaking down, and she was beginning to feel like an average human female.

Then, this morning, after Bucky had left for the museum, while she was showering, she'd felt not at all like herself. What she needed was a mission to take her mind off whatever it was. All it took was a thirty-second phone call, and she was good to go. Fly out around noon, do the work, and back in time for dinner. Easy-peasy, as Chase and Justin said.

Natasha started the car, backed out of the driveway, and headed for the airfield, humming along with the radio.

 **At the University**

 **Intro to Statistical Analysis**

Bored. Mia was so freaking _bored_ she could barely keep her eyes open. Good thing she'd chosen to sit in the back of the room so the instructor (yeah, right!) wouldn't see her playing on her phone. She tried getting Sam interested in a little sexting, but he hadn't responded, and that usually meant he was working or sleeping.

Leaning back in her chair, Mia saw something that caught her attention. One of the guys was rubbing the shoulders of the girl in front of him. Everyone knew they were a couple, so it was ignored.

But for Mia, it sparked a memory from a couple of weeks ago. They'd been at Aunt Carolyn's for Uncle Martin's birthday, and while he was opening gifts, Natasha was sitting in a dining room chair so Wanda could massage her shoulders. After a while, Natasha patted her hand, and smiled up at her in thanks.

The kicker, something Mia hadn't noticed at the time, was the red mist adhering to Wanda's palms when she removed her hands. It had dissipated quickly, and that corner was slightly darker than the rest of the room, causing her to think she'd been seeing things. Now she knew she hadn't. Mia had warned Wanda about using her powers on the family, and she'd done it anyway. And if she'd used them on Natasha, who else had been a victim of her psionics?

Mia turned off the tablet displaying the course text from which Gerald Abney, the instructor was teaching, shoved it into her backpack, and headed for the door.

" _Where_ are you going, Ms. Barnes?" He always sounded exasperated and annoyed. "Class isn't over for another twenty minutes."

He was an older man, and not nearly as enlightened as he liked to think. If anyone shared something about themselves that he deemed too personal, he would immediately stop them, and go onto the next person, or change the subject.

Clutching her abdomen, Mia bent forward slightly. "Cramps, Mr. Abney. My cycle started this morning, and…"

Abney held up a hand to halt her explanation. "Just _go_ , Ms. Barnes."

She stayed bent over until she was out of sight of the room then broke into a run. Her car was parked two blocks down the street so she wouldn't have to pay for parking on the university's property. She made the run in less than four minutes, tossed her backpack into the passenger seat, and took off without her seatbelt. At the first light, she buckled up so she wouldn't get a ticket, at least not for that, and broke a few speed laws getting to her grandfather's house.

As Mia came down the street, she was relieved to see that the driveway was empty. It was a school day, so the twins would be at home alone. She parked across the street, and ran to the front door. Pietro answered, backing out of the way when she pushed her way in. "Where's Wanda?"

"Why?" His attitude was defensive, and Mia more than understood his need to be protective toward his sister. It was the same reason she was here. No one messed with the Barnes family. Not even the Barnes family.

Ignoring the question, Mia searched the downstairs. Pietro caught up with her in the kitchen, grabbing her by the arm. She looked down at where his hand was gripping her bicep. He wasn't squeezing hard. Just enough to stop her from leaving. "Why are you looking for Wanda?"

Using her free hand, Mia zapped Pietro with a small electrical charge. He yelped and let go. "That's between me and her." Getting up close, she looked him in the eyes. "And I warn you, do _not_ get in the way or try to stop me."

He scoffed. "She doesn't need _me_ to fight her battles."

"Then we understand each other. Good."

The search continued. Mia listened to Pietro trailing behind, neither helping nor hindering. Through the window, she saw Wanda sitting on the patio with a pad and pencil. Opening the door, she stepped onto the deck, but didn't say anything as she slowly approached her aunt.

"I thought sitting outside would help with the assignment, Pietro. Maybe I am just not good at writing poetry."

Raising her right hand, Mia zapped the pencil from her hand, and braced for return fire.

Startled, Wanda turned around, and seeing who it was, she slowly got to her feet, facing off with Mia. "What are you doing here?"

Wanda backed up as Mia took slow, careful steps in her direction. "What did I tell you about using your powers on the family?"

"I have not…"

"At Uncle Martin's birthday party, I saw you using your mind control powers on Natasha."

Bringing her chin up, Wanda stood her ground. "If I were controlling Natasha and James, Novacek would be back in Sokovia, and Pietro and I would not now be grounded."

The women circled each other, Mia creating what she called a lightning ball in her right hand. In response, red mist formed at Wanda's fingertips.

"You're going to stop whatever you're doing to Natasha. Now!"

Wanda snorted, circling her wrists as if preparing for a fight. "I'm not hurting Natasha, nor have I, or Pietro, plans to do so. We would not hurt either of our parents. Not purposely."

"Then there won't be a problem when I tell her about it."

"That's not…"

Mia cocked her arm, and threw the lightning ball, sending it sailing through the air, straight toward Wanda's chest.

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Afternoon**

Dragging his tired body up the stairs to his apartment, Justin yawned, and scratched his stomach through his shirt. As soon as he put the key in the lock, he remembered that Dexter was still with Wanda and Pietro. They had to be wondering where he was by now.

He tossed his jacket and helmet on the sofa, turning his phone on with the other hand. While it was booting up, he used the bathroom, and washed his hands. Curiously, there were no missed calls, voice mail, or text messages. He dialed Wanda, and it went right to voicemail. Same with Pietro _and_ Natasha. Gramps had a big meeting scheduled at the museum, so he didn't even bother.

"I'll get a nap, and go get Dexter after dinner," Justin told himself as he undressed, leaving his clothes on the floor. He needed a shower, but that could wait. Sleep was his A number one top priority at the moment, because he doubted he could stay awake long enough to drive over to get him, and back without falling asleep at the wheel. He lay down, pulled the covers over his naked body, turned on his side, and was out like someone had flipped a switch.

 **Tunnel Vision**

 **Late Afternoon**

"Come in," Iris said at the light rap on the office door.

Luke stepped in, and closed them inside so they could talk privately. "Pretty good crowd tonight. Boss'll be pleased."

She glanced up, and back to the computer with a smile. "She already is."

The big man pulled a chair up to the desk and sat down. "What's with Chase lately? Locked himself in the IT office, and can't seem to keep his mind on work."

Holding in a sigh, Iris gave Luke her attention. "There's some major family drama going on. Not sure of the details. He's been playing it close to the vest the last week or so. Even with me."

"Sorry to hear that." He looked at her from the side. "Any plans on making it official, this thing between you and Chase?"

Feeling a moment of panic, Iris asked, "Official? How do you mean?"

"Living together, engaged, that sort of thing."

"We're exclusive, if that means anything. Not ready to live _and_ work together."

Luke chuckled. A deep throaty sound, as if he'd once been a smoker, and had quit not too long ago. "As much time as the two of you spend in each other's company outside of work, you might as well be." Iris opened her mouth, and shut it again when Luke touched his headset. "Cage." He jumped out of his seat, and yanked the door open. "On my way." To her, he explained, "Got a guy causing trouble at the front door. Won't take no for an answer."

"What's the question?"

He cocked his head, listening to his subordinate. "He's looking for someone by the name of Justin Lockwood."

The door slammed behind Luke, and Iris felt bad for him, mostly for not mentioning that Justin was Chase's brother. Exhaling loudly, Iris grabbed the black cane with the filigree handle, and stood. She straightened her clothes, and made her way out to the front door where she found Tunnel Vision's head of security looming over a slender man with short dark hair while those waiting to get in looked on with intense interest.

At five-two, and weighing a buck-seven, Iris knew that she and Luke made quite a pair. The man causing trouble crossed his arms, glaring at Luke, who looked back impassively. Iris took a step forward, bringing his attention to her. "I'm Iris Castillo, the manager. What seems to be the problem?"

The other man looked from her to Luke and back. "Manager? Since when does Justin Lockwood need someone to do his dirty work for him?"

Any sympathy she might've had for the man vanished at hearing his condescending tone. She leveled a glare at him with enough power behind it that he backed off. "It's customary when someone offers you their name that you reciprocate."

"Sean."

"Sean what?"

He huffed, and tugged at his shirt, showing part of a tattoo above the collar that looked like a Celtic symbol. "Just tell your boss that Sean is here. He'll know who I am, and he'll want to see me."

Holding onto her temper, Iris resisted letting Luke deal with him. "Doing the dirty work is why the owner, whose name is _not_ Justin Lockwood, pays me the big money." Taking another step forward into his personal space, she looked him in the eye. "Whether you fall under the category of dirty work or not depends on your behavior. If you conduct yourself like a reasonable, civilized human being, you're welcome to join us. If not, Luke and his assistant will be happy to escort you out. Now which is it?"

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **Late Evening**

It was full dark, and had been for a while when Justin finally woke up. Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, he padded into the bathroom to take a leak and a long, hot shower.

When he got out, he went to the kitchen to make coffee and figure out what to feed the creature that had taken up residence in his belly. While the coffee brewed, he went to get dressed. The red numbers on the clock said it was too late to drive over to his grandfather's house anyway, so he got into his pajamas, and called for pizza.

To pass the time, he did push-ups, sit-ups, washed the dishes, took out the trash, and swept the kitchen and bathroom. He thought about vacuuming, but it was late, and he didn't want to disturb his neighbors. By then, the food had arrived. He ate it in front of the television watching a movie that had come out while he was… out of the country. The plot was slow-moving, and the dialog bordered on hilarious. It was the first zombie apocalypse movie he'd ever seen. However, by the end, he was enamored of the genre.

When the movie was over, and the pizza gone, Justin searched for something to keep his interest. He missed having Dexter with him, needing to be feed, and looking to him for comfort, watching him with eyes almost too big for his head. _Face it, Lockwood, you need to be needed, and Dexter needs you, just like you need him_.

With his stomach full, and nothing much else to do, Justin went into the bedroom, intending to go back to bed. After the night, morning, and afternoon he had, rest was the best thing.

The light on his phone blinked. He scooped it up, and flopped onto the bed, lying on his back to listen to the message.

 _Hey, Justin. It's Rey. About today… Um, Harry pointed out that what I said about not being celibate while we're on this break made it sound like I thought it was okay for_ _me_ _, but not okay for_ _you_ _to sleep with other people. We both have the right to do as want without repercussions._

 _Harry also pointed out that you were jealous, seeing us together. I, uh, I have to admit that the ol' green-eyed monster crept into my head when I saw you with, um, Shelly? Was that her name? And again, when you said you'd been on a date with, oh, damn, I am_ _so_ _bad with names. Marshall!_

 _Anyway, if you want to sleep with someone, you already have, or plan on doing it, it's fine with me. I promise to try to keep the jealousy to a minimum, if you promise to do the same when we run into each other again._

 _One day, I'll explain why I never told you about Harry, but you have to keep it to yourself. Talk to you soon_.

Shaking his head, Justin sent Rey a text.

 _No need to apologize. Harry seems like a nice guy, and hopefully, I'll get to meet Rio and the rest of your family soon. Take care_.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

From the corner of her eye, Wanda saw Pietro preparing to intervene. She spread her arms wide, bouncing the ball of lightning into the air, to land in a bucket of water on the deck, and her brother onto his backside in the grass. "Stay out of this, Pietro!"

Wanda backed into the yard so she would have room to maneuver, Mia relentlessly following. She could see from her expression that the time for words had ended. What came about would be more about actions. She didn't want to hurt her niece or anyone else, but she might not be given a choice.

What neither woman saw was Pietro run into the house to make a couple of phone calls, and come back to watch. Through their link, Wanda received the message that he'd called their parents. Bucky would be home soon, and Natasha was a few minutes behind him. Though, the way she drove, they'd arrive at approximately the same time.

Mia stepped up her attacks, throwing one fireball after the other. Wanda easily deflected them, using her powers for defense only.

This went on for some time, with Mia growing more and more frustrated at her inability to get through Wanda's barriers. Both women were getting tired, and Mia had already set the gazebo on fire, twice. It was out within seconds, thanks to Pietro.

Wanda wanted the fight to end, to force Mia to listen to reason. At the moment, she was beyond logic, more so now than when she first arrived.

Concentrating, Wanda built a thick red barrier that looked like dried blood. She drew her hands back and made a pushing motion at the same time Mia did much the same with her power. As if in slow motion, the two shimmering forces moved toward each other just as Bucky leaped between them. "Stop!"

The electrical field and the amorphous barrier slammed into him at the same time. His body convulsed, facial features contorting into a mask of agony. And when the two forces dissipated, he stood there for a moment, breaths coming in hard pants, as if he'd run a marathon.

"No!"

The three young people turned in the direction of the cry, seeing Natasha come running out the back door just as Bucky's knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. She ran to his side, and dropped down next to him, holding tight to his hand.

All the young women could do was stare for a few tense seconds, unable to move, their eye wide with shock and fear. Then Wanda, Pietro and Mia were at Bucky's side. Wanda cradled his head in her lap, stroking his face. "No-no-no! What have we done? Father! Father, please. Don't die again! Please!"

 **TBC**


	101. Chapter 101

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 101**

Seeing the tears in Wanda's eyes, and hearing the anguish in her voice, Mia admitted that she may have been wrong about the girl's motives. Now it may be too late for an apology, and it would be on both their heads.

Holding Bucky's hand, Mia watched Natasha take out her phone, and punch in 9-1-1. Bucky stirred, and took a deep breath. Natasha deleted the numbers, and dialed another as she stood and walked to the deck. "Bruce, James had been injured. Will you come? Please?" She sagged in relief. For her, it was a slight inward curve of her shoulders. "Thank you."

Mia caught Pietro's eye, and nodded. He went to Natasha's side, holding her close with an arm around her shoulders, speaking softly. "I could transport him to the hospital, Mother. It will only take a few moments."

Natasha glanced back at Bucky lying in the grass, at each of the girls, then at Pietro, finally shaking her head. "He doesn't like anyone but Bruce examining him. And he'll be here soon."

Bucky moaned, and instantly, he was surrounded by his family. Natasha gripped his hand. "James, can you hear me?"

He moaned again, but didn't open his eyes.

They all turned at hearing the front door slam, and Steve's voice calling out. "Bucky? Nat? Why didn't anyone answer…" He stopped short, and Joi, Alice, and the dogs almost ran him over. Together, they joined the others, hanging back near the deck. "What happened?"

Still quietly crying, Wanda sniffed. "It was my fault."

"It was both our faults," Mia reminded her. "If we hadn't been testing our powers against each other, he wouldn't have gotten hurt. Guess he thought we were fighting." Thankfully, Wanda and Pietro didn't refute her statement.

Steve squatted next to Natasha. "Is anything broken?"

Finally looking up, Wanda brushed the tears from her cheeks, before generating the mist to cover his entire body, especially the area that had taken the biggest hit: his ribcage. Shaking her head, she let her hand rest on his chest. "The muscles of his chest and back are spasming, though nothing is broken or cracked." The mist thickened, and spread down his sides. "This will help them relax, and hopefully, he will not be in so much pain when he wakes."

Feeling like a fool, Mia realized that that is what Wanda must have been doing, using her abilities to relax Natasha's shoulders while rubbing them. Sort of like applying heat, but without the warmth.

Bucky's eyes fluttered open, and he immediately curled into a ball, rolling onto his side and moaning. "Oh, God! Argh!"

"What hurts, Father? I can help," Wanda offered.

"Everything!" Pain strained his voice. Wanda increased the intensity of her psionics, the mist pulsing in response.

Natasha's hand rested on his cheek. "Nothing's broken. Do you think you can stand?"

He made to sit up, and fell back down. "No." He groaned, and wrapped both arms around his chest.

"Let me." Steve's voice was quiet, telling them that he hadn't seen his friend in this condition in a long time.

Everyone backed up, and Steve picked Bucky up like a baby, grunting under his weight. He carried his friend into the house, up the stairs and into the bedroom, Natasha barely a step behind, and the rest of them following, yet staying out of the way.

Lightning flashed through the cloudless sky, startling everyone but Natasha and Steve. Moments later, Thor and Bruce came through the open back door. Bruce looked up at the worried faces of Bucky's family. He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, a medical case in one hand. Thor followed, carrying a second, larger case.

At the bedroom door, he turned to the group. "Please wait downstairs."

Bruce took the case from Thor, and closed the door, allowing only Natasha to stay.

 **The Lockwood Home**

Holding the photo, Carolyn glanced at Gracie with skepticism. "You're _sure_ this is the costume you want for Halloween this year?"

"Yes! Isn't it _cool_? It has boots, a vest, and all those places to put stuff on the pants." The girl bounced on the sofa next to Carolyn, and touched her dark blonde hair. "I'll have to cut my hair, and make it the right color."

Carolyn chuckled. "Not sure your mom'll like that."

"She's taking me to get my hair cut next week, and I can ask her about the color tonight."

Putting an arm around Gracie's shoulders, Carolyn pulled her great-niece close. "Don't get your hopes up. She could say no." She released the girl. "Tell you what. Get your shoes on, and we'll go shopping for the material to make your costume. We'll even stop at the thrift store to see if they have boots to fit."

Gracie ran into the guest room, and came out with her shoes. She sat on the floor to put the purple and black sneakers on, still talking a mile a minute about her "perfect" costume idea, certain that no one else would think of it. "Mom always gets them a little big so I can grow into them. If they're cool enough, I'll wear them when it snows."

Carolyn went to the front hall closet for their jackets. "Very practical." She helped Gracie into her jacket, grabbed her purse, and they ran to the car together.

 **Fiesta Hotel**

 **Evening**

Sitting in a corner of the lobby, Pally Juarez and her partner, Adam Foley, were taking the statement of the night manager, Cruz Vasco.

Pally was taking notes while she and Adam alternated asking questions. "So, the last time you saw him was when he stopped at the desk for his room key."

"In person, yes. He went to his room, and ordered from room service. Then near midnight, he asked for a wake-up call. I offered to order breakfast-he gets the same thing every day, and told him I'd bring it up myself, at seven."

Adam had been roaming around the cheaply furnished lobby, checking out the exits. He dropped onto the sofa next to her. "When he answered the door, did anything seem… out of place? Was he nervous, or anxious?"

Cruz thought for a moment. "The first two days, he greeted me at the door, fully dressed, and putting on his tie. This morning, he shouted for me to let myself in, and leave the food on the table. I went home shortly after, and when I returned in the evening, the food services supervisor told me that when they returned for the tray, no one answered the door. The waiter let himself in, and found that the tray had been knocked onto the floor. That was the only disturbance." He picked at the lint on his pants, while looking at the floor. "All his things are gone, and the bed hadn't been slept in. He was scheduled to stay another two nights, and had paid in advance." Reaching into his breast pocket, Cruz held up an odd-looking key. "He kept his passport in a safety deposit box. I checked, and it's still there. And that's not all."

That got their full attention, with Pally asking the question, "What else is in there?"

Getting to his feet, Cruz gestured toward the office. "See for yourself."

The detectives followed Cruz through the staff entrance, accessed with a key card, and into a small room lined on one wall with safety deposit boxes, and a table with two chairs on the other. There was also a plastic trashcan in the corner. It was empty. Even the plastic lining was gone.

The night manager handed over the key. "That's his. Number seven. I only touched the outside of the box. None of the contents."

Both detectives slipped on latex gloves to unlock and open the box. Adam carried the box to the table, and using just the tips of his fingers, lifted the lid. Inside, they found a small purple booklet. Pally thumbed through it, showing the pages to Adam. "The stamps are for travel to and from the Czech Republic exclusively, until page three, where he has one for Munich, and another for the US."

"Economy class from Czechia to the US makes an overnight stop in Munich, and seldom leaves on time." He reached in, and brought out a stack of cash. Some notes were from Czechia. Even more were US dollars. However, the majority of the cash had been printed in Sokovia. Pally wasn't sure of the exchange rates, but at a guess, there were several thousand.

Watching from outside the room, Cruz shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

Pally tilted the box so the rest of the items slid to the opening, not at all surprised at what they found. A set of keys, and one other object. "Probably his home and office keys." She picked up the last item, which was wrapped in terry cloth.

Cruz saw. "That's one of our guest hand towels."

She held it in her left hand. "Then there's this," with a small flourish, she flipped back the edges to reveal a small handgun and several single-stack magazines.

Adam picked the gun up, ejected the magazine, and checked the chamber. "Empty." He sniffed it. "Hasn't been fired since the last cleaning."

"Wonder why he felt the need for protection, and then kept it locked up? Who was he afraid of? Or was it to threaten someone?"

"Guess we'll find out." Adam took out his phone. "This is Detective Adam Foley of Missing Persons, badge number 1942. We need a CSU to room 307 at the Fiesta Hotel. And send us some unis to help take statements." He shut it off, and put it back in his pocket. "They'll be here soon."

To Cruz, Pally said, "In the mean time, we'd like to begin interviewing any other staff that had more than a passing interaction with our missing man."

"Of course." Cruz lingered for a moment. "I hope nothing's happened to him. He was a nice guy. Didn't tip well, but then this was his first trip to America. Quiet. Didn't disturb his neighbors, didn't make a big mess for housekeeping to clean up, kept to himself."

He started away, and Pally stopped him. "He ever have any visitors?"

"Not while _I_ was on duty, unless they came in through the bar, and went up the stairs. We have cameras on every floor. I'll have the assistant manager pull the recordings. Want them for all three days?"

Pally was busily making notes, so Adam answered. "Yes. Everything you have, including the other floors."

"Got it." Cruz hesitated, not happy with the situation. _That makes three of us_ , Pally thought. "I hope you find him." The young man took off, already talking to his boss.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Through the pain, Bucky heard Bruce talking to Natasha, and felt his gentle hands giving him a quick exam. Like before, Bruce affixed sensors to his temples, wrists, and chest. He heard the beep of the controls as they were powered up, and Bruce entered the parameters. After a few minutes that felt so much longer, the pain let up some.

Bruce touched him on the shoulder. "James, I'm going to give you a muscle relaxant. You have a high tolerance for medication, so it will be a much larger dose than normal."

"Anything. Just make it _stop_." he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Natasha."

Bucky felt her hands undo the front of his pants, and pull them down in the back to expose one butt cheek. The stick of needle was nothing compared to the agony in his chest and back. When he was hit by the opposing forces of the girls' powers, it had felt like being electrocuted and crushed at the same time.

It didn't take long for the medication to work. Within just a few minutes, Bucky was feeling less like he'd been beaten, and more like himself. He straightened his limbs, slowly, just in case the spasms were lying in wait for him to move just the wrong way, and rolled onto his back. Voices spoke softly, and he turned his head in their direction. Natasha and Bruce were standing close together near the window, his hand on her upper back, though in a comforting rather than intimate manner.

" _What did he say when you told him?_ " Bruce's tone was filled with concern.

" _Haven't said anything yet._ _His_ _health is more important at the moment_." Natasha looked up at Bruce, and smiled, giving his other hand a quick squeeze.

" _Your health is equally important, especially now_."

From what they weren't saying, Bucky inferred… what? That Natasha was seriously ill, and hadn't told him? He took a deep breath, and found that it didn't hurt except at the end of the inhale. Letting the air out slowly, he took another, not as deep, and it didn't hurt as much. "Tasha?"

His wife spun around, her eyes wide with an emotion he'd seldom seen in their green depths: fear mixed with relief as she rushed to his side. She sat on the bed, brushing the hairs from his forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"You know that old joke, 'It only hurts when I laugh'? Well, it's not funny."

A smile turned up her full lips. "You'll be better soon, my love."

Bruce appeared behind her, and his expression confirmed what she said. "There's some minor internal bruising. With your ability to heal rapidly, you should be back to your old self in a few days. No more than a week. Take it easy, and don't do anything strenuous."

"How strenuous?" Bucky wanted to know.

Grinning, Bruce came around to remove the sensors. "I'd stay away from things like stopping Nazis from taking over the world, swimming the English Channel, competing in an Iron Man competition, or playing tackle football with your grandchildren. Other than that, just be careful." He tucked the sensors into their case, and snapped it shut. "I've given Tasha a list of symptoms to look for. Call me immediately, if you experience any of them for more than an hour."

As if he hadn't heard them talking, Bucky gripped Natasha's hand tighter. "Don't worry, Bruce. I've got the best nurse in the world right here. And the kids will help out."

Bucky scooted back so he could lean against the headboard, and Natasha did her part by positioning the pillows. There was a knock at the door, and Bruce opened it to show Wanda, Pietro and Mia on the other side. Bucky was surprised that Steve wasn't at the head of the pack, but then he'd understand the need for their children to assure themselves that he was alright.

Wanda seemed to be the most distraught, wringing her hands, and leaning on her brother for comfort. "Hey. Come on in."

Glancing left and right, Wanda took tentative steps into the room, and when he smiled, she ran to him, getting down on her knees next to the bed, and hugging him around the waist with her head on his chest. "Please forgive me, Papa. This was my fault."

He stroked her hair. "There's nothing to forgive. I should know better than to try to stop a cat fight."

Scoffing, Mia came to sit on the other side of the bed. "It wasn't a cat fight, Gramps. Wanda and I were testing each other's abilities. Won't happen again."

Shaking his head, Bucky reached for Mia's hand. "No, you _should_ keep it up. As Tasha says, everyone needs to practice. How else will you learn to control your powers, and work as a team?"

Pietro crossed his arms, and leaned against the door jamb. "Don't look at me. I got knocked on my _zhopa_ for trying to stop them."

Confused with the unfamiliar term, Bucky looked at Natasha. "Ass. He got knocked on his ass."

~~O~~

Soothed by the fact that Bucky hadn't been permanently injured, or even killed, Wanda sat on the side of the bed. "Are you hungry, Papa? We have guests as well. Steve, Joi, Alice, and the dogs."

"Sure. How does Chinese sound?"

Wanda grabbed up the handset on the bedside table. "I will make the order. Do you want your usual?"

"Yes, please. And some egg drop soup."

She went out into the hall just as Steve, and his family reached the top of the stairs. "We're ordering Chinese, Steve. What would all of you like?"

They were interrupted by Natasha, who handed their phones back with a smile, along with her credit card, and returned to Bucky's side. At the edge of her hearing, Bruce and her parents were talking softly. Wanda tried to listen in, but couldn't make out what they were saying over the others giving Pietro their orders. "Hello, Black Pearl, we would like to place an order for delivery… Barnes… With a credit card… Natasha Romanoff… Yes, I know I don't sound like her, but I am her daughter… You're closed?" Wanda motioned Pietro over, and he turned his phone so she could see the display. "No, I understand, and wouldn't want you to delay going home just because we're regular customers who tip well. Please, go home to your family." Pause… "I see that the Grand Dragon is still open, so we'll give them a call… Oh, you will? Thank you. Let's start with a dozen spring rolls, four small egg drop and two wanton soups…"

As she descended the stairs, Pietro and Mia followed along. "Let's go pick it up so we can talk."

To the man on the phone, Wanda said, "Instead of delivery, we will pick it up… Are you ready for the rest of the order? It is a long one."

~~O~~

Because Natasha wouldn't let Bucky get out of bed except to go to the bathroom, the family assembled in their room, sitting on the floor, the lounge chair, and stacks of pillows. She opened the wardrobe where they kept the television, and dropped a DVD into the player. Something family friendly for the kids.

Sitting beside Bucky, Natasha watched Mia and Wanda talking, and though they behaved as if everything were copacetic, she sensed an underlying layer of tension, telling her that there was more to the story than they were just testing their powers. Whatever was going on, at least they were working it out for themselves.

Instead of wine, Natasha sipped hot decaffeinated tea with a touch of honey, and forced Bucky do the same. He griped and grumbled, but she stood firm, not wanting the alcohol to react with the meds. They asked Bruce and Thor to join them, but the men declined, stating they had plans for the evening. The Asgardian was probably spending the evening with Helen Cho. Bruce would likely return to the lab, where he'd work all night, and all day tomorrow, only stopping when he couldn't stay awake any longer.

Natasha's phone buzzed. She set her plate on the nightstand to read the incoming alert. It was _not_ good news. Instead of worrying the family, she shut the phone off, and dropped it in the nightstand drawer. They would see or hear the news soon enough. For now, she wanted them to have a pleasant evening at home, before it all went to hell yet again.

 **Iris' Home**

Leaving the back door open so Dakota could come in when he was ready, Iris returned to her room to get ready for bed. She kept her phone within reach just in case Chase returned her call. Before leaving for the night, she'd used the spare key to the IT office, and discovered that he hadn't been there for some time. His car was still in the parking lot in the same place he'd parked it this morning. Concerned that he might be in trouble, she wanted to call him again, but didn't. One voicemail was enough.

Dakota came trotting down the hall, and flopped down next to the bed. Iris went to secure the front and back doors, and program the coffeemaker for the morning.

Back in her room, she took off her slippers, and got into bed. To keep her mind off Chase, she went over the names of employees who were due for their annual review, reminding her that the staff needed new uniforms. Too many were complaining that the white shirts were difficult to keep clean and pressed. They needed something durable, and easy to wash. While she was at it, she could design a new logo.

Iris' excitement built up, sending her to the computer. Why not look into remodeling while they were at it? She found a photo online of how she imagined the new entryway, bar area and private dining room, and saved them to the folder she created for her ideas.

Using a drawing program, Iris made a few sketches. Of course, remodeling would mean closing down for a couple of weeks. If Chase agreed, the work could begin after Valentine's Day so it would be done by St. Patrick's Day.

She created a Power Point document, complete with animation. It wouldn't be ready to present to Chase for a few days, but at least it was started. As ideas occurred to her, she could add to it until she was satisfied that he would also be thrilled with the idea of making changes to the current venue rather than opening a second club.

~~O~~

Making as little noise as possible, Chase let himself into Iris' house, and shut the door. In the corner of the living room she called her home office Iris was asleep at the computer with her head pillowed on her folded arms. If she stayed that way all night, she would be stiff and sore the next day.

Dakota came to him, wagging his tail, and waiting patiently for pets. Chase squatted in front of the service dog, giving him ear rubs, and a chin scratch. When done, he carefully leaned Iris back so he could pick her up. He carried her to the bedroom, laid her on the bed, and pulled the covers up to her neck.

He returned to the living room to shut down the computer, not paying attention to what was on the screen. The program asked if he wanted to save the changes, and he told it yes.

In the hall bathroom, Chase got changed, and went to climb into bed with Iris. Staring up at the ceiling, he felt and heard Iris patting the bed, looking for him, and took hold of her hand. Tomorrow, he would tell her all about the family drama still playing out, and hope she wouldn't kick him to the curb for not sharing his misery with her the way committed couples should.

She sighed in her sleep, and it wasn't long before he joined her, never even hearing the phone vibrate with an incoming alert.

 **Channel 1 News**

The camera centered on the lead anchor, a woman in her mid-forties, well-groomed, and conservatively dressed. The bottom left of the screen gave her name as Julie Chandler.

"Welcome to Channel 1 news. I'm Julie Chandler.

"Detectives are on the scene of a possible homicide at the Howling Commandos Memorial in downtown D.C., just a few blocks from this studio.

"The body of Lazlo Novacek, a Sokovian national, was found at the base of the memorial at sunrise this morning. According to witnesses, the body was propped upright in a sitting position between the images of Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, and Sergeant First Class James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, who retired from the Army at the rank of General in 1985 after an illustrious career for which he was highly decorated."

On the green screen behind her, a live feed of the scene was projected showing law enforcement and first responders working the case. Curious onlookers were held back by uniformed officers. The ubiquitous yellow police tape surrounded the statues, also taking in a part of the park itself, and most of the sidewalk in all directions.

"Captain Rogers, you will recall, was revived in the spring of 2011 after nearly seventy years entombed in ice. He was found within the remains of the HYDRA plane he purposely ditched in the North Atlantic in 1945, to save the lives of the residents of New York City."

A film clip rolled of an interview of an older man with white hair and stooped shoulders, holding a brown and black Yorkshire Terrier with a pink bow on her head. " _Honey and I take a walk every morning at sunrise. She's very well behaved, normally, but today, she insisted on walking past the memorial, and that's when I found him, looking as if he'd just sat down for a rest_." He hugged the small dog closer. " _The whole incident has been so traumatic I'll have to make Honey an appointment with her therapist_."

The clip ended, and the live feed returned, showing a stretcher with a black body bag being loaded into the coroner's van. The camera panned the crowd, stopping on a man in a dark suit. " _We've heard from a reliable source that there are no obvious signs on the body to indicate how Mr. Novacek may have died. A spokesperson for the coroner's office indicated that it could be as much as two weeks before they release the official cause of death_." He paused, looking sorrowfully into the camera. " _Back to you, Julie_."

 **TBC**

Note: Yes, that's Stan Lee in a cameo. Our hearts and prayers go out to Mr. Lee and his family at the loss of his wife, Joan. God bless.


	102. Chapter 102

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 102**

 **The Barnes Family Home**

When the movie was over, and the leftover food had been put away, Steve and Joi said good night. Alice had fallen asleep, so Steve carried her out to the SUV, and climbed in the back seat with the child on his lap, while Joi drove them home.

Because of the late hour, Mia claimed the sofa in Bucky's den as a bed.

At the bottom of the stairs, Pietro checked the time. "We forgot about Dexter."

Wanda went to get his bottle. She warmed it in the microwave, and tested it on her wrist as she came to join her brother. "It's ready."

They reached the second floor, seeing the door to Pietro's room ajar. They'd read just the day before that sometimes male cats will kill kittens that are not their own. Fearing for Dexter, Pietro used his speed to get to his room ahead of his sister, but when she arrived, he was sitting on the floor next to Dexter's bed/playpen, smiling. He motioned her over, telling her via their link to be quiet.

She peeked into the box, and saw the most incredible sight: Ryder was curled up asleep with his front paws holding Dexter close to his chest. In the quiet of the night, they could hear the black and white cat purring. Setting the bottle on the bedside table, Wanda kissed her brother on the cheek, and went to her own room where she changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed. Pietro would feed the kitten when he was ready to eat.

Pulling the covers up to her chest, Wanda sent a soft ping to Bucky, just to see if he was telling the truth about his physical condition. _I'm fine. Really_. He was, and it filled her with relief that he hadn't been badly injured because of the argument she had with Mia. She really should've told the truth, but that would only cause more hard feelings. Best to let it all just fade away.

To calm Natasha's mind, she sent another gentle ping, and got back something not completely unexpected, though she'd thought it would take longer. She turned off the bedside lamp, and when the cats came to get in bed, she was sound asleep.

 **Prince William Forest Park**

 **After Midnight**

A figure dressed all in black trudged through the forest carrying only two things: a large bag hung crossways on the body, and a shovel. The clothing was loose and shapeless, rendering the wearing virtually genderless. He-or she-picked a spot, and got to digging. After some time, the digging stopped, and the shovel set was aside.

A laptop damaged beyond repair was dropped into the hole, followed by a stack of papers. Everything was heavily doused with accelerant, and a match dropped into the hole. The figure watched the flames dance without emotion.

Eventually, the fire went out, and the figure poked through the ashes to verify that everything had burned. Satisfied that nothing remained of the documents or the computer, the hole was filed in again.

Taking a deep breath, the individual began the long walk back to the car. Once there, a laptop came out, and was booted up. Novacek had been forced to tell this individual everything about the situation with the twins, even the parts he hadn't told Gracie. Guilt and shame for using the child to do the dirty work became entrenched in the person's mind.

 _The end justifies the means_.

Now, there was no way Novacek could take Bucky and Natasha's children away. Observation said that Wanda and Pietro were happier now than before they came to the U.S. They had a home, not just a roof over their heads, and no longer had to scrounge for food. Their adoptive parents loved them, and were loved in return. No one was taking that away from them.

Using an anonymous server, the computer at Novacek's office was accessed in order to ascertain that he'd been truthful when he said there were no other copies of the fake documents that Chase had scanned.

That brought wandering thoughts back to Gracie. Her ability to influence the thoughts of others had been discovered by accident. It was doubtful that the child even knew what she was doing. That's why it had been necessary to condition her from a young age in a variety of ways not to use her ability, such as the GPS bracelet she wore when out in public. It had been altered to act as a trigger when the child attempted to use her ability. Just in case, it could also allow her to use it when given the correct signal. Going forward, that wouldn't be necessary any longer. It was time to send the last of the embedded triggers that would put the conditioning into place that told her little-girl mind to forget she had the ability to influence others.

The computer beeped, and words flowed across the screen, indicating that Novacek had told the truth when he said that the documents were not in his work computer. But he could've made copies, and it would be bad for everyone if they were discovered.

Tapping a few keys sent a powerful electrical surge through Novacek's computer, shorting it out, and causing a fire. With the fire suppressant system turned off, the fire wouldn't be discovered until it had consumed the entire building. It was the only way to make certain that nothing remained of the false documents.

Watching the scene through the eyes of a security camera across the street from Novacek's office, the individual in black wished that it hadn't come to this. It was true that life wasn't fair, but this evened the odds a little in favor of the Barnes patriarch, his wife, and their kids.

When the fire department arrived, the laptop was turned off, and put aside. The car started, and drove out of the park via the only road that had no traffic cameras. The driver drove onto the Ox Road Bridge where it crossed over the Occoquan River, and stopped at its highest point.

The driver got out, laptop in hand, and stood looking down at the dark water below. All that remained was to get rid of the computer, and to ditch the car that had been procured illegally.

Holding the laptop over the water, the person took a deep breath, and let go. It hit with a satisfying splash. Because the bridge was more than twenty feet above the water, it was unlikely that it would survive, especially after the hard drive was exposed to the water and natural elements.

Getting back into the car, the seatbelt was buckled, and the vehicle pulled off the bridge onto the Lorton, Virginia side of the river just as a state trooper came the other way.

 **Iris' Home**

The smell of coffee and breakfast cooking drew Iris down the hall to the kitchen where she found Chase at the stove with Dakota at his feet, patiently waiting for the occasional tidbit to be tossed his way.

"Hey." He looked over at her, and smiled. "You must've gotten in late last night."

One shoulder lifted and dropped. "You should talk. Found you asleep in front of the computer."

Iris took the few steps to his side. "And you carried me to bed. My hero." She turned her face up for a kiss. "What're you making?"

"My skills are limited when it comes to cooking. Scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, and coffee."

"Mmm. Smells yummy."

Chase pointed the spatula at her. "Don't say that until you've tasted it." He used the spatula to point at the dining room table. A piece of egg fell to the floor, and Dakota gobbled it up. "Have a seat. It's almost ready."

She seated herself at the head of the table, draped the napkin over her lap, and sipped coffee while waiting for Chase to join her.

Dakota came running just ahead of Chase to take up a position between their chairs. Seeing Chase moving around her home as if he belonged there put all sorts of ideas in her head. She just had to find out if he, maybe, had the same ideas.

He set two plates on the table, and sat down. "It's not much, but I wanted to make up for being an a-hole again."

"It's understandable, Chase. You're close to your family, so when they have a crisis, you have a crisis."

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." He reached for her hand. "Drama seems to be the new norm with the Barnes clan lately. And I want to tell you about it. Because we're a couple, we should be sharing all the ups and downs together." He grinned ruefully. "At least that's what I've been told."

Iris laughed, and picked up her fork. "Don't look at me. You know how it was between Oscar and me. We just weren't the sharing couple we should've been." She looked down at her plate. "Later, when we get to the office, I have a few ideas for the club I want to go over with you. For now, let's hear the latest on the soap opera that is your life."

The smile on Chase's face dimmed. "This had to do with Gramps and Natasha's adoption of Wand and Pietro. There are some things I can't tell, just because I don't know all the details, but I'll give you what I have."

He gave a quick overview before getting into the details of this latest near-fiasco, and Iris listened without saying a word, making no judgments. Just taking it all in, learning more about Chase's family dynamic during this conversation than she had in all the weeks they'd been sharing an office and a bed.

Suddenly, Dakota jumped up, and ran down the hall. He came back momentarily, carrying Chase's cell phone in his mouth. Chase went to the kitchen to clean the dog drool off, and came back, reading the screen.

He stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide with shock, and a little fear. Without a word, he grabbed the remote, and turned on the television, tuning it to a local news channel.

"… _we'll continue to update you on the unexplained death of Sokovian national Lazlo Novacek as the story develops. And now, here's Miriam Akhtar with the weather_ …"

The screen went black, and Chase tossed the remote on the coffee table. One hand rubbed his hair as he paced back and forth.

Iris came into the living room. "Chase, is something wrong?"

He stopped his nervous pacing, and wouldn't look at her. "Yeah. Novacek is dead."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Sitting in the chair by the window, Natasha watched the falls leaves fluttering in the breeze, and sighed. Checking that the bathroom door was closed, she pulled something from the pocket of her robe, and opened it. The middle was creased from being folded and unfolded many times. She'd read the information printed there over and over, still stunned. The shower stopped, and she quickly pushed the page back into her pocket before James came out.

The message Natasha had gotten during the movie had to be addressed, and soon. Novacek was dead, and she had to know if a member of the family had killed him. Not that she'd turn them in to the authorities. She just wanted to know who to thank for stopping the man from taking her kids.

Of all of them, the only one she could say for certain hadn't done the deed was herself. She'd been out on a long run at the estimated time of death, but had no way to prove it. And because she wasn't home, she couldn't provide an alibi for James or the twins, or they for her. Of course, the twins had snuck out of the house that same night, and still hadn't said where they'd gone. But she refused to believe that either of them could've committed murder, especially one that would throw suspicion on the entire family.

They might get lucky, and the medical examiner could determine that Novacek had killed himself. Allowing his body to be found at the Howling Commandos Memorial could've been his way of sending a message to the police that Steve, James, or that the whole family had been involved.

The bathroom light went out, the door opened, and James came out wearing only a towel. Water still clung to the black hairs on his chest, in his beard, and hair. To her, he looked like a vision of the Greek god Poseidon coming out of the sea, weaving his spell, drawing her in.

Before she knew what she was doing, Natasha was in his arms, kissing him, and wanting him so badly she ached all over. It was the good kind of ache that led to physical intimacy between two people. She wanted her husband, and she would have him!

Natasha stepped out of his arms, taking his hands, and pulling him toward the bed. He wanted her too. It was there in his eyes, darkened with desire. She let her intent be known by tugging the corner of the towel loose, and pushing it to the floor at his feet. And when she reached for him, he stopped her by holding onto her wrists.

"What are you doing?"

One side of her mouth turned up. "I would've thought that was obvious, husband."

"But Bruce said not to exert myself for the next week."

To shut him up, she kissed him again. "Don't worry. I'll do all the work, with the occasional input from you, of course."

Natasha quickly untied the belt of her robe and pushed it off her shoulders showing that she wore nothing underneath. James' eyes roamed over her body with such intensity, it was almost like a physical touch. And this time, when she reached out for him, he wrapped her in his strong embrace, and tumbled them onto the bed.

The world spun, making her dizzy, and then she was looking up into the handsome face of her husband grinning. "That's not how I roll, and you know it."

Wrapping her ankles around his thighs, Natasha urged James over onto his back. "I told Bruce that I'd take good care of you, and I wouldn't want him to think I lied."

James let his arms fall away, his hands caressing her hips and thighs, one eyebrow inched up his forehead. "Then, just like the first time I set eyes on you, I surrender to your charms, my wife."

Her heart swelling with love, Natasha adjusted her position, eliciting a groan from deep in James' chest. "Just lie there and enjoy it. I know _I'm_ going to."

~~O~~

Dressing as quickly as she could, Wanda left her room, sending a ping to Pietro, telling him to get dressed and join her. He came into the hallway while she was tying the laces of her boots.

He covered a yawn with his hand as they ran down the stairs, and out the front door. "Where are we going, and why are we going there so early?"

"I had to get out of the house, so we're going down to the Java Hut for breakfast."

"But why? I was having a pleasant dream when you woke me." Reluctant to say it out loud, she sent a ping. "Oh."

To take her mind off the fact that she'd been sensing their parents being amorous, Wanda sent a text to let them know that she and Pietro had taken a walk. "Too bad there isn't a way for me to be farther away from them at times like this. It's difficult to shut them out, the feelings they have for each other are so powerful."

Pietro draped his arm around her shoulders. "Hopefully, it will be the same for us, when the time is right."

She poked him in the ribs, and he let go. "This is not a subject I wish to discuss with my brother."

They arrived at the diner. Pietro opened the door, and ushered her in ahead of him. "I'm sure other topics will come up." They gave their order, and Wanda paid for both of them, while Pietro secured them a table.

The shop wasn't designed well. The tables were too close together. Just by moving her eyes, she could see everything on the tablet being used by the man at the next table, facing away from her. Nothing interesting. Just sports, mostly. She thought about trading seats with Pietro, but that would cause more trouble than it was worth.

Pietro finished off his first breakfast sandwich while Wanda sat there thinking about all that had happened in the last two days. Her brother tapped her foot with his to get her attention, speaking in Sokovian. "Do not worry. Natasha and James will figure it out, and we won't have to go back."

"I know." Sighing, Wanda sipped her tea, and just held the cup, letting the warmth seep into her hands. "We should tell them what we were doing the night we snuck out."

"Let's not talk about it." He picked up his second breakfast sandwich. "Will you be going to the Winter Prom with Lionel?"

Shy about discussing her budding relationship with a boy from the school where they attended PE classes, Wanda twitched her shoulders. "I am not sure. He has not asked. I have been talking with several of my female friends, and we discussed going… they called it stag. Without dates. Many of the young men do the same. What about you and…"

"Jessa? Perhaps. We are supposed to have a date for the movies in two weeks. It's a good thing that the Halloween party is the week before." Pietro drank down the last of his hot cocoa. "When we are talking, I get the feeling that Jessa only spends time with me because she knows that we are related to Captain America."

"That's sad, and so superficial. If she does not like you for yourself, then she isn't worthy of your time."

While her brother was chewing over her words, and a bite of food, Wanda glanced at the man's tablet again. This time he was watching a live news report from in front of the Howling Commandos Memorial they'd visited several weeks ago. She grabbed Pietro's hand, drawing his attention. He pulled free in order to use his phone to look up the same report. What they read sent them hurrying from the shop toward home.

When they were out of sight, Pietro picked her up, and they were home within seconds, calling out for their parents.

~~O~~

Natasha flopped down on the bed next to Bucky, both breathing hard, and perspiring. He pulled her close, and kissed her temple. "Mmm. That was amazing. I can truthfully say that life with you is never dull, my love."

She rolled over on top of him, her head on his shoulder, and one hand resting over his heart. "It's about to get even more interesting."

The whispered conversation he overheard came back to him. He wanted to ask her about it, but didn't. She would tell him soon enough. If it didn't happen in the next couple of days, he'd take the initiative. "Interesting is good." One hand skimmed up and down her bare back. "We need to figure out what to do about Novacek."

Lifting her head, his wife touched him on the cheek. "Let's get a shower first, and talk about it while we get dressed."

~~O~~

Sitting on the side of the bed tying his shoes, Bucky watched Natasha tug on a pair of warm socks then go to the closet for her sneakers. She sat on the foot of the bed to put them on, seemingly lost in thought.

"In your expert opinion, who do you think might have done it?" he asked.

"I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

He went to the vanity for the brush, passing it to his wife. "It's only natural, even if being an assassin wasn't your day job."

Natasha surprised him by laughing. "You say that as if I were an accountant or a school teacher."

"They change the world in their own way, just like you do." Reaching out, he took her by the hand, pulling her into his arms. "We have to tell the kids."

Her small hands rubbed up and down his biceps. "They probably already know. I heard them go out earlier."

The front door opened, and slammed, the kids calling out, "Natasha! James!"

They sounded frantic, and scared, as they ran up the steps, meeting Bucky and Natasha outside their door. The kids wrapped them in a dual hug, holding on tight. They urged the kids away, though they kept hold of their hands. Wanda blurted out, "Novacek. He-he is dead, Natasha."

Pietro added his voice to hers. "We did not do it! Please believe us."

Bucky and Natasha led them back downstairs to the living room, to sit on the sofa. "Yes, we believe you," he told them gently. "We never thought you did."

Without saying a word, or changing anything about herself, Bucky knew that Natasha had figured out where the twins had gone the night they went out. "You went to his hotel, didn't you?"

Unable to meet her eyes, boy and girl looked at their laps, and nodded, Pietro speaking for them. "We only wanted to know who had really sent him for us, and why."

"But we didn't even go inside the hotel."

Natasha and Bucky shared a look of confusion. "Why not? You could've gotten the information without even speaking to him, Wanda."

The twins held each other's hands. "We didn't go in because we saw Justin coming out. He got on his motorcycle, and drove off," Pietro told them.

"Pietro followed him while I waited at the hotel."

"I believe he knew I was there, because he just drove around for a while then stopped to make a phone call. After that, he drove to a restaurant, parked, and went inside." He looked up. "I didn't go after him."

Wanda finally looked up. "Are you still angry with us?"

"Yes, a little. But don't do it again." Bucky held Wanda's hand, and Natasha held Pietro's, once again completing a circle. And as before, a whirlwind of images flashed through his head, only now he knew, or at least suspected, that it had something to do with Wanda's powers. They let go, and it stopped.

An alarm went off, and the twins jumped to their feet. "We must feed Dexter again," Wanda declared. "He is being cared for by Ryder, and sometimes Priscilla. I think they think he's their baby."

Pietro went into the kitchen for the bottle, and raced up the stairs after Wanda. His bedroom door slammed a second later.

Together, Natasha and Bucky sat on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders, and her hand on his thigh. With the kids out of the way, he decided it was time to find out what was going on. "Tasha, I heard you and Bruce talking yesterday. Is something wrong? Are you sick?"

"Sick?" She got an odd look in her eyes. "If you mean terminal, no. It can wait until we take care of the Novacek problem."

Resigned, he got up, and went into the kitchen for a drink. He reached for a beer, and Natasha slapped his hand. Mock scowling at her, he instead poured himself a glass of orange juice, and leaned against the counter to drink it, watching his wife chew her lip in thought. "Aren't you going to ask if I killed Novacek?"

"You didn't." Natasha's voice carried such conviction, that he smiled.

"How do you know? At the inn, I wanted to so badly, but then I thought about how good my life is, and how committing a murder, no matter what the motive, would take that all away." He shook his head. "And I… I just couldn't do it."

She paced to the other side of the kitchen and back. "So none of us, the ones with the most to lose, did the deed. We also know for a fact that Justin's innocent. That leaves Chase and Mia."

"What about the rest of the family? No suspects there?"

"Several, but I don't consider them strong suspects. Steven James has the scientific background to create a poison or chemical that would do the work. My contact at Metro PD tells me that there were no visible signs of trauma, and the toxicology report came back negative for drugs or chemicals that could've caused his death. Chase is a computer expert like Carolyn. They might be able to program a computer or even his phone to kill him, but it would leave external traces."

They moved back to the living room sofa. "Steve's not the subtle type. If he wanted to kill someone, he'd just do it. And Joi… we're back to poisoning, or if she happened to know he had an allergy, she could've put something in his food. Again, not likely."

Natasha crossed her knees. "And then there's Mia, but I'm not convinced she did it. An electrical shock strong enough to kill someone would leave marks on the body, same as with death by computer."

"And that leaves us with what?" Bucky asked.

"Natural causes, an act of God, or someone outside the family with the knowhow to not leave any forensic evidence." Natasha got up to pace again, arms crossed, fingers drumming on her biceps, once again biting her lip. Suddenly, she stopped, and faced him. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

Crossing his arms in imitation of his wife, Bucky gave her a pointed looked. "I doubt that, but let's here the new theory."

"The Winter Soldier." Taken aback, Bucky could only stare. "Think about it. You got away, and so did Justin. HYDRA needs a new assassin, so they went out and got one."

"Just like that?"

She shook her head and started moving again. "They had to have a back-up plan in place if you or Justin were killed. Just the fact that they spent seventy years inside SHIELD without getting caught shows us that they have far-reaching plans for world domination. Why not for this?"

"So some schmuck off the street could've been made into the Winter Soldier, like Justin and I were."

"They wouldn't be able to use just anyone. HYDRA would find someone with the necessary skills plus a compatible genetic structure…"

He shifted on the sofa, his train of thought beginning to travel in the same direction as hers. "When we were captured by Schmidt's men, they separated us randomly, or so it seemed at the time. But now, I think it was according a plan, because they took blood before locking us in cages. Many men were taken away, and we never saw them again. Others came back, but were never the same." Thinking about the past made Bucky feel emotions he thought were long buried. Getting to his feet, he roamed around the room. "They had to have been Zola's failures." He faced her, and saw that they were standing in identical poses. Arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart, and a determined scowl on their faces. "Think anyone will buy this load of crap?"

"To quote Sherlock Holmes, 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' And while it's not _impossible_ that a member of the family killed Novacek, it is highly _improbable_."

Footsteps on the stairs diverted their attention to the kids. They stopped at the entrance to the living room, their faces unreadable. At least to Bucky. "What's up?"

The twins shared a glance, and Pietro took a half step forward. "We heard you talking, and have decided that it is time you were told how we acquired our abilities."

"First, you must know…" Wanda wrapped her hand around Pietro's arm, and he patted it comfortingly, "Most of what we told you about ourselves…" She looked away, unable to continue.

Taking his role as the older sibling to heart, Pietro raised his chin, and looked them both in the eye. "We lied."

 **TBC**


	103. Chapter 103

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 103**

That their children had lied to them didn't come as a shock to Natasha. In fact, it would've been odd if they hadn't. They were teenagers after all. Lying was part of the job description.

Pietro gestured for them to sit on the sofa. "It is true that we were orphaned at the age of ten. And it is also true that the authorities attempted to split us up."

"But we didn't run away from the foster home a few months ago, Natasha. When you came along, we had lived on the streets for _years_ , hiding in abandoned buildings, stealing what we needed, and sometimes even begging just to stay alive one more day. That is until almost two years ago."

Stunned, but keeping it to herself, Natasha held Bucky's hand. "What happened?"

"We heard that there was a secret laboratory in the old castle at the north end of Novi Grad, and of the experiments they did there. Because we were desperate…" Pietro paused, and Wanda took up the thread.

"There was and is so much misery in Sokovia that we volunteered for von Strucker's experiments, willing to risk our lives to acquire the means to protect ourselves and others from the ones who prey on those too weak to fight back. And even if the experiments had failed, at least for a while, we had a warm bed, a roof over our heads that wouldn't collapse at any moment, clothing, and food." As if he'd used all his strength telling the story, Pietro sat heavily in the armchair.

Wanda leaned against the chair, her eyes on the floor. "There is also the matter of our age. We are not fourteen, as you were told when you brought us to America."

Natasha felt Bucky's fingers flex slightly. As always, he was careful not to hurt her with his enhanced strength. "Then how old are you?"

Pietro leaned an elbow on his thighs, rubbing the other hand through is silver hair. "The date of our birth _is_ May 10th. That much is true. However, it is the year that is incorrect."

Taking a step forward, Wanda lifted her chin, almost defiantly. "We are seventeen."

 **Iris' Home**

 **Morning**

Unwilling to see the accusations in Iris' eyes, Chase refused to look at her, even when she tugged on his sleeve. She clamped her hand around his arm, and pulled. Still, he kept his face averted.

"Chase! Look at me!"

She was stubborn. It was one of the things he loved about her, this tenaciousness. Reluctantly, he let their eyes meet, and in hers, where he thought would be an indictment of his probable actions, he saw devotion, and something that looked like affection. But he could be wrong. "You want to know if I did it, if I killed him."

"If I thought you were the kind of man who would do that, I'd never have taken the job, _or_ slept with you." Chase faced her fully, those brown eyes begging him to believe. "If it comes down to it, I'll stand with you, but I won't lie."

He lifted her high, the cane falling to the floor with a thump. "And I wouldn't expect you to perjure yourself on my behalf." Hugging her tight, he whispered in her ear, "I want us to be together."

"We _are_."

"No, I mean _really_ together, as in sharing a living space, making it ours." Words wouldn't come for Iris, but that didn't seem to bother him. "If you want that too, then we should make some sort of formal commitment."

Iris took her hands from around his neck, and gripped his shoulders. "Put me down first." As if he'd only just realized that she couldn't touch the floor, Chase carefully put her down, keeping hold of her so she wouldn't fall as they moved to the sofa. "Next, I need some clarity on what you mean by commitment. Are we talking _just_ living together, or…"

"Living together _and_ being engaged?" One arm wrapped around her back to hold her close. "If that's what you want."

"What do _you_ want?" Placing a hand on his cheek, Iris turned him to face her, needing to see his eyes. " _Do_ you want to get married? I don't mean now, or even this year, but eventually?"

Chase tilted his head to the side, like a dog trying to work out what its human was saying. "Yes, I do. And if that's a proposal, Iris Castillo, I accept." He kissed her soundly.

"Let's call it a pre-proposal."

"Then I pre-accept. Did you get me a pre-engagement ring?"

She lightly slapped his shoulder. "Silly! We should live together for a while before we decide when to get married." One side of her mouth turned up. "My first try at matrimony was a disaster. I want the next one to last longer than the fresh vegetables in my refrigerator."

"It _will_ be different this time. I promise." He leaned to the side, rummaging around in the end table drawer, coming out with a small, flat box. "To celebrate this milestone, I got you this. Well, I got it for the next step in this weird and wonderful relationship: the expensive jewelry phase."

He opened the box, and her mouth dropped open. Inside, nestled within a cottony bed of white fluff lay a gold necklace with one large, and two smaller bezel-set diamonds, and a pair of matching dangle earrings.

Turning her back, Iris waited impatiently for him to put the necklace on. Getting to her feet, she went to the mirror by the front door, and he came up behind her, holding the box so she could put on the earrings. "Oh, Chase! They're beautiful."

His arms went around her waist, holding her against his chest, and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You make them look beautiful."

She reached back to touch his cheek, smiling at their reflection, and the picture they made. In her mind, Iris felt they fit together like two pieces of an intricate puzzle that in turn, was part of a bigger puzzle that was their families. Whether they married or not, she and Andre finally had the large family they'd always wanted.

Turning within the circle of his arms, Iris lightly rubbed her hands up and down his arms. "I haven't felt attractive in a long time, Chase. Not since before the accident. Thank you."

"Well, you are. And I'll fight anyone who says different." He pressed his lips to hers, sweetly. "Let's get to work. We'll go out to dinner tonight to discuss _me_ moving in, and your brother moving out."

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Missing Persons**

Adam returned to his desk facing Pally's. "We got the green light to continue the investigation into this guy Novacek's death, but only because we did time in homicide before coming to missing persons."

"Good, 'cause I've been viewing the recordings from the hotel, and found something interesting." She handed him a couple of screenshots. "Does the man sitting in the corner look familiar?"

"Yeah, he does. Any idea how they know each other?"

Grinning, Adam's partner turned her computer so he could see the document displayed. "An inkling. It's his grandfather and step-grandmother who are the ones acquainted with the deceased. Guess how?"

Huffing, he reached for his computer. "Not in the mood, Pal."

"Novacek was the caseworker who facilitated their adoption of orphaned fraternal twins from Sokovia, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff."

 **Rey's Condo**

Whoever was knocking on her door was a sadist. That was the only reason Rey could think of that they'd keep knocking when it was obvious that no one was going to answer. She sat up, and threw the blanket off, shoved her feet into slippers, and shuffled from the sofa to the front door with a box of tissues tucked in the crook of one arm. Looking out the peephole, she groaned. _What the hell are they doing here again? Haven't they caused enough trouble?_

They knocked again, her head pounding with every impact. Rey unlocked the three deadbolts, and opened the door, making sure to blow her nose loudly, and cough. Easy, when you couldn't stop.

"Ms. Medina, we're…"

"You're those detectives. The ones who thought I killed Justin." The partners had the decency to look embarrassed. "Whaddya want this time?"

Their badges were put away, the woman starting them off. "We need to speak to Justin Lockwood."

She huffed, and stepped back. "Not here." When she tried to close the door, the man's hand stopped it. She felt a sneeze coming on, and didn't try to hold it in, letting the spray go into the air. It had the desired effect of forcing the detectives to jump back to keep from getting hit. "I'll speak slowly so you understand. Justin does _not_ _live_ _here_. He hasn't lived here in a couple of months."

Again, Rey tried to close the door, and again the detective put his hand up to stop it. "Can you tell us where he's living now?"

"Yes, I can, but why should I do your job for you?" They didn't have an answer for that. "Now if you don't mind, I've been sick for a couple of days. I'm coughing, sneezing, every part of my body aches, including a few I'd forgotten about, and it's time for me to throw up again."

This time, they didn't try to stop her. Unfortunately, she was telling the truth. She hurried down the hall to the bathroom, and barely made it over the toilet before what little she'd eaten came back up.

Rey flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and rinsed her mouth. Holding onto the wall, she shuffled back out to the sofa, and lay down. She finally admitted that she needed to see the doctor, but was too weak to drive herself. The phone was buried under a pile of tissues. Before using it, she wiped the entire surface with a wet wipe. Her call was answered on the third ring. "Chase? Sorry to bother you, but can you come take me to the doctor? Okay, thanks. I'll call the office and set up an appointment ASAP… Because you're the only person I know who's never had the flu… I'll send you a text with the time… Thanks. You're the best."

 **Tunnel Vision**

When Rey's text came in, Chase was ready. He put on his jacket, kissed Iris good-bye, and hurried out the door. Rey was right. Neither he nor Justin had ever had the flu. He knew she didn't want to see his brother. She also wouldn't want to get her other friends sick, so he was the obvious choice.

Less than an hour later, he helped her into a waiting room full of sick people, putting her as far from them as he could while he went to check in. "Reya Medina. She has an appointment to see the doctor."

"Of course." The receptionist slid a clipboard through the window. "Have her fill these out, and sign and initial in the places indicated. I also need to make a copy of her insurance info and driver's license."

Chase carried the clipboard back to Rey, and filled it out with her input. He held it so she could sign her name, and carried it back with the requested cards. "How long will this take? She's barely able to sit up she's so weak."

"I'm not sure. It's flu season. Everyone's sick. Just have a seat, and we'll call you."

The receptionist closed the window, thereby ending the conversation. Chase sat next to Rey, putting an arm around her shoulders, and letting her lean on him.

It seemed like forever before the nurse called them in. Because Rey was so weak, Chase helped her to the exam room, and returned to the waiting area.

~~O~~

After the nurse finished asking a thousand and one questions, Rey lay down on the exam table, and used her jacket to cover up. She was about to fall asleep when the doctor came in carrying her file. He skipped the small talk, and she silently thanked him for the gesture.

"Well, Ms. Medina, it's as we suspected. You have the stomach flu."

"Oh, yay. Just gimme a couplea pills, and I'll go home to wallow in misery in the privacy of my own home."

The doctor sat on the rolling chair, and crossed his legs. "'Fraid that's not possible. Antiviral medication has to be taken within forty-eight hours of the onset of symptoms. It says here you experienced vomiting beginning three days ago."

"So how long before I'm well enough to go back to work?"

"Three days, maybe four. However, yours is a special case, so I'm recommending bed rest, chicken soup, tea with honey and lemon, crackers, toast, and acetaminophen for the fever. When you're feeling better, start adding other foods back into your diet, though I'd hold off on anything spicy for at least a week."

He jotted everything down, and passed her the sheet. Rey looked at it blearily. Chase would get everything for her while she waited in the car. "Why can't I take one of the over-the-counter flu remedies?"

"As I said, you're a special case, Ms. Medina."

A wave of dizziness spun the room, and she closed her eyes until it stopped. "How am I different from the tens of thousands of other flu sufferers, doctor?"

The look he gave her was unreadable. He flipped the file closed, and stood. "Because, Ms. Medina, you're pregnant."

 **Justin's Apartment**

Dexter had only been asleep a few minutes when there was a knock. Without checking, Justin opened the door to find the same two detectives who'd come to Rey's condo to give him the third degree on where he'd been for more than two years. He wasn't in the mood to talk to them, but now that they knew he was home, the choice had been taken away from him. "What now, detectives?"

Taking their badges out must be an automatic thing. They put them away, and he opened the door wide to invite them in. He rushed to move Dexter's playpen into the bedroom so he wouldn't be disturbed, and came back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting for them to speak.

"We have video of you at the Fiesta Hotel on the night that a man by the name of Lazlo Novacek disappeared. His body was found this morning at the Howling Commandos Memorial in downtown D.C."

"I saw the television coverage."

Juarez took out her pad and pen. "Why were you at the Fiesta Hotel?"

He shrugged, pulled out a dining room chair, and sat down. "Is there a law against hanging out in the public areas of hotels? If so, then there are millions of people all over the world breaking the law as we speak. Oh, and if you look at the surveillance footage, you'll see that I never left the lobby. Not even to use the restroom. I did take advantage of the free coffee though."

Foley took his turn not answering questions. It was old long before he was born. "Where did you go afterwards? The security and traffic cameras show you leaving, and that's the last anyone saw of you until well after noon the next day."

"You wanna know where I was?" Justin sighed wearily, and stood, gesturing for them to follow him to the door. "See that white van across the street?"

From the look on Juarez's face, she'd noticed it on the way in. "What about it?"

Justin tucked his thumbs into his belt, and shifted his weight to one foot. "Just ask the news crew hiding inside. They've been following me around since I embarrassed their star reporter, Christine Everhart. Been at it for weeks. Her minions have it all on film. Ask them what I was doing all night."

Without another word, Justin went back inside, and slammed the door, putting an end to what could've been a lengthy interrogation. He rather liked using the cops to get rid of a nuisance. Oh, he could've avoided Christine and her posse if he wanted to, but then it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun as knowing the frustration he caused by not doing anything worth writing about when they were around.

Taking his jacket from the closet and his lunch bag from the refrigerator, Justin covered Dexter's playpen, and left for work, dropping the kitten at Olivia's on the way to the job site. They were done knocking things down and carting the pieces away, so that left the actual rebuilding to do. Too bad, because Justin really could've used something to work off his frustrations, with Christine Everhart, his family, Rey, and just general discontent with his life. Dexter was the one thing that didn't annoy him in some way.

~~O~~

When he got home with Dexter, Justin found a voice mail from Marshall asking if he wanted to see a Redskins game this weekend. He explained that he usually went with his sister or a date, but neither was available so that left a friend. Thinking it might help him to feel better to cheer on his favorite football team while heckling the referees, he agreed.

Dexter's mews drew him out of his funk. He sat next to the box, watching Dexter climb over the side to land on the carpet. He rolled onto his back, wiggling and crying until he was upright again, shook his head and sat down, looking up at Justin as if he hung the moon. Then the kitten roamed around the room on wobbly legs, stopping to sniff random spots on the carpet, a sock that was missed, Justin's work boots, and the door stop.

He came back, uncertain at first how to climb into his lap. Justin took pity on the little thing, and picked him up for a cuddle. "Hey, little guy. When you get big enough, we'll go to the park, for walks outside, and play with toys. If you want, I'll get you one of those cat tree things like Gramps and Nat's cats have. You can even sleep with me."

His phone beeped with an incoming text. Chuckling, he held it so Dexter could see. "Your Aunt Wanda and Uncle Pietro want to know when you're coming to visit again. Looks like you made an impression on the kids and their cats, especially Ryder." The kitten snuggled up to his neck, seemingly bored with it all. "Do you think I killed that mean ol' Mr. Novacek? He wanted to take your aunt and uncle away, and we couldn't let that happen. If you have any sage advice to impart about what to do about it, let me know."

The phone erupted with Chase's ringtone. He was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but that would be selfish and petty, not wanting to talk to his twin just because he thought Chase might've been the one to take Novacek's life. "Lockwood."

" _Justin, it's Iris_."

Relieved, he smiled. She had a pretty voice to go with that pretty face. "Hey. Don't tell me. He forgot his phone again."

" _Yes, he did. Good thing, because I need to talk to you_."

"What about?"

There was fumbling in the background then Iris was back, this time on speaker phone. " _There was an incident at the club the other night_."

Carrying the phone with him, Justin went into the bedroom to check on Dexter. He was awake, and had nearly made it over the side of the box. "Why call _me_? Chase is in charge of all things Tunnel Vision."

The cessation of background noises told him that she'd closed the office door so their conversation would be somewhat private. " _A man tried to bully his way into the club. Not a good idea if you've seen our new head of security. Said he knew you_." Justin couldn't think of anyone who would try to bluster his way into the club by dropping his name. Iris continued, as if he'd asked the question. " _His name was Sean. Didn't give a last name, but was sure you'd want to see him. Do you know him?_ "

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. After all this time, why would his ex suddenly show up at the club, a place he avoided like the plague unless he wanted something, like money, or free food and booze? "I guess you could say that. Did he leave a number, or say where he was staying?"

" _No. He was being just a pain in the ass, I told him he could come in if he behaved, or I could have security show him out_."

Stifling a laugh, Justin held Dexter in his arms, softly stroking his back, neck and head. "Didn't like being given the bum's rush, did he?"

" _Let's just say he stalked off in a huff of epic proportions and leave it at that_." Iris tapped her fingers on the desk. " _What should I tell him if he comes back?_ "

"Not a _damn_ thing. Do _not_ give him my number or tell him where I'm living now."

" _You got it_." Justin heard the smile in Iris' voice, and it made him feel better about knowing Sean was back in D.C. " _Gotta go. They need me on the floor_."

Iris hung up the phone, and Justin left his lying on the bedside table. _What the hell is Sean doing back, and why now?_

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Natasha and Bucky stared at the kids then at each other, and back to the kids. Together, they crossed their arms. "This changes things," Natasha commented, her expression serious. "A lot."

"Yes, it does," Bucky agreed.

The twins looked scared, and Natasha was certain they thought this was the end, that they'd be sent back to Sokovia. Not happening! "Their curfew on school nights is changed from nine to ten."

Bucky nodded sagely, one hand to his chin. "Midnight on weekends and holidays. We'll have to teach them to drive, and they'll want their own cars, of course."

"Naturally. Their classes at the school will have to be changed to put them with their peer group." Natasha brightened. "They're old enough to get part-time jobs, meaning we can reduce their allowances."

Confused, the twins just stared at them with their mouths open.

"We should get Clint on those bedroom renovations right away," Bucky reminded her.

"Right. I'd forgotten about that. I'll give him a call this weekend, and…"

Pietro jumped to his feet. "Wait!" Natasha and Bucky just blinked at him. "You're not sending us back?"

Again, Natasha and Bucky looked at each other, and back to the kids. "Why would we do that? You're our children. We _will_ get your date of birth corrected though. Other than that…"

Before they could even blink, the twins had them in a hug as best they could, sitting on the sofa.

"Thank you!" Pietro kissed Natasha, and Wanda kissed Bucky on the cheek before heading upstairs.

They were halfway up when Natasha called them back. "Wait. There's something I need to tell all of you."

~~O~~

Now that the attention was all on her, Natasha wanted to speak to Bucky alone. With her ability to sense emotions, Wanda probably already knew what she was going to say. And if Wanda knew, then so did Pietro. That meant only Bucky needed to be brought into their little loop.

She gestured for the kids to sit with their father. From the look on his face, he knew what was coming.

"The other day, I left on a mission that would only take the day to complete. But that didn't happen." Pacing to one side of the room, Natasha, crossed her arms. "I passed out, and woke up in the Medical Bay with Bruce leaning over me. He did some tests, and…"

Bucky stood, all his good humor gone. "Just tells us, is it serious?"

Dipping one hand into her back pocket, she brought out a folded sheet. "Oh, it's serious alright."

He looked at the kids, who nodded. "Whatever it is, Tasha, we'll get through it together."

Natasha couldn't help it. She laughed, and not just because of the look on his face. It was the sound of awe and happiness mixed with "I still can't believe this is happening". She held out the sheet. "Damn right we will. Look at it."

Confused, Bucky carefully unfolded what turned out to be a photo, his mouth dropped open, and the hand holding it began to shake. "Is-is this what I think it is?"

For one of the few times in her life, Natasha teared up. "You knocked me up, soldier." She made a gesture that included all four of them. "We're having a baby."

 **TBC**


	104. Chapter 104

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 104**

 **Doctor's Office**

Rey sat up on the end of the exam table. "That's not possible, doctor. Your lab made a _mistake_. I've been taking my pills every day at the same time, without fail."

He flipped through her file again. "I had them do the test twice to be sure. We recently treated you for an inner ear infection. Antibiotics can reduce the effectiveness of some forms of birth control. I recommend that you see your OB-GYN as soon as possible, just to confirm our findings."

When he was gone, Rey got to her feet, holding onto the exam table through another wave of dizziness. To prove the doctor wrong, she made an appointment with Dr. Shroyer for next week, so she'd be over the flu before going. The birth control pills she was taking were for a medical condition. Plus, she couldn't tolerate some of the long-term birth control medications. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't experienced her cycle yet this month. Until now, it hadn't been a big deal because she'd skipped a few months here and there with this particular medication, as Dr. Shroyer said she would.

Holding onto the walls, she managed to reach the waiting room on her own. Chase jumped up to help her out to the car, where she spent the drive to the grocery store staring out the window. _They made a_ _mistake_ _. This_ _can't_ _be happening. Not now. I'm not ready to have a baby_.

Chase came back, arms laden with bags. He set them in the back seat, and got behind the wheel. Rey jerked when he touched her on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sort of." Rey turned to look at him. "I don't just have the stomach flu, Chase."

"No?"

She shook her head slowly to keep from getting dizzy. "I'm pregnant."

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Missing Persons**

Being a good partner, Adam set a cup of decaf in front of Pally, and pulled a chair up next to her, setting his cup out of the way. Displayed on the monitor was the transcribed notes Pally, the uniformed officers and he had taken after questioning the hotel staff, the car rental agency, and the cashiers at the gas stations at which Novacek had stopped for gas. They'd also spoken to the staff at the inn where he'd met with James Barnes and his wife, and every member of the Barnes family that had seen or talked to the deceased, that they knew of.

Pally propped her elbow on the desk, and put her chin in her palm while scrolling slowly through the statements. "The only time not accounted for is the first full day Novacek was in town. He drove out of the city on the 66, and returned after midnight. The traffic cams lost him before he got off the freeway, and picked him up again on the return trip, leaving us with…"

"Nearly twelve hours of empty space." Adam sipped his coffee, and snagged a piece of candy from the dish on Pally's desk, continuing while he opened it. "I'm not convinced anyone in the Barnes family is involved in Novacek's death, though none of the ones we interviewed had airtight alibis. Whatever the reason for his visit, they had to know they'd be the first to fall under suspicion. With all the military and undercover experience, I can't believe any of them would be stupid enough to do the deed, and then leave the body in such a public place."

"That's another thing that gets my little voice to whispering. Leaving Novacek's body at the Howling Commandos Memorial seems more like a message to the family than an indictment. Like the person responsible thought they'd done them a favor."

The desk phone rang, and Adam snatched up the handset. "Foley… Be right down." He hung up the phone, and stood. "That was Thorndike. He's finished the prelim on the autopsy, and wants to see us."

~~O~~

Every time they had to visit the autopsy room, Pally mentally cringed. She hated the smell, and the general atmosphere of the morgue. It was a place of death, though the manner was irrelevant, except to law enforcement and the district attorney's office. Murder, accident, or natural causes all had the same effect. Someone who used to be alive was now dead. Each time she came down here, she expected to see the cast of iZombie being their creepy selves, lurking in the shadows.

She wasn't easily creeped out. Every day, she felt sadness for the loss of life, but didn't let it get to her. That's just how she was. It was more likely that she'd be kept awake by some ridiculous horror movie than by events at work. Not even being shot while chasing a suspect had interrupted her sleep for more than a few days. Still, she'd attended the mandatory number of sessions with the staff shrink.

Thorndike, though, had taken her lack of reaction as a challenge, making it his hobby to try to scare her. But she'd been on this job too long.

The door slid open as Pally and Adam approached, and closed behind them. Dr. John "Thorny" Thorndike was sitting at his desk typing with one hand, and eating a jelly donut with the other.

"We're here, Thorny. What's the word?" Adam asked as a way to get the ball rolling.

The ME wiped his hands and mouth, tossed the napkin in the trash can under the desk, and stood. He waved them to the table where Novacek lay covered with a sheet. "The word, my fine friends is 'natural'." Just above the edge of the sheet were the ends of an open Y incision. "Mr. Lazlo Novacek, a Sokovian national, died of natural causes."

This wasn't the first time that the partners had been surprised, and wouldn't be the last. "You're kidding, right?" Adam stated sharply.

"Serious as a heart attack. No pun intended." He gestured them over to the MRI images illuminated by the light boxes, pointing to specific areas of the heart. "See here, here, and here? These areas indicated that Novacek had had several minor events that he probably blew off as heart burn or a cold coming on. By doing so, he set himself up for the big one. He's lucky to have made the flight from Sokovia to the US alive. I still have to examine some of the organs, but my preliminary report says heart attack."

Pally crossed her arms. "What about the tox screen?"

Thorndike raised and dropped his arms, his hands slapping against his thighs. "Nada. No drugs, poisons, chemicals or other foreign substances in his blood. Nothing in his stomach contents either, except for his unfortunate choice of fried food for dinner. There's post-mortem lividity on his left side, meaning he died in that position."

Adam leaned against the counter to the right of the light boxes. "He was found sitting upright. We can make suppositions all day and night. What you're saying, Thorny, is we're left with one gigantic unanswered question."

"Who moved the body?" Pally finished for him.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Unable to process what he was seeing and hearing, Bucky stared at the photo Natasha had given him, a screenshot from a sonogram showing a dark void surrounded by shades of white. In the middle of the dark area lay a small oblong object with little nubs on the sides and one end. He'd seen sonograms of babies before, but never so early in a pregnancy. Barely able to take a breath, he let go when the kids tugged at the photo. "I-you… I thought you couldn't… that _we_ couldn't…" He put a hand to his chest, his legs gave out, and he landed hard on the sofa. "Oh, God! I can't-I can't breathe."

The sofa bounced as Natasha sat next to him, holding his hand, and stroking the hair back from his face. Bucky turned to look at her, and she smiled. "I had a similar reaction. You'll be fine, my wonderful husband. Just close your eyes, and try to relax."

Bucky did as Natasha said, her voice soothing his mind, and soon, the tightness in his chest let up. His hand wrapped around hers where it touched his cheek, moving to hold it against his chest. "We're _really_ having a baby? You and me?"

"Yes, we are. Bruce's best guess is our child will make his or her appearance right around the beginning of July."

"Our child." Bucky could hear the awe in his voice. He wrapped his arms around Natasha, and pulled her across his lap so he could kiss her while one hand rubbed her abdomen. They parted at hearing a throat clearing next to their ears. Natasha and Bucky looked up to see Pietro and Wanda's faces hovering over them grinning.

"We're still he-ere," Wanda reminded them in a sing-song voice.

He helped Natasha sit next to him again, and put his arm around her. The twins sat on either side, hugging Bucky and Natasha between them.

"We are so happy for you!" Wanda gushed.

"We have wanted younger siblings for some time. Now we will have one!" Of all of them, Pietro seemed the most enthusiastic.

Drawing back in surprise, Bucky turned to Natasha. "There's only one, right?"

"That's what Bruce said. Twins don't run in your family. There's Chase and Justin, but no others. Not sure about mine." Natasha's mood changed. Her smile dimmed, and she placed a hand protectively over her abdomen. "With all that was done to me in the Red Room, what if…"

Bucky hugged her tight, and kissed her temple. "Don't think about that. This baby is a miracle for both of us. By the time he or she is born, I'll be ninety-eight years old. That's got to be a Guinness Book of World records for the oldest living father ever."

Natasha gave him a playful shove. "Some of my missions under the new director were helping to rebuild SHIELD's reputation, and it's ranks, and training new recruits in hand-to-hand."

Already shaking his head, Bucky placed a hand on top of Natasha's. "That ends _now_. I won't let you risk your life _or_ the baby's."

"You don't have to worry, James. I've already taken a leave of absence. My avenging days are over until after this child makes his or her debut into the world."

~~O~~

Natasha's first instinct was to push back against Bucky's stern tone. She didn't like being told what she could and couldn't do. However, in this instance, Bucky was right. It was best not to tempt fate by continuing with her normal work and exercise regimens until Bruce could do more tests.

In a show of solidarity, first Wanda then Pietro placed their hands on her abdomen. Natasha took in their expressions, happiness on the same level as hers, and determination. They would protect her and this new life with _their_ lives, if necessary. The least she could do is cooperate.

"As you said, it's our little miracle. Beginning today, I will take every precaution to ensure that this child is born healthy."

"How far along are you?" her husband asked.

She gestured for the kids to move back so she could stand. "Bruce says about five weeks, give or take a few days."

Pietro made a sound like a grunt, his and Wanda's eyes meeting in that glassy-eyed way that meant they were communicating telepathically. Natasha ignored them, believing that it wasn't meant to be rude or hide things from their parents, though it was necessary for their personal growth. They had to learn what they should and shouldn't share with their family, and with others. And if what they were talking about concerned Natasha and Bucky, the twins would say so eventually.

"We'll need a nursery. The baby can sleep in our room for the first couple of months. After that…"

Bucky hugged her from behind, and Natasha patted his hand where it lay on her abdomen again. "Looks like the house needs another wing added on." She searched her pockets, not finding her phone. Movement in the corner of her eye showed the device floating through the air to hover in front of her. She gave Wanda a mild scowl of rebuke, and grabbed it as it fell. The girl shrugged sheepishly, and together, she and Pietro ran upstairs. When they were gone, Bucky cuddled her close again. She let one hand rest on his chest. "Clint and Laura will flip."

"It feels so unreal."

"To me too." He let go when Natasha leaned back. "I should call Clint so he can get some ideas going for the renovations. Why don't you chat or text the rest of the family?"

He headed toward the home office, and stopped. "We could turn the den into the baby's room. That way we won't have to run up and down the stairs when she cries. That would give us time to decide what changes to make."

Taken aback, Natasha sauntered in his direction. "She? What makes you think it'll be a girl?"

Tilting his head to the side in thought, he held her hand. "Slip of the tongue?"

" _Do_ you want a girl?" Pulling her into his arms, Bucky watched her with such an expression of love that Natasha felt herself tearing up again.

"Doesn't matter to me," he told her. "Just seems insulting to call the child it."

"Still, we'll pick out boy _and_ girl names."

Natasha moved out of his arms again, watching until the den door closed. As she went up the stairs, she dialed Clint's number. "Hey. Guess what? Maybe you better sit down for this, Hawkeye. James and I are having a baby… No, I'm not joking."

 **Tunnel Vision**

After getting Rey situated with food, drinks, tissues, and all the other little things someone with the flu needed within reach, Chase got back in the SUV and turned in the direction of the club, still shaking his head at the news.

 _Don't tell_ _anyone_ _. I mean it, Chase. Not a word._

 _I won't. Just remember you won't be able to hide it for long_.

The look Rey had given him could've peeled paint. His first instinct was to ask if Justin was the father, but he managed to stop the words before they were spoken. She wasn't one to piss off, especially when sick.

To get his mind off the fact that his best friend could be pregnant with his brother's child, Chase turned his thoughts to the conversation with Iris that morning. Stating his wish that they move to the next level in their relationship had been a spur of the moment thing. He'd been thinking about it for a while. Well, pretty much since their first night together. The only wrinkle in the fabric of the idea was Andre.

After their first awkward introduction, he found they had more in common that he would've thought. He liked Iris' brother well enough, but didn't want him living with them. Andre's original motive for moving in was no longer valid. From Iris, Chase had found out that Andre had given up his townhouse to live with and take care of his invalid sister. That gave him a kick-ass idea. When he got back to the club, he'd run it by Iris, and if she approved, they'd speak to Andre.

As he pulled into his personal parking space in the back lot at Tunnel Vision, Chase got a text. He smiled when he saw it was from Gramps. The content wasn't anything that he expected. What he thought would be a request for Chase to help with the catering for the Halloween party turned out to be something entirely unexpected, and not just to him.

"Nat's _pregnant_? What the hell is going on in this family? Everyone's having babies all the sudden."

He ran inside, anxious to tell Iris about his afternoon.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Barely able to contain his excitement, Bucky stood in the middle of the den picturing it as a nursery. "The crib can go against that wall. That corner is the perfect place for a rocking chair and changing table, and where the desk is, we can put the dresser, shelves, and a toy box. We'll need lots of diapers."

He turned in a circle. "It really needs a window, but it could work until Clint can do the renov…"

A sharp pain took his breath away for a few short seconds that seemed longer. It reminded him of when it happened while the family was staying at Clint's. Like heartburn, but he hadn't eaten anything that would cause this sensation. And like the other time, it was gone within moments, leaving nothing behind but the memory. "Tasha has to give up caffeine and alcohol. I should too."

They had till July to get the room ready for the baby. For the first few weeks, he or she would sleep in with them, the way he and Connie had done with their children. When Carolyn was born, Bucky and Connie were living in an apartment in Brooklyn.

By the time Steven James came along, they'd moved to D.C., and he'd risen high enough in the ranks to be able to afford a small house. From there, they added Jacob and Olivia, and eventually moved into this house where they'd lived for almost fifty years at the time of her death. He liked to think that Connie would be happy that he found someone to fill the void where she had been in his heart, and that their home was once again resounded with the sounds of love and laughter.

Putting Connie out of his mind, Bucky booted up the computer, and sent out video chat requests. For those family and friends who didn't respond, he sent a mass text telling them the good news.

Steve, Joi, and Alice were in Canada to film the last few episodes of Rare Tastes. The dogs were staying with Carolyn and Martin while they were gone, and soon, their family would be moving into their new home.

After meeting Alice, Bucky had read up on her condition, and all the challenges she would face for the rest of her life. He was absolutely certain that Alice would thrive under the care of his eldest granddaughter and his best friend.

The computer pinged each time someone accepted his request, Steve being the last. Once everyone was ready, Bucky let them see the awe he felt knowing that he and Natasha had gotten their greatest wish. "Thanks for joining me, everyone. Natasha and I have some news to share with all of you…"

~~O~~

After hanging up the phone, Natasha peeked through the partially open door, watching her husband move around the room muttering about changing tables, cribs, diapers, baby clothes, and rocking chairs. It seemed _he_ was even more excited about the baby than she was.

She'd known almost a week before saying anything, mostly because she could hardly believe it was true. That was why she'd taken a drive over to Bruce's lab for a sonogram. She had to be sure before telling Bucky, because, if it turned out not to be true, Natasha didn't think she could bear his disappointment as well as her own.

But the moment she saw the tiny figure on the monitor, it became real, or rather surreal. The graduation ceremony was supposed to end the possibility of such an occurrence. Bruce asked why she was stunned at the news, and she told him the truth. However the doctors had altered her reproductive organs to keep her from having a cycle, thereby removing the urge to procreate, had been undone.

Why now? If the procedure could reverse itself, why had it done so now instead of years ago? Why had it happened at all?

Then, it came to her. Natasha stepped into the hall, and went to knock on Wanda's door, stopping with her hand raised. Through the door, she could hear the twins working on a school project.

Natasha returned to her room, giving her daughter's door one last glance before going inside. And really, did it matter how this baby had come to be? Not in the least. This child would have a warm and loving family to guide her through life's ups and downs. Each day, she would know she was loved. There was no reason to pull on a thread that could unravel everything she and Bucky had built since the day the met.

The most important thing in the world is family and love. And now Natasha had both. She smoothed a hand over her still flat abdomen, wondering what she would look like when it was nearly time for their child to be born.

Curiosity got the better of her. Taking the pillow from the lounge chair by the window, Natasha shoved it up under her top, tugging the hem down to cover the pillow. Going to the mirror, she turned side to side, examining herself from as many angles as possible. Experimentally, she knocked the brush to the floor, and tried to pick it up. Yeah, that wasn't going to work after the fourth month or so. Leaving the pillow in, she made herself comfortable in the lounge chair then tried to get up. She'd have to work on that one.

Coming at the problem from a logical point of view, Natasha determined that, at times, she would need to rely on others to perform even the simplest of tasks. Relaxing for the moment, she gazed out the window, watching the leave flutter, some of the falling to the ground, while others were carried by the breeze. Her mind wandered, and she nearly jumped when the bedroom door opened, and Bucky came in. The look on his face was comical and weird at the same time.

"I… Oh, my God, Tasha."

Smiling, she reached out her hand, and Bucky came to sit next to her. "I just wanted to see what I would look like in a few months."

"You will be the most beautiful mother in the world." Playing the part of the doting husband, he rubbed a hand over the mound made by the pillow. "The last few weeks, the baby will be so active you'll have trouble sleeping. Some babies move around more when Mom is active, and 'sleeps' when she does. Others, like Steven James, think that night time is playtime. Connie barely got any sleep the last month with him. It seemed that every time she'd lie down, he would kick until she got up and walked around. She slept sitting up the last couple of weeks before he was born."

"If that's how it's going to be, we'll deal with it when the time comes. For now," she pulled the pillow out, slapped him in the chest with it, and scooted off the end of the chair, "it's your turn to take care of the 'baby' while I take a walk."

~~O~~ 

In another part of town, a young girl played by herself, waiting for someone to join her. Sitting at the child sized table, she hummed a favorite song as she colored in a new coloring book that was also educational.

The door opened, and closed with a soft click. The person who entered went down on one knee beside the girl's chair, softly whispering, "Bindlestiff."

The girl stopped coloring, lay the crayon in the crease of the book, and placed her hands in her lap, waiting.

"I'm sorry this had to be done, Gracie," the voice was low and soothing, "but I can't take the chance that, if certain people knew, they might take you away from your family, and force you to do bad things. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

As if she were having a normal conversation, Gracie shook her head. "No. I want to stay with Mommy."

"I know you do, and I don't want to do this. However, in the future, you might be tempted to use your ability in the wrong way, like I nearly did. If you're to have a normal life, free of the stress of dealing with your abilities, this has to be done."

The girl looked at her companion, and nodded. "I understand."

Her companion took hold of her hand. "Gracie, listen carefully. I _need_ you to believe that I am only doing this for your own good. I _need_ you to be just a normal little girl, one who loves her family, and only wants what's best for them and for herself. I _need_ you to forget that you ever had special powers, and I _need_ you to not use those abilities ever again."

"Okay, I won't." The girl's voice sounded normal, as if they were having an everyday conversation.

"The next time you go to the park, I _need_ you to drop the GPS wristband into the water, and I _need_ you to make it look like an accident." Standing, the other person went to the door, holding it open with one hand, watching Gracie sitting docilely in her chair. "Bindlestiff."

The door closed as Gracie picked up her crayon, and returned to coloring and humming.

 **TBC**

 _iZombie_ is an American television series developed by Rob Thomas and Diane Ruggiero-Wright for The CW. It is a loose adaptation of the comic book series of the same name created by Chris Roberson and Michael Allred, and published by DC Comics under their Vertigo imprint. The series premiered on March 17, 2015.

Bindlestiff: a tramp or a hobo, especially one carrying a bundle containing a bedroll and other gear.


	105. Chapter 105

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 105**

 **The Previous Night**

As they drove away from the hotel, Novacek stared out the window, not reacting to anything he saw, and not once did he ask where they were going.

Upon arrival at the pre-determined destination in Prince William Forest Park, the driver got out, and went around to the trunk with Novacek following a few seconds later. A hand touched him on the side of the neck. "I _need_ you to lie down in the trunk."

Novacek took off his hat, and set it on top of his suitcase. He climbed into the trunk, and lay down on his side as if he were about to take a nap. And he was, sort of. The eternal nap.

Touching his neck again, the figure whispered, "Listen closely, Lazlo. I can't allow you to take Wanda and Pietro away from their parents. I _need_ you to die, quickly, and quietly, without making a fuss. I _need_ your heart to give out, for you to have a massive heart attack so it appears that you died of natural causes. Do you understand?"

" _Da_."

His body jerked and thrashed through a convulsion, his legs flailing, and one hand clutching his chest as the figure absorbed his life force. The man was dead within a few minutes. Watching him die turned the driver's stomach, but it had to be done. Natasha and Bucky loved the twins as if they'd given birth to them. Having Wanda and Pietro taken away would devastate them, and that couldn't be allowed to happen.

When the driver was certain that Novacek was dead, the trunk was closed, the suitcase and hat picked up, and stashed in the back seat. The driver got behind the wheel, and drove into Prince William Forest Park to dispose of all documentation Novacek had brought with him regarding the twins. The driver had found the documents on the man's laptop. It had to be destroyed as well.

~~O~~

The black-clad figure drove off the bridge, and kept going through Lorton, taking back roads as much as possible, until they entered the Capitol Hill area. Pulling into an empty parking lot, the figure took out the laptop, already programmed for the next phase in the plan. With a few key strokes, every security and traffic camera within a four-block radius went into a loop, showing the same few minutes of video over and over again so no one would see what happened next.

The trunk of the car popped open, and the figure stared at the body of Lazlo Novacek lying on the grey carpet. The body wasn't yet stiff, making it easier to move. The driver sat the body up, and slung him over the shoulder in a modified fireman's carry. Within minutes, Novacek's body was sitting in front of the Howling Commandos Memorial, between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. It was a message to Bucky, and his wife, letting them know that they wouldn't have to worry about their children being taken away. At least the driver hoped it would be seen that way.

Returning to the car, the driver closed the trunk, and got behind the wheel. Five minutes later, the driver remembered that the hat and suitcase were still in the back seat, and a brilliant plan came to mind.

In every large metropolitan city there was a specific area where the less fortunate would congregate. The driver headed for that part of the city, and chose a dark alley in which to leave the suitcase and hat.

Looking in the rear view mirror, the driver saw two men slip down the alley, and come out carrying the items. They looked around furtively, and seeing no one, they took off, no doubt praising their good fortune.

Facing front again, the driver returned the stolen vehicle to its former location, locked the doors, and walked away without looking back, knowing that there was no possible way that the Barnes family could be connected to its brief disappearance.

 **Present**

Gracie laid the crayon down, and went to the door. Getting down on her hands and knees, she peeked under to make sure her visitor had gone. The hallway was empty.

She went to her bed, and picked up Horatio. He was her best friend, and most trusted confidant. "I know what I did was wrong, but it was important to Papa, Tasha, Pee-yay-tro, and Wanda, so I did it. It was also wrong for you-know-who to try to trick me into helping." The GPS wristband lay on her bedside table. She picked it up. "That's what this is really for. It gave me a signal when to use my power on someone." Opening the drawer, she dropped it inside, and closed it. "As long as no one finds out I can do stuff, I won't have to go live with strangers who are mean and want me to do bad things." She hugged Horatio. "I won't ever do it again. Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

Horatio was returned to his place of honor on the bed, and Gracie went back to her coloring. She finished the page she'd been working on, and closed the book. She picked up the Winter Soldier doll, her thumb tracing over the red star on the bicep. She set him back on her bedside table, and went down the hall to the living room where her mother was talking to Gramma, Grampa, and Aunt Carolyn. Whenever she came into the room, they stopped talking, just like now. "Mommy, can I have a snack and a drink?"

"Just a small one, honey. We're going out to dinner later."

"Okay." Gracie poured herself a glass of milk then used the step stool to get a single cookie from the self in the pantry. She carried it back to her room, stopping at the door to see if the adults would start talking again, but they didn't.

What she could do didn't let her read minds, but with a single touch, she could get someone to tell her anything, or do almost anything she asked. It only started a little while ago, the year she'd wanted to have a _Star Wars_ party for her birthday. Her mother had wanted to do something simple that year, and had said so several times. But Gracie really, really wanted the _Star Wars_ party, and when she held her mother's hand, and concentrated, Mommy had finally agreed.

When she realized what was going on, at first Gracie was scared. Then one day, she used this power to ask her Grampa what would happen if important people like the police found out. What he said made her even more scared. Gracie didn't want to be taken away from her family, her friends, and her school, so she made herself a promise not to use her power unless it was super-important. That's why she never used it on Jerry Panabaker when he was being mean to her and the other kids.

One day, Gracie almost used her power to find out about her father, and why he was never around. Only Horatio knew about the promise, but she still didn't break it. Knowing about her father was important, but not super-important. It could wait.

When she asked Steve and Tasha to come to career day, she hadn't used it then either. She just knew Steve would say yes, and if he did, so would Tasha. Now, she was the most popular kid in her class, and Jerry Panabaker left her alone.

Because she knew her mom would be in soon, Gracie went across the hall to the bathroom and brushed her teeth before being told.

 **Tunnel Vision**

"…I'll order the center pieces today, and have them delivered the night before the party just in case there's a problem. That'll give us time to working something out." Iris ticked another item off the meeting's agenda, pleased with how well the staff worked together. "Any questions?"

No one did, so she went on to the next item. "Uniforms." She handed a clipboard to Alex. "Fill out this form with your size and color preferences. Two shirts each in any combination of red, dark blue, dark green and black. We should have them by the first week of November, and they'll have the new logo."

There was a chorus of cheers and light applause that pleased Iris. "Because we're going less formal with the uniforms, Chase suggested we change the rest as well. Starting on Monday of next week, blue jeans, khakis and sneakers can be worn. They need to be clean, no rips, tears, or stains, and for goodness sake, wear a belt to keep your pants up." She looked around at the sea of smiling faces. "Training on the new payment system will begin soon. We'll let you know days and times." Iris turned to her left. "Luke has a few things to say, too. Luke?"

The big man stayed seated, more than likely to keep from looming over the seated employees, most of whom were shorter and less muscular than he. "We've purchased the field behind the club that will be turned into employee parking. It'll give us more space for customers, and should be ready before Thanksgiving. Also, we're installing key card readers on the employee entrance and all the supply rooms. The ones on the front and back door will only be active when the senior staff is on-scene prior to opening, and just after closing. If you're not supposed to be somewhere, you won't be able to get in." He consulted the paper in front of him. "If you lose your key card, the cost to replace it is $30.00, so make sure you keep track."

Iris stood, using her cane to balance though it wasn't as necessary as it had been even two weeks ago. Somehow, having the cane seemed to demand respect from those around her. "Thanks for coming. If you have any questions, speak to Chase, Luke, Alex, or me."

Once the employees dispersed, Iris walked back to the office, and found the door standing open. Certain she'd closed and locked it when she left for the meeting she cautiously peeked around the corner, relieved to see Chase sitting at his desk working. "Hey."

He looked up with an odd smile. She knew he was happy to see her, but there was something else going on. "Iris."

His tone when he spoke sounded as if he hadn't expected to see her, or had forgotten her name, and just that moment remembered. She went to her desk and sat down. "How did it go with Rey?"

The strange expression got even weirder. "She has the stomach flu." Before Iris could express her sympathies, Chase continued. "And she's pregnant."

Taken aback, Iris blinked. "Oh. Does that mean you're going to be an uncle again?"

"Not sure. Remember I told you about Harry? She's been spending time with him off and on since she and Justin took a break. She didn't say how far along, so…" he shrugged.

"You have one messed up family, babe."

Chase leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You don't know the half of it. Got a text from Gramps after I dropped Rey at home." Iris waited out the dramatic pause. "Nat's pregnant too."

"She's married to your grandfather, right?"

He rolled to his feet, and came around to lean on the front of the desk. "She's my step-grandmother. They adopted two teenagers recently, and now they're having a baby." Holding up a finger, he added a qualifier. "You can talk about Nat and Gramps from here to moon, but not a word about Rey to anyone. And I do mean anyone."

"I don't understand it, but okay." Chase watched his feet for a while, not saying anything. "Has your family always been so…"

He pushed off the desk and came around to sit facing her. "Dramatic?" Waggling his hand, he smiled fondly. "Justin could be somewhat of a drama queen, and not because of his sexual orientation. That's just how he was. Every now and then, the old Justin sticks his head out of the ground and looks around, sort of like the groundhog on February 2nd. But then something happens, and back in he goes."

Into the pause, the shrill scream of the fire alarms startled them both, and Chase was out the door before Iris could pick up the phone to call 9-1-1.

~~O~~

Chase sprayed the last of the hot-spots on and around the gas stove, relieved the fire had gone out so easily. He turned to the crowd of employees, and a few patrons. "It's out. Luke, comp the orders for any customers in the dining room, and send them on their way.

Behind him, Iris chimed in. "I've called the fire department. They'll need to inspect the building before we'll be able to open again. Once they've been here, the insurance company will be called."

Iris glanced over her shoulder at the distant shriek of sirens coming closer. "Luke, make a sign, and stick it in the window. I'm sure someone's already tweeted it, and posted a status on Facebook."

"Yes, ma'am," Luke saluted her, and was gone.

Iris took in the mess that had once been a pristine food prep area. "What the hell happened?"

"Don't know. Chef had most of it out by the time I got here." He did a double take upon seeing that she was standing on her own, without the use of a cane.

She took hold of his hand, and led him back to the office. By then, she had her phone out, calling the insurance company. Chase let go, watching her walk and talk at the same time. Something she hadn't been able to do because she had to concentrate so she wouldn't lose her balance.

When she hung up the phone, Iris faced him again, a puzzled expression in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Chase motioned for her to come toward him. "Don't think. Just come over here."

Iris did as he asked, making it all the way across the room without stumbling or coming close to falling. The look in her eyes was one of disbelief as she threw herself into his arms. Chase picked her up, and hugged her tight. "Oh, my God!"

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Carrying the pillow Natasha had used to simulate how she might look near the end of the pregnancy, Bucky sat in front of the vanity, holding it like a baby. "I can't wait to hear you say 'Momma' and "Dada', our miracle child."

Saying the words reminded him of something from when he'd been injured. Not something he _saw_ , but something he _heard_ , though it hadn't registered at the time.

He returned the pillow to its place on the chair, and went downstairs to speak to the twins. Pietro was in the back yard playing catch with himself. Wanda sat in the gazebo with a pad and pen, working on a poem for one of her classes.

As Bucky crossed the deck, Pietro threw the ball at him. "Heads up!" He caught it, and threw it as hard as he could into the field behind the house, just to mess with his son. Pietro chased after the ball, and was back within seconds.

Bucky stopped at the bottom of the steps. "Mind if I join you, baby girl?" Wanda smiled a welcome, and scooted to the side so he could sit next to her. "How's the poem coming?"

She sighed loudly. "Not very well. I know little about poetry."

"Poetry is difficult to define. Basically, it's a form of literature that uses aesthetics and the rhythmic qualities of language to evoke emotions, paint a mental picture, or make you think, just as all art does." He brought one of his favorites to mind, "Fire and Ice".

 _Some say the world will end in fire,_

 _Some say in ice._

 _From what I've tasted of desire_

 _I hold with those who favor fire._

 _But if it had to perish twice,_

 _I think I know enough of hate_

 _To say that for destruction ice_

 _Is also great,_

 _And would suffice._

"Another thing to remember is that it doesn't necessarily have to rhyme to be considered poetry."

"I had not considered that." 

Bucky used his feet set the swing moving. "Here's an example." He thought a moment, and chose one that was not well-known.

 _I celebrate myself, and sing myself_

 _And what I assume you shall assume_

 _For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you._

 _I loaf and invite my soul,_

 _I lean and loaf at my observing a spear of summer grass._

Wanda cocked her head to the side, thinking. Good. That's what poetry-all art really, was meant to do. "Then there's Shakespeare. His plays often read as poems."

Standing, Bucky leaned against the post by the steps, and gazed into the distance as if he were deep in thought.

 _To be, or not to be: that is the question:_ _  
_ _Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer_ _  
_ _The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_ _  
_ _Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,_ _  
_ _And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;_ _  
_ _No more; and by a sleep to say we end_ _  
_ _The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks_ _  
_ _That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation_ _  
_ _Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;_ _  
_ _To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;_ _  
_ _For in that sleep of death what dreams may come_ _  
_ _When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_ _  
_ _Must give us pause: there's the respect_ _  
_ _That makes calamity of so long life;_ _  
_ _For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,_ _  
_ _The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely…_

He stopped there so he wouldn't bore her with the entirety of Hamlet's monologue. "There's more, but you get the idea. In this scene, Hamlet is contemplating killing himself." To lighten the mood, he sat down again, and pushed the swing again. "There's one I heard in a television series. I had someone translate it from Farsi."

 _I worship love, not like in the writings_

 _My love, my only faith, her slightest_

 _Discomfort ruins my root and my belief_

 _I'm in heaven when I'm with you from now on_

 _Right now, right here, with you, my love_

"It's sounds more passionate in Farsi." Bucky chuckled. "Even song lyrics can be poetic." He took Wanda's hand, silently letting her know that she and her brother could tell them anything.

Pietro stopped running around the yard, and came to sit on the steps turned so that he could see them. As the oldest, he began. "We thought that if we were younger, and not so close to becoming adults that it would increase our chances of being adopted and finally getting out of Sokovia."

The swing stopped, and Bucky leaned forward, motioning the twins close, as if he were about to tell them the secrets of the universe. "If Tasha and I had known, we still would've wanted you." Both kids looked skeptical. To prove his words, Bucky took hold of Wanda's hand. "See for yourself."

He opened his eyes when she pulled free. She slanted a glance at Pietro, and nodded. "He's telling the truth."

"Since we're having a heart to heart, I wanted to ask you something." Moving back so they wouldn't feel crowded, Bucky crossed one leg over the other. "The night I was injured, Wanda, you said, 'Father, please. Don't die again.'"

Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes, and she looked away. "When I saw you fall…" she jumped up and turned her back, taking a few steps away. "It reminded me of the day our parents died. When the first missile hit, the whole building shook." She looked down at her brother.

"It was like an earthquake. Books and photos were knocked from the shelves, and dishes out of the kitchen cabinets. Things hanging on the walls fell to the floor. Father sent us into the bedroom for safety. Then, he yelled for Mother. And when we peeked out from under the bed, we saw the floor break open, and watched him fall into the hole."

The stiffness in Wanda's back, and Pietro not meeting his eyes told Bucky that they didn't want physical comfort from him. Not yet. So, he gave them what he could: understanding. "You still have nightmares."

Wanda turned around. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Pietro already knows this. In 1944, the Howling Commandos were sent to capture a Nazi scientist by the name of Zola. During the fight on the train, one of the Red Skull's men blasted a hole in the side of the car. As I fell, I grabbed a piece of pipe, and just as it broke, Steve pulled me inside." Bucky rubbed his hands together, again feeling the icy winds pulling at his clothes, and freezing his hands to the pipe. He knew it was his imagination, but he could still feel the place where his palm had stuck to the metal, the skin ripping when Steve grabbed him. "To this day, I still have bad dreams about falling.

"If it weren't for Steve, none of us would be here. This family wouldn't exist because they would never have been born." That bit of information sunk in, and Wanda returned to his side. "You also called us Mother and Father. The next day, you went back to James and Natasha."

Pietro and Wanda sat on either side of him, the boy saying, "You prefer to be called Mother and Father?"

Bucky put his arms around the kids. "We do. Me, I'm used to being called Father, Dad, Daddy, Gramps, and Papa. Tasha, on the other hand, will need to get used to being called Mom, Mommy, and so forth now that we're having our seventh child. Twelfth, if you count the cats."

The trio had a laugh at that. Then, Wanda said, "She's come home from her walk."

Natasha came out the back door to the deck wrapped in a sweater against the chill. Out the side of his mouth, Bucky whispered, "Here's your chance. Make it good."

The kids jumped up from the swing, running to greet Natasha. They called out, "Hi, Mother!" and kissed her on opposite cheeks on their way back into the house.

Following at a slower pace, Bucky joined Natasha on the deck. She was still staring after the kids with an odd expression. "They called me Mother again." Her eyes found his. "That was _your_ doing, wasn't it?"

He shrugged, and draped an arm around her shoulders, turning her back toward the house. "I merely mentioned that you might be amenable to them using the honorific so you can get used to hearing it before the baby's born." He reached past her to open the door. "By the way, I've been thinking about names."

"I'm listening."

"For a girl, Abigail Esme Romanoff-Barnes, and for a boy, Benjamin Thomas Romanoff-Barnes."

Natasha took the step up into the house, immediately turning around to put her hands on his shoulders. "I would say that my husband is a genius."

~~O~~

Somehow, Bucky was convinced that their baby would be a girl, and Natasha was willing to indulge him. She was in the process of giving Bucky a congratulatory kiss for coming up with two perfect names for their child when the doorbell rang. Before the echo stopped, Pietro was there, opening the door. However, his greeting lacked warmth. Natasha made a note to school him on proper etiquette for welcoming someone into your home. Then she heard a familiar voice. That of Detective Foley.

" _Good afternoon, son. Are your parents home?_ "

There was a pause, as if Pietro were looking them over and not liking what he saw. It showed in his voice. "Why do you want to see them? To make more accusations?"

Foley's partner spoke next. " _We never accused you_ _or_ _your parents of anything, young man. It's our job to find out the truth, and we can only do that by asking questions_."

Bucky called out, "Pietro, don't be rude. Ask the detectives to step inside."

Without a word, the boy pushed the door wide, inviting them in just as Natasha and Bucky reached the living room. "Why are you here, detectives?"

Their badges were put away while Foley and Juarez stood in the entryway. "We have some news about Mr. Novacek, and thought you deserved to hear it in person rather than from the evening news or Twitter."

 **TBC**

"Fire and Ice" is one of Robert Frost's most popular poems. It was published in December 1920in _Harper's Magazine,_ and in 1923 in his Pulitzer Prize−winning book _New Hampshire_. It discusses the end of the world, likening the elemental force of fire with the emotion of desire, and ice with hate. It is one of Frost's best-known and most anthologized poems.

"Song of Myself" by Walt Whitman

"To Be or Not to Be": Original Words Spoken by Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1

 _Bones_ , season 8, episode 7, "The Bod in the Pod", poem by Arastoo Vaziri


	106. Chapter 106

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 106**

"Pietro." Bucky caught the boy's gaze and wordlessly asked him to leave them alone.

Natasha knew why they were here. "The ME finished the autopsy."

"Not quite. However, he feels certain that Mr. Novacek died of a massive heart attack," Foley told them. "His death is being attributed to natural causes."

Her hand clamped around Bucky's. "He didn't die where he was found."

Juarez shifted her feet. "The post-mortem lividity doesn't have a distinctive pattern, making it difficult to locate the primary crime scene. Other than that, we can't discuss the case. We just wanted you and your family to know that you're free and clear."

Smiling, Bucky opened the front door, and the detectives stepped out. "Thanks for coming." He shut the door, and leaned against it, his false smile turning to a one of genuine relief. "If those two keep coming around, we'll be on a first name basis."

Natasha went into Bucky's arms. "Well, I, for one, am glad it's all over. Now we can think about more important things."

"Yeah, like our Halloween costumes. What about a couple's thing this year? Fred and Wilma, Lady and the Tramp, Marge and Homer Simpson, Peter and Wendy."

"Beauty and the Beast?" Natasha poked him in the chest. "We can talk about it tonight. Clint's coming for dinner. Afterward, he'll spend time with the kids to see how they want their rooms decorated." She led the way into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa with Bucky next to her.

"Justin's been working with that contractor. Maybe he can give Clint a hand," he reminded her.

She took out her phone to call Justin, but he didn't answer so she left a message. "Hey, Justin. It's Nat. Clint will be staring the renovations for the kids' rooms, and we'll be fielding ideas for the baby's room. We're wondering if you'd like to give him a hand with the work. Give us a call when you have a moment."

Pietro appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "You just called Justin?"

"We did. Hoping he'll help Clint out," Bucky told him. "Why?"

"I don't think he's going to be around for a while."

Bucky and Natasha exchanged puzzled looks. "How do you know?"

The boy held up a small duffle bag. "He brought Dexter over and asked us to watch him. There's enough formula in here for at least a week."

Wanda came down the stairs to stand with him. "He was acting strange, even for him. He put up a mental barrier so I couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking."

"We thought maybe he didn't want to take care of him anymore. However, he gave Dexter a cuddle before he left."

Not liking the direction her thoughts were taking, Natasha got up and went into the den to call Clint. "I need you to make a stop on the way."

" _Name it, and I'm there_."

Keeping her voice even, she told him, "It's Justin. We need an outside opinion on his state of mind. He says he's fine, but hasn't been himself more than usual lately. Make up a good reason for being there, and if you can, get him to come to the house with you. I'll text the address."

" _Justin and I have an understanding. We'll be there in time for dinner_."

Relieved, Natasha smiled at her reflection in the mirror next to the closet door. " _Spasibo_. See you soon."

She turned off the phone, and took a few moments to herself, thinking about the moment her pregnancy felt real.

 **A Few Days Ago**

 **Bruce's Lab**

Bruce was fully immersed in his current project, or rather part of one that Tony was working on and had badgered him into helping: a satellite/shuttle combination called Veronica, designed to deploy the Hulkbuster Armor if the Other Guy ever got out of control. It was a worst case measure that Bruce hoped would never be needed.

The door hissed open, and Natasha strode in, a look of determination on her pretty face. "I need proof."

"Proof?"

She crossed her arms. "The test showed positive, but I still don't believe it. I need something besides a piece of paper that says my pee has high levels of a pregnancy hormone. I've read up on it. The test could've been a false positive."

Knowing he would get no more work done until he gave Natasha what she wanted, Bruce put his tablet and pen aside. He waved her over to stand on the hologrid in the middle of the floor. "Jarvis, full scan of Agent Romanoff, centering on the lower abdomen."

" _As you wish, sir_." Green lights that looked like lasers played over the lower half of Natasha's body for several seconds and stopped. " _Scan complete. Shall I display it on the monitor or would you and Agent Romanoff prefer to see a holographic display?_ "

"Both, please."

Natasha stepped off the hologrid, coming to stand at his side. Starting at the feet, the outline of a woman appeared, edged in green, except for her hair, which was red. Her internal organs showed in various colors, with the blood vessels in red and blue. Without being told, Jarvis zoomed in on the lower abdomen with the uterus as the focal point. " _I assume that your interest is in the fetus growing within Agent Romanoff's uterus_." Again, he enlarged the area until they could both see the tiny heart moving.

Crossing her arms, Natasha walked around the display, stopping on the side opposite Bruce. "Are you pranking me, Jarvis?"

" _It would never occur to me, miss. What you're seeing is a true representation of your current physical condition. You_ _are_ _going to have a baby_."

Reaching through the hologram, Bruce took Natasha hand, urging her to join him. When she finally did, he turned the monitor so she could see the display. Using a stylus, he pointed out the heart. "These nubs are the legs, and these," he indicated the ones on either side of the blob, "are the arms. The child is five to six weeks, putting the approximate date of birth at the beginning of July."

"When you first told me I was pregnant, I really thought you were joking."

In all seriousness, Bruce put his hand on her shoulder. "I would never joke about something like this, Tasha." He turned her to face him, hands lightly gripping her shoulders. "Planned or not, you and your husband are having a baby."

"It's not a matter of planning, Bruce. It wasn't supposed to happen at all." She made an about-face. "The Red Room took care of that. Or so they said."

"Their method couldn't have been foolproof because…"

Natasha faced him again. "I'm the fool that's proving them wrong. Aside from the obvious, could James' souped up DNA have broken through the process?"

"There's so much we don't know about enhanced beings, Tasha. And since you don't have any idea just how the Red Room sterilized you, who can say how it happened? Just be glad that it did." Holding out his hands, Bruce was happy to see a smile on Natasha's face when she placed hers in his.

"It's really happening then." She drew him into a hug. "He's going to be so happy when he finds out, he'll want to shout it from the rooftop."

Something in her tone bothered Bruce. "And what about you, Tasha? Aren't _you_ happy you're having a baby?"

"It hasn't sunk in quite yet. Maybe in a few days." She gave him a squeeze then stepped back. "Have you ever delivered a baby?"

"A few, while I was in Calcutta. When you found me, I was trying to stop an epidemic. The government wasn't inclined to step in because only the poor families living where you found me were affected due to the unhealthy living conditions."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up. "That's why I sent SHIELD's medical unit to the area once you agreed to help find the Tesseract."

Bruce shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Back to the other question. Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I already have a baby-daddy. Will you be my baby-doctor?" She waved her hands at the high-tech equipment filling the room. "I won't even have to get undressed. Jarvis can do the scan, and you interpret his findings."

"If your husband doesn't mind having a male friend poking around his wife's insides, then I accept."

She picked up her keys, preparing to leave. "Could I get a screenshot of the ultrasound to show James?"

"Of course." Without being asked, Jarvis sent the info to the printer, and Bruce handed it over. "I'm happy for you and James, Tasha."

"Thanks." Natasha gripped his hand one more time, and left him alone with his thoughts.

Did she have any idea how much he wanted to have a child of his own? But it was impossible. Bruce had done the tests himself. Making a baby would never happen for him, even if he found a way to be intimate with a woman without bringing out the Other Guy.

Pushing his maudlin thoughts aside, Bruce got back to work on Tony's newest pet project that had nothing to do with Pepper and the LMD. The feeling he got was that Tony had asked him to help so he could spend more time with the comatose Pepper. Then there was the fact that Veronica was being built for the Other Guy. Who better to work on it than himself?

 **Present**

Her moments of self-indulgence over, Natasha returned to the living room. "Who was at the door?"

Bucky patted the sofa, and Natasha joined him. "The first time, it was a friend of Wanda's. They're in her room. The second time, it was a couple of Pietro's friends. They've gone to the park to play basketball, or football. He'll be home in time for dinner."

"That means we have the entire downstairs to ourselves."

Her husband got a sly gleam in his eyes. "What did you have in mind? We can always go in the den and lock the door."

"I was thinking more along the lines of looking baby furniture, and making a decision about where to move the safe in the closet."

Pretending to pout, Bucky crossed his arms. "You're no fun. Is this how it's going to be for the next eight months?"

"I thought you knew me better than that, husband. We won't have to curtail certain activities for a while yet." Natasha swung her legs over his lap, one hand urging him down for a kiss that smoldered under the surface, slowly building. Bucky's arms wrapped her in his warmth, holding her close. They pulled apart upon hearing a pop.

Wanda and a slim Asian girl were standing in the entrance to the living room. The stranger had popped a bubble, and her eyes were curious, as if she'd caught them naked and having sex on the piano, and was taking mental notes for a school project in which she was only mildly interested. Both girls were carrying school bags and purses.

While Natasha and Bucky untangled themselves, Wanda made introductions. "Mother, Father, this is my friend from school, Xiaoli Yin. Xiaoli, my parents."

The girl wore a dark purple turtleneck sweater dress that reached to her knees, black leggings, and boots to match the dress. Her hair was jet black, twisted into two puffballs on the top of her head and slightly to the sides with a bright purple curl descending from her left temple. She had brown eyes, just a few freckles on her nose, along with a nose ring, and three studs in each earlobe. She wore a Celtic knot necklace, and rings on every finger, including her thumbs. Her makeup was straight out of a gothic novel, black and purple shadow around her eyes, giving them a cat-like appearance, and purple lips outlined in black.

Bucky kept his arms around Natasha's waist while she smiled a greeting, not at all embarrassed at being caught kissing by their daughter and her friend. "Nice to meet you, Xiaoli. Where are you girls off to?"

Xiaoli blew a bubble, and sucked it back in. "To my house, Mr. and Mrs. B. Gonna help Wanda study World History." Her accent was strictly American. Not a trace of the "old country".

Bucky finally spoke up. "How far?"

Wanda took a half step forward. "Just a few miles. Xiao has a car."

The girl worked her jaws. "You don't haveta worry, parental units. I'm a spiffylicious driver. Never got a ticket. Ever."

With a quick side glance at her guest, Wanda came to give Natasha and Bucky a kiss on the cheek. "I will be home for dinner."

"You girls be careful!" Bucky shouted as the front door slammed. He looked at Natasha, confused. "Spiffylicious?" Natasha shrugged as quiet descended on the household, and it made him smile. "We're finally alone."

Cocking her head to the side, Natasha listened, but only heard the usual house sounds. Not even the cats were awake. "You know what that means."

He snuggled her close. "Nap time?"

"Right." She winked at him. "And if you're a good boy, we might fool around a little beforehand."

He rushed to join her on the climb to the second floor. "I'd be a fool to refuse such a sweet offer, Mrs. Barnes."

"There will plenty of similar offers in the future, General Barnes." In the room, they kicked off their shoes, and lay down on top of the covers, cuddled together in the middle.

~~O~~

Once Natasha had fallen asleep, Bucky gently removed himself from her lax embrace, and eased off the bed. He went to the closet and came back with a handmade quilt which he spread over his wife, pulling it up to her neck. She stirred, but didn't wake up.

He opened the door, and found all but Priscilla and Ryder waiting expectantly, as if they knew he was coming out. They followed him down to the first floor, going straight to the kitchen. When Bucky didn't follow, they found him in the den sitting the love seat, holding his phone, thinking. After a short debate with himself, he dialed a number not in his contact list. It was answered almost immediately. "It's James… I need to see you… As soon as possible… Wednesday's good. I'll take a long lunch… If anyone sees us together, it could get back to Tasha, so we need to meet at your place… See you Wednesday at one."

For some time, Bucky sat there, wallowing in a sea of introspection. Well, not a sea. Maybe a small pond. With a few minor exceptions, he hadn't lied to Natasha since the day they met. Now, he was going to lie his ass off about where he would be in a few days. Or maybe he'd just let her continue to believe he'd be at work, and leave it at that.

Briefly, he entertained the notion of cancelling, but didn't. Instead, he accessed the log on his phone, and deleted the call he'd just made. They had separate cell accounts, and as far as he knew, Natasha had never snooped in his texts or email. But then, again, he'd never kept something like this from her before. It made him feel… dirty, like he needed a shower. However, no amount of soap and water would wash clean a guilty conscience.

To take his mind off of the act of deceit he would be committing this coming week, Bucky went to the desk, and booted up the computer so he could look at baby clothes, furniture, and research the safest car seat.

 **Justin's Apartment**

The apartment was dark except for one small lamp in the living room. Justin sat on the sofa holding the yellow pads he'd filled with his nearly illegible writing at the urging of Dr. Rutledge from group therapy. Since the initial writing, he'd added to it as he remembered more. All this time, and the work that Zeya had done, and he still had gaps in his memory from the time he was a prisoner of HYDRA.

He shot to his feet, the pads in one hand, flipping the pages with the other, reading them over and over until the words were etched into his brain. Taking in the names of the people he'd killed, knowing that their families probably still mourned their deaths, he grew angry yet again.

With each rereading, Justin's anger intensified. He had to move, or go crazy. Pacing around the room, slowly at first, steadily increasing in speed until he couldn't hold it in any longer and his rage exploded.

~~O~~

Clint found a field hidden from the surrounding homes and business in which to land the quinjet. The engine shut down, and he levered himself out of the pilot's seat with a grunt. "You're getting to old for this, Barton," he muttered under his breath as he reached the bottom of the ramp.

He closed the ship, and pocketed the remote as he made his way through the trees that butted up to the back of Justin's apartment complex. Getting a running start, Clint scaled the fence, and dropped lightly to his feet on the other side, facing the locked pool area.

All of Clint's senses went on alert at the loud crash from his right. He headed toward the noise at a run. As he came around the corner, he saw several people on the first floor looking up, and on the second floor nervously watching a specific door, and somehow, he just knew it was Justin's apartment.

There was another crash, and Clint slowed to a walk, taking out the fake ID he kept for just such an occasion. He flashed the badge. "What seems to be the problem here?"

An older man with his arm around the shoulder of a woman near his age pointed with his chin. "It's been going on for almost twenty minutes. Sounds like he's alone in there, so he's probably not beating up his wife. We were about to call the police."

"No need. I am the police." To those gathered around, he said, "Go on back to your apartments. I'll handle this." He gave them all a warning glare. "And don't mention this to anyone."

The crowd dispersed, and Clint took the stairs two at a time, stopping outside Justin's apartment. There was a lull, and he was about to knock when he heard a cry of pure rage, followed by another crash that shook the landing.

Not waiting to be invited in, Clint raised his left foot, and leading with is heel, he kicked the door next to the lock. The wood gave way with a crack, the wood splintering, and swung open to bang against the wall. Clint was inside before the door could come back to hit him.

The living room had been trashed. Even the sofa was a total loss, the cushions having been split, and the stuffings spread all over the place. Broken glass, ceramic, and plastic pieces littered the carpet, and there were fist-sized holes in the walls.

Spying something that didn't seem to belong, Clint crouched to pull it from the debris, holding it up to the light from outside so he could read the list of names. Most of them were familiar, and the world was better off without them, though a few left him feeling sad at the loss of their lives. Then he read the last one, stunned. He could see how HYDRA would've seen this person as a threat, even after all this time. What he didn't understand was why they bothered ordering the assassination, but there it was, proof that the death hadn't been from natural causes as the autopsy had indicated.

Clint replaced the pad where he found it, and stood, looking down at the name scrawled at the bottom of the page. Steve and Bucky would be upset if they knew that Justin had been forced to take this particular person's life. He reasoned that it was only fair that they be told.

The trashing of Justin's belongings had ceased, and almost too late, he sensed someone behind him. Clint spun around and found himself facing off against a man once known as the Winter Soldier. The broken leg of a chair whooshed through the air, and Clint ducked at the last moment. It hit the wall, leaving a gash that showed the drywall underneath the paint and primer.

He dived to the side as the leg came at him again, backhanded this time, and rolled to his feet, prepared to defend himself. Maybe he could appeal to the side of Justin that felt so much remorse for the things HYDRA had made him do that he had to write it down to get it out of his head. From his actions, it had the opposite effect.

Keeping his voice even and soothing, Clint called out, "Justin, stop. It's me, Clint. Let's sit down and talk about this." Justin switched the chair leg to the other hand by flipping it in the air and catching it. The look on his face was difficult to define. Anger, singlemindedness, stop me before I kill again. Whatever it was, Clint had to get through to him somehow. "I know what you're going through. Been through it myself. I was just lucky enough to have my wife and kids to hold onto."

Justin continued to swing the piece of wood, and Clint moved backward, staying just out of reach. He had to end this soon, or he'd run out of steam long before Justin did.

"If you let them, your family would help you through it, like mine did. Or talk to that girlfriend of yours. What's her name?"

Once again, Justin tried to hit Clint, and again, he missed, leaving Justin's left side unprotected. Clint stepped into the punch he jammed into Justin's ribs. The younger man paused, but only a moment. Instead of hurting him, Clint appeared to have incited his ire.

The chair leg was dropped, and Clint barely managed to evade Justin's backfist that was meant to take his head off, or break his neck. Dodging the fist, Clint aimed another punch at Justin's jaw. It didn't faze him in the least. He followed it quickly with a punch to the solar plexus, and found himself on the floor literally seeing stars when Justin retaliated by backhanding him.

Momentarily stunned, Clint lay on the floor, groaning, "Oh, that's gonna leave a mark."

He rolled out of the way of a sneaker-clad foot, ducked between Justin's legs, and was on his feet again before the other man could turn around.

Without any other ideas for stopping the former Winter Soldier, Clint jumped on his back, attempting to get him in a sleeper hold. It ultimately proved futile as Justin reached back with both hands, grabbed handfuls of Clint's shirt, and flung up and over his head, body slamming him to the floor.

Moaning, Clint got to his hands and knees, then to his feet, swaying while trying to bring his hands up to protect himself. When the expected punch didn't come, Clint's vision cleared just as Justin lashed out with the heel of his right foot, catching him in the stomach.

Clint staggered backward out of control through the open front door. To his horror, the railing hit him on the back of his thighs. Arms flailing in the air, he felt himself toppling backwards, knowing that twenty feet below was the solid concrete surrounding the pool. He was no super-soldier. It was doubtful he would survive the impact.

 **TBC**

Spiffylicious - beyond cool


	107. Chapter 107

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 107**

As he toppled backward, Clint grabbed the upper railing, stopping his fall. Justin followed up the kick by coming at him with clenched fists. From the look in his eyes, he wasn't aware of what he was doing. That would make this harder.

Clint let Justin think he was falling then brought his knees to his chest, and flipped over, his feet catching the narrow ledge outside the rail. He grabbed the stabilizing bar with both hands, and swung around, getting the younger man in the stomach, knocking him into the apartment. Using the momentum, Clint landed on his feet, frantically searching for a way to end this, and could only come up with one idea.

Once inside, Clint slammed the door and locked it. As Justin came toward him again, he stepped into a fake punch. Instead, he smacked him in the chest as he passed on the right, and brought his left leg forward, and back, knocking Justin off his feet. He rolled over, preparing to stand, and Clint took the opportunity to get him in a half-nelson. With his mouth close to Justin's ear, Clint whispered, "Justin, stop! You're scaring Dexter."

Suddenly, all the fight went out of Justin, though his muscles remained tense. Soon, he relaxed, and Clint let him go.

Justin sat down, one leg up, and the other bent. He panted while his eyes stayed glued to Clint. Finally, he looked away as he used the knuckle of his index finger to wipe away a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

Barely able to move, Clint somehow managed to get to his feet. He stumbled to the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels. Taking several ice cubes from the freezer, Clint wrapped them in paper towels, and applied the makeshift ice pack to the eye that throbbed with every beat of his heart.

In the living room, Justin was still sitting on the floor, staring at his lap. He accepted the paper towels, using them to dab at his lip, glancing at Clint and away. "Dexter's with Wanda and Pietro."

Clint let himself down across from Justin with a grunt. "It worked, didn't it?" He waved at the carnage with his free hand. "What brought this on?"

Justin opened and closed his mouth then shook his head. "I've been in therapy, group, not individual. The shrink's not helping, and the others in the group don't believe my story. And Chase… He's the one who should understand me better than anyone else, and there's things I just can't say to him. It's so frustrating that no one understands what I went through. I mean Gramps does, sort of, but he was conditioned by Bruce not to remember the details, like names and places. Besides, he's got the twins and Nat, and another baby on the way. He doesn't need to listen to _my_ problems." He rolled the paper towels into a ball. "I've tried to not let it get to me, but…"

"I know how it feels to have your mind taken over, have someone else's thoughts replace yours, and you're powerless to stop it."

A skeptical glance came his way. "Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, pal." Clint raised his knees, and rested his arms on them. "There's always more to a situation or event than what is seen on the surface, or what the news agencies report."

"Such as…"

Did he want to bare his soul for Justin's perusal? Not really, but if it would help the kid to know he wasn't alone… "The Battle for New York, the alien invasion over Manhattan. What you heard from Nat and on television isn't the whole story. Not by a longshot. I know for a fact that she downplayed most of what happened so the family wouldn't worry about her and Steve." His audience of one waited silently. "The night it all started, Loki came through the portal created by the Tesseract. The first person he took control of was me, and I couldn't do a ******* thing to stop him."

"Nat said you helped end the invasion."

"That was after she got me away from Loki's influence using a method she refers to as cognitive recalibration." At Justin's blank look, Clint explained. "She hit me really hard in the head." That finally got a smile out of him. "Don't forget, your grandfather got away, and so did you."

Justin climbed to his feet, and went to the kitchen sink to splash water on his face. "Gramps only got away because Joi accidentally discovered the magic words that turned him into the Winter Soldier. _I_ got away because Zeya had a guilty conscience."

Climbing painfully to his feet, Clint set an overturned chair upright and dropped into it with a grunt. "The point is you got away, and there's nothing they can do to get you back. You just have to deal with the fallout and move on, or you and that girlfriend won't ever see each other again." Drying his face let Justin avoid Clint's eyes. "You _do_ want to see her, right?"

"Yeah. But…"

"Then things have got to change." Crossing his arms, Clint leveled a glare at the younger man. "Speaking of butts, get yours showered and changed. We're expected for dinner at Nat's." Justin started down the hallway, stopping when Clint continued. "And anytime you need someone to talk to, call me. Day or night."

Justin nodded once, and vanished into the bathroom. Looking around, Clint found a piece of broken mirror, using a towel to pick it up, he peered at his face, turning side to side. The skin around his left eye and the side of his cheek were already turning a bluish-purple. "Shit. Not again. Laura's gonna have a fit."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Momentarily disoriented, Natasha sat up in bed, stretched, and yawned before tossing the quilt aside, swinging her feet to the floor. Out the window, she could see the last thin line of daylight fading to a dark blue that would give way to the blackness of night. By her internal clock, she'd slept about two hours or so.

The smell of food cooking made her stomach growl. She went to relieve her bladder and splash water on her face. Her clothes were wrinkled and felt like she was a snake shedding its skin. Going to the closet, she pulled out one of her husband's favorite outfits: an off-the-shoulder cream colored sweater, black slacks, and black ballet slippers. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she reminded herself that she wouldn't be able to wear it much longer.

At the vanity, Natasha dragged the brush through her hair, smoothed on dark mauve lipstick, and pronounced herself ready.

As she was going down the stairs, the front door opened and slammed so quickly she barely registered it. "Don't slam the door, Pietro!" she shouted to the air, uncertain where he'd gone. Her hair flew in her face as her son appeared next to her, grinning like Clint when he's up to no good. "Sorry, Mother." He slipped his arm around her shoulders. "How are you feeling? I have heard that women who are with child are often sick."

Touched by his concern, Natasha pressed her hand to his chest. This close, she could smell sweat and the lingering scent of the grass and trees from the park. "I'm fine. Morning sickness won't become a problem for another few weeks." She nudged him away. "Go shower and change, please. We're having company for dinner."

"I must also feed Dexter before we eat, if I can get him away from Ryder and Priscilla." He smiled fondly.

Before Natasha could respond, her son was gone again. She heard the refrigerator open and close in rapid succession, and Bucky yelled, " _Watch it, pal! I'm cooking here_."

From the second floor, Pietro shouted back, " _Sorry, Father!_ "

~~O~~

Using an oven mitt, Bucky pulled the middle rack out to check the food. It would be done in thirty minutes, give or take. He turned from the stove at hearing Natasha's voice speaking to Pietro. That meant Wanda would be home soon. As if his thoughts had made it happen, the front door opened and closed again, and he could hear their daughter and Natasha talking. Wanda sounded excited about something, but the buzzer went off, and he couldn't hear.

He opened the oven and slid the cookie sheet of biscuits onto the bottom rack. While that was working, he plugged in the tabletop grill and turned it on so he could grill the vegetables to go with the hollandaise sauce simmering on the stove.

A pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist, and Natasha whispered, "Mmm. Do you have any idea how sexy you look in that apron?"

Bucky removed the oven mitt, and turned to face her. "Just think how sexy I'd look wearing the apron and nothing else."

"O-oh! You're giving me naughty ideas."

He kissed her lips and along her jaw, back to her ear. "You can tell me about them later. After the kids go to bed, and our company has left."

The doorbell rang, but before Natasha could move from Bucky's arms to get it, Pietro was at the door, expressing his surprise that Justin had come with Clint. There was something in Justin's voice that set Bucky's nerves on edge. Natasha's too, to go by the stiffness in her body. He let her go, and she breezed out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

~~O~~

Brushing off Natasha and Pietro's concern over his black eye, Clint left the family alone in the foyer and meandered into the kitchen, puzzled to see Bucky leaning against the counter, breathing heavily.

"Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He straightened his back, and hooked a thumb at the kettle on the stove. "Mind getting that ready while I finish cooking dinner?"

"Sure." Clint took out cups, saucers, a tray, the sweetener caddy, and retrieved the container of creamer from the refrigerator. Instead of coffee, Bucky had chosen Chia tea, decaf, if he had to guess. He opened cabinets until he found the honey, and set that on the tray too.

Bucky had already filled the teapot with hot water to warm it. Clint dumped the water out, and poured the kettle over the tea strainer. The teapot matched the cups and saucers. All were plain white with elegant lines that would match almost any similar styled mid-priced china set. "You should know Justin's balancing on an emotional edge right now." Bucky looked over his shoulder while stirring the hollandaise sauce Clint had smelled the moment he arrived. "Personally, I think the group therapy is doing more harm than good. He needs… compassion, someone to talk to who empathizes. Someone who's been there."

"What do you suggest?"

"I could use another hand rebuilding the barn, and also at the winery. If he agrees, I'll take him back with me, and put him to work away from everything that reminds him of what he'd lost."

One shoulder lifted and dropped as Bucky shoved his hands into mitts, and opened the oven. "We can't force him to get help if he doesn't want it, or doesn't think he needs it." He set a large pan on a pair of trivets, bringing with it the enticing scent of meatloaf. Mac and cheese joined it, and then the biscuits made an appearance. "I'll talk to him if you like."

"Please. He respects your opinions, and would be more likely to agree, if he thought it was your idea." Clint found a bowl for the sauce in a cabinet, and serving utensils in the drawers, placing a spoon in the mac and cheese, and a spatula in the meatloaf. "What about his parents? Do they know the whole story?"

"Not really. They were told he spent the time in Russia, undercover." Bucky gave him a side-eye while preparing marinated asparagus for grilling. "You're not worried about him being around your family?"

Clint crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "No more than I was when SHIELD's shrinks finally let me go home after New York." If ever there was a time to let Bucky in on what he found while at Justin's it was now. It would also let him off the hook for talking to Steve about it because Bucky would take it as his duty as Steve's best friend to take him aside. "Look, James, there's something I think you should know."

Distracted by his task, Bucky muttered, "Hmm?"

The pause was just long enough that Clint decided he couldn't do it. Now he had to come up with something else, and fast. He washed his hands, and edged Bucky out of the way to finish off the asparagus himself. Keeping his voice low, he said, "Don't tell Nat yet, but we found out we're having a boy. His name's going to be Nathaniel. Still working on a middle name."

"My lips are sealed," he was told as Bucky picked up the meatloaf and carried it to the dining room.

While he was gone, Clint quickly placed all the biscuits in a basket he found in the upper cupboard. Bucky came back for the mac and cheese, and by then Clint had transferred the asparagus to a plate he'd warmed in the microwave. He set the dish on the tea tray, and carried both out to the dining room, with Bucky bringing the sauce.

Through the back window, Clint could see Justin swinging in the gazebo. Wanda tentatively approached him, stopping at the bottom of the steps. No doubt sensing the turmoil in his mind. He waved, and she joined him on the swing. She spoke to him, one hand moving toward his head, a swirl of red mist dancing around her fingers. Before she could do more, Justin grabbed her by the wrist, and shook his head.

Wanda left the gazebo, stopping to look back at Justin, her expression sad. By the time she reached the back door, Justin got up, and followed at a much slower rate.

Clint waited for the Barnes family to take their seats before doing so himself, not surprised when they held hands to say grace. Justin was the lone holdout, though he eventually allowed Clint and Pietro to hold his hands, completing the circle.

~~O~~

Sitting at the far end of the table across from Clint, Justin watched his grandfather interacting with Natasha and the twins, the expression on his face one of affection and genuine caring. He remembered having those same emotions shown to and by him for others, especially his family, his friends, and more.

He was supposed to be finding himself again, and instead, he was even more lost than before. One by one, he tracked each and every erroneous and flawed decision since he left HYDRA, searching for a way to make himself once more worthy of the love he'd taken for granted most of his life.

The bowl of mac and cheese was passed to Justin by Pietro. He scooped some onto his plate, tossing a glance at Bucky as Clint took the bowl. "So, Gramps, how did Mom take it when she heard you and Nat are expecting?"

Bucky poured sauce over his asparagus, and grinned. "Better than I thought. Said she was happy for us, and sounded like she meant it."

He tried on a smile, and it felt good, if a little forced. "She probably does. You know how bad she is at lying."

His grandfather clasped Nat's hand. "We've already picked names."

This time, the smile came easier. "Yeah?"

"Actually," Nat's gazed lovingly at Bucky, "my genius husband chose the names. Abigail Esme Romanoff-Barnes and Benjamin Thomas Romanoff-Barnes."

Around a mouthful of food, Clint commented, "The last names are a little overdone. Why not have the girl be a Barnes, and the boy be a Romanoff. Then, when they're old enough, they can choose which one to stick with for the rest of their lives."

For a moment, Bucky looked panicked. "They? We're not having twins, Clint. There's just one."

Everyone looked at Wanda, who was pushing food around on her plate while chewing. She swallowed, and took a long sip of tea before responding. "You should not make a habit of having me peek into people's minds, Father. With or without their permission," she admonished him. "But because it's you, I will do it just this once." The girl breathed deeply a few times then picked up her fork again. "There is only one child. And no, I cannot tell the gender. As with Laura, it is too small."

The meal continued until everyone had their fill, and the conversation from then on was pleasantly mind-numbing for Justin. Sitting there, soaking in family life again, he wanted more than anything to fully be a part, but some of his most recent choices had lacked any element of good judgment, making him realize that he needed time.

While helping Clint wash the dishes, Justin remembered he had plans this weekend with Marshall. As if he could read his mind, Clint passed him a dish to dry, and giving him an unreadable glance. "I'm gonna talk to the kids tonight, see how they want their rooms remodeled. When the work starts, how about lending a hand?"

Justin opened an upper cabinet to put away the stack of plates he'd dried. "I don't know. After today…"

"That's why I'm asking. Keeping busy helps with the stress."

"PTSD. I know." He glanced over his shoulder, and lowered his voice. "I really thought I was getting better, especially after the fight with Chase and the night we spent in jail." Thankfully, Clint didn't ask questions about one of his recent low points. "After Rey broke up with me…"

Clint snickered. "You had sex with anything that would lie still long enough."

Waggling his hand, Justin accepted another dish to dry with the other. "Been drinking, a _lot_. Not that it does any good 'cause the Barnes family doesn't get drunk."

"On the upside, you rescued an orphaned kitten that would otherwise have died." The sink gurgled as the water went out. "You said he was here."

Done with the dishes and putting the food away, Justin felt a small bit of excitement for the first time in days. "Right. Wanna meet him?"

Clint waved in the direction of the living room where the twins were playing a video game, and Natasha and Bucky were cheering them on.

~~O~~

"No cheating, Pietro!" Wanda shouted at her brother sitting a few feet to her right.

Pietro leaned side to side as if he were really driving the racecar on the screen. "I am not _cheating_. I'm just better at this than you are." The cars on the screen sped toward the finish line, Wanda's coming in a half car length behind her brother's. He jumped up and did a victory dance, sudden noticing that she was looking over her shoulder.

Clint and Justin came into the room, the younger man doing the talking. "We're finished cleaning up. Clint wants to meet Dexter."

Wanda scrambled to her feet, drawing both men to the window that peeked into the room where the cats slept at night, pointing. Pietro knew what they would see: Priscilla and Ryder asleep in one of the cat beds with Dexter snuggled between them.

Without asking, Justin led Clint into the room so he could get a better look at the kitten that was still so tiny compared to the other two. Pietro and Wanda tiptoed in behind them. They shared smiles when Dexter stuck his head up, blinking sleepily. He yawned, and stretched one paw then began licking it enthusiastically, as if he'd just remembered that he'd forgotten to wash after dinner.

Justin knelt down to rub a finger over the little tabby-colored head. Upon feeling a familiar touch, he wiggled free, meowing for Justin's attention. He picked the baby up, and held him close, whispering soothing words. "Hey, buddy. Miss me? I missed you too."

Pietro turned around when Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, and took the bottle he held out. He handed the bottle to Justin. "It's time for his feeding."

The group laughed quietly when Justin put the kitten on this knee, belly down, and Dexter latched onto the nipple like he hadn't eaten in days. All the time, he alternated flexing his paws, the tiny claws barely penetrating Justin's jeans. Pietro read that it was called "making biscuits" or "making muffins". When kittens had a mother, they instinctively did this to stimulate the milk flow. Clint nudged him with an elbow. "Pietro, my man, the next time you and the fam come to visit, I'll let you bottle feed one of the lambs."

"Let me?" he nearly shrieked. Holding his hands up, Pietro backed away, and headed for the door. "I am caring for Dexter for Justin, not because I want to make it my life's work."

Suddenly, Clint was beside him. "Did it sound like it was a request, pal?" He slapped Pietro on the back. "Let's have a look at your room, get an idea what you want it to look like."

"That's the first thing you've said tonight that I agree with."

As they passed through the living room, Pietro noticed that his parents were no longer on the sofa. He sent a ping to Wanda, and she sent back that they were out in the gazebo watching the stars. There was no embarrassment in her response, so they were not making out… for once. It seemed that their parents took every opportunity, or made one, to be overly affectionate with each other, alone or in front of their children. They did tone it down in public, to his and Wanda's relief. Well, most of the time.

Clint tugged on his sleeve. "Look alive there, kid. We got work to do."

"Coming, Uncle Clint." He said it with a touch of sarcasm, and Clint responded with a mock scowl as they went into Pietro's room and closed the door.

 **The Lockwood Home**

 **Springfield, Virginia**

Martin opened the sliding door to let Scamp, Bruno and Trixie out to run in the yard while he and Carolyn were eating dinner. He filled the dishes with fresh water, went to the sink to wash and dry his hands, and carried the salad bowls to the small table by the window. With all the kids out of the house, they didn't often use the dining room. Just when they had company.

Carolyn followed with their plates while Marten went back for the drinks. He set a glass of iced tea in front of each place and sat down. "You've been quiet since Dad told us about Nat. Are you upset they're having a baby?"

Her head came up, as if she'd forgotten he was there. She pushed the food around on her plate. "Why would I be upset? Just because my father's almost a hundred years old, married to a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, and now they're having a baby? What's there to be upset about?"

He gave his wife a knowing smile. "Because, my dear, I know how your mind works, and if you had your way, Dad would be alone and miserable without your mom, not remarried with two teenage adoptees, and a new one on the way." Carolyn angrily stabbed her salad. He grabbed her hand to stop it. "Did you really expect him to mourn his dead wife for the rest of his life?"

Carolyn lay down her fork and picked up her glass. "No. But I thought he'd find someone more like…"

"Like Mom? You know as well as I do that the heart wants what the heart wants. And your father's heart wants Nat."

"I know. It's just… I don't know how to explain it. Nat is as crazy about Dad as he is about her, and that's okay, but it's not." She huffed in annoyance. "I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"

Martin picked up Carolyn's fork and held it out. "Sometimes words aren't necessary. Now eat up. And while you rest, I'll do the dishes."

They finished eating, and true to his word, Martin cleaned the kitchen while Carolyn went into the living room to read her book until he was done.

~~O~~

Carolyn laid her book aside when Martin came into the room, and took a seat next to her. He belched, and she immediately took his hand. "Too much curry in the rice again?"

He got a pained look in his eyes and belched again. "I'll have to give it up, or continue to suffer."

"You poor dear," she said while touching his cheek with her free hand. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"A kiss from my wife makes everything better." They kissed, long and sweet, and when they separated, Carolyn snuggled into her husband's embrace to watch the movie she'd cued up. "I mean that. I feel better already."

She put a finger to her lips for quiet, and laid her head on his shoulder.

 **TBC**


	108. Chapter 108

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 108**

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The door of Pietro's room opened, and Clint stepped out, still making notes in his phone. "Got it. I'll see what I can do." He saw Wanda, and smiled. "Your turn."

Wanda stopped in front of her door, and Clint joined her. "I have not been able to make up my mind about colors. Mother says that we will also have new carpet, as well as curtains."

"Why don't you show me what you have, and we'll work it out." She opened the door, and Clint followed her in. He stopped her when she made to close the door, pushing it all the way open. "Don't want your folks to think something's up."

She scowled at him, hands on her hips. "They would not think that of you."

"Still, it's best to go with what works." Wanda watched Clint roam around the room while making notes in his phone. "I'm just eyeballing the measurements for now." He looked at her and went back to work. "Nat tells me you lied about your age to get adopted."

"We did. Is that a problem?"

Clint snorted. "Not for me. But won't you be going off to college next year?"

"Pietro and I have not discussed university beyond agreeing that we would prefer to attend locally in order to live at home. The baby will be born in a few months, and we want to be here to help out when it is needed."

"Admirable." He waved at the dark curtains that fully covered the windows, letting in almost no light. "What's up with that?"

Wanda sat on the side of the narrow bed, reaching for the laptop. "I sleep better when the room is dark." She booted up, and opened the file where her ideas had been saved. "Mother and Father have told us we can have the rooms redone however we see fit. To start with, I would like a bigger bed. In this one, cats fall off when I roll over."

"That's doable. What've you got in mind?"

 **The Yin Home**

The scent of food drew Xiaoli and her older brother, Jinhai, to the kitchen. The girl's appearance was vastly different from when she'd gone to pick up Wanda so they could study. The purple curl was gone, along with all traces of make-up, and the clothes. Now she wore her hair down, in a ponytail, blue jeans, and a long sleeved t-shirt that had slipped off one shoulder revealing the black tank top underneath. On the front were the words "mind" above "matter" with a horizontal line between them.

The siblings set the table, and returned to the kitchen to wash their hands to help carry the food to the dining room. The family of four took their places around the table, and starting with her father, passed the food around.

Xiaoli looked up to see her brother watching her. "What?"

"You didn't introduce me to your new friend while she was here, Xiao. Isn't that being a bad hostess?"

She scowled good naturedly. "Wanda's sweet and a little naïve, and you are _not_ tarnishing her with your corrupting influence."

"Just because I'm a man of science who happens to also be good at sports?" Xiaoli snorted when Jinhai flexed his biceps. "All I want is an intro. Nothing more. I mean, we see her and her brother on the field for PE, but they don't hang around to talk afterwards, not much. She has an interesting accent."

To let him believe she was thinking it over, Xiaoli tilted her head to the side, then scooped up a forkful of creamed spinach. "No." She put the food in her mouth and chewed while pretending to ignore him.

"But Xiao…"

Their mother, whose hair was still jet black in spite of her years, looked at her son. "That's enough, Jin. If she doesn't want her friend to meet you, don't force it."

" _Fine_."

Though her brother seemed to have given up, she knew better. His scientist's mind was working on a plan while he pretended to be interested in their father's exploits at work and their mother's plans for the garden next spring.

When dinner was over, the siblings rinsed and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. Xiaoli started it while Jinhai took out the trash and the recyclables. He came in the back door just as she was putting fresh water down for the dog, leaning on the counter with his arms and ankles crossed. "I get that you don't want me sullying your snow white friend, so how about this: we go on a double date. Me and Wanda, and you and her brother."

"His name's _Pietro_ , Jimmy. Maybe we can do a group thing with other kids so you can get to know both of them." Her brother looked stubborn, so she added, "I'll talk to Wanda over Thanksgiving break. See what we can work out." She poked him in the chest. "Before you start anything with Wanda, remember you're going off to medical school next fall. She wants to stay local so she can be near her folks."

"What if I promise not to break her heart?"

Xiaoli turned around, her long hair flying. "See that you don't, or you'll have her entire family _and_ me to worry about."

"What if she breaks _my_ heart?" Jinhai wanted to know.

Hands on her hips, she faced him again. "Don't get so far ahead of yourself, Jimmy. She may not like you."

"What's not to like?" her brother exclaimed as she went into her room and closed him out. He shouted through the door, " _I'm a great guy!_ "

Shaking her head, Xiaoli booted up her computer to work on a paper due the following week, without honoring his comment with a response. Jinhai muttered a word not usually spoken in polite company. His footsteps stomped down the hall; his door opened and slammed, to let her know he was ticked off. _Too freakin' bad._

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Alone in her room, Wanda sighed with relief and a small amount of excitement that the room would soon be made over into her vision of perfection. With that out of the way, she closed the file on her bedroom ideas, and opened a new browser to search for her Halloween costume.

After nearly thirty minutes of frustrated online searching, she finally found just what she was looking for. She'd saved up for it, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was on sale with free three-day shipping. That way, if it didn't fit properly, she could get help with the alterations from Willa. Two of the accessories weren't exact, but they would do. Again, she could enlist help. Rishima was good at making nothing look like something. The last item she needed was the wig, and that could be gotten at any costume shop.

Wanda only barely envied her brother that his costume could be made from clothing already in his closet because hers was going to be awesome. Pietro agreed to do a group thing with Chase and Justin, but who knew if Justin would still want to do it, what with the turmoil in his mind. He tried to hide it by putting up a barrier. However, unlike the last time they talked, the day he brought Dexter and a week's worth of formula, his anxiety and torment leaked through in such a way that it felt like a weakening dam. Too much pressure at the wrong moment, and the "dam" would burst.

She set the alarm to remind her to feed the kitten, and went about removing all her belongings from the walk-in closet and carrying them down to the den, along with boxes of other personal items, so Clint could start work in the few days.

Gathering up a stack of clothes on hangers, Wanda lifted them off the bar, realizing too late that she had taken more than she could easily carry. Still, she headed down the stairs, holding them off to the side so she could see where she was going. She was just ten steps from the bottom when she tripped. Bracing for the blow and the pain that would come with it, she was surprised when it didn't happen. She felt strong arms holding her, and looked into Bucky's worried eyes.

He set her on her feet, holding on until she got her balance. "You okay, baby girl?"

Legs shaking, she gripped his shoulders, and nodded. "Yes, thank you. It's my own fault. I should not have been carrying so much at once."

"Well, take it easy from now on."

"I will." Bucky helped pick everything up and carry it to the den. Still a little shy about not using his first name, Wanda wondered, "Father, why do you call your female children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren 'baby girl'?"

He chuckled softly as she handed him clothes and he hung them in the closet. "It started when your sister Carolyn was born. Connie and I couldn't agree on a name, so the first couple of weeks we just called her 'baby girl', and it became a habit, I suppose."

"But you do not call the males 'baby boy'. The words you use are 'pal', 'buddy' and 'buster'. Why is that?"

Bucky tossed a wry grin over his shoulder as he hung the last of the clothes in the closet. "Guess it's because Connie and I never disagreed on what to call the boys. It was a given that the first boy would be called Steven James. Jacob was Connie's grandfather's name. He died when she was in high school." His smile widened into a grin. "Olivia was named after my favorite actress, Olivia de Havilland. She was born the year before me."

"When did she die?"

"She's not dead, baby girl. She turned ninety-eight this year. Hasn't acted since the eighties though." His eyes lit up. "Let's watch one of her films for movie night this week."

Happy that her adopted father wanted to share cherished memories with her, Wanda smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please."

"We'll do one of her comedies. She was always good for a laugh." They left the den; Wanda looked up at the stairs and sighed. Bucky took hold of her hand. "Come on. I'll help you bring the rest of your things down. Many hands make light work, as they say."

~~O~~

Watching her husband with their daughter, Natasha felt affection and pride for both. If anyone could put others at ease, it was Bucky.

She felt a presence come up beside her, and a moment later, Clint laid his arm around her shoulders. "Found yourself a keeper, Nat. He's a good guy."

"I know." They went to sit in the living room, Clint in the chair, and Natasha on the end of the sofa. "Sometimes, I think how amazing it is that I got so lucky. If it wasn't for Steve catching him at literally the last second, none of this would be here. He would've died in 1944, and never married, never had kids, grandkids, or great grandkids. We would never have met, married and adopted the twins. They might've fallen in with the wrong crowd, and ended up as criminals instead of the good kids they are." She placed a hand protectively on her abdomen. "And for sure I wouldn't be having a baby."

Clint crossed one leg over the other, looking thoughtful. "I feel the same about Laura. If her half-brother hadn't hired me to do some repairs to his family home so he could sell it after his mother died, I wouldn't have met her." He looked around, and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "Ever get the feeling that in some alternate universe, you and I might've…"

"Been more than just friends?" Natasha thought about it for a moment. "Nah. Never happen." Her best friend chuckled softly, ending it on a yawn. "Stay the night, Clint. Your choices are the love seat in the den, the sofa, or the bed in the cat's room."

He had to be more tired that he let on if he didn't fight her on this. "What about Justin?"

"I was about to ask. Where is he?"

"That boy needs more physical activity than a normal person, so I sent him into the woods to find three or four dead trees to chop up for firewood. Just to keep him busy." A thumb jabbed over his shoulder. "Stack it at the curb with a "for sale" sign, and it'll be gone in a couple of days."

They wandered over to the window just as Justin tossed a tree over the fence to join those already lying in a jumble. He jumped the fence with no effort, removed his shirt, leaving on the white tank shirt he wore underneath, and went to work with a saw, cutting the trees into pieces that he would then chop up into logs for the fire.

Clint moved away, and Natasha followed. "Need something to wear to bed?"

"I've got a bag in the quinjet. Brought one for Justin, too." He looked down at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets. "He _wants_ to be around caring family and friends, but he _needs_ to be separated from the places and people who remind him of what he lost. That's why I'm taking him back to Columbia with me, if he'll go."

"I'll have a talk with him." He trailed after Natasha in the direction of the downstairs bathroom. She opened a cabinet to the left of the door, and took out two towels. "Work out between you who sleeps where. Play games. Watch movies. Whatever you want. I've got research to do."

Her friend was taken aback. "Not going on a mission, are you?"

"Of course not, _eblan_. I'm looking at baby furniture and gender-neutral baby clothes."

"We still have Cooper and Lila's, if you want them."

Natasha poked him in the chest. "You're going to need one or the other in a few months. Wait until you find out which you're having."

"Right."

Something in the tone of his voice gave Natasha pause. She put it down to her imagination, caused by the increase in hormones she would be experiencing for the next seven and a half months, and left Clint alone to shower and change.

 **The Pryce Home**

The dryer buzzed, but Collin couldn't hear it as he put together a crib in the nursery. A few minutes later, Milo came in and sat on the paper with assembly directions. It was the cat's way of getting his attention when something was going on.

He stood, and Milo trotted ahead of him down the hall to the laundry room off the back porch. Collin took the clothes out of the dryer, and dropped them in a laundry basket. Then he moved the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer, started it, and carried the basket to the bedroom where he hung up the clothes that went in the closet, and put the rest in the dresser.

He looked down when Milo patted his leg, and turned to find Serenity sitting on the side of the bed.

* _Feeling better?_ *

She nodded, signing back ** _I am. Finding out we're having twins isn't something I was prepared for._ **

* _Neither was I. While you were sleeping, I bought another crib, cradle, and car seat. We won't need them for a few months, but I didn't want to wait._ *

** _I've been thinking about names. If they're boys, Justin Trent and James Dalton._ **

Collin tried the names out in his head. * _JT and JD. And for girls, Justine Tessa and Jamie Denay._ * He kissed his wife, and stood, giving one hand a squeeze. Milo patted his leg again, and he looked down to see the cat tapping his mouth with a paw. Serenity and he had taught the cat some basic signs. This one meant "eat". * _Time to feed him again. Come out when you're ready, and I'll make you a snack, if you feel up to it._ *

Serenity held up her right hand with the two middle fingers curled in and the others extended in a combination of I, L and Y, meaning "I love you."

As he backed out the door, he returned the sign with one hand, holding up two fingers on the other. * _I love you too_.*

 **Meadowlark Condominiums**

The non-descript car parked across the street, but the driver didn't immediately get out. He rolled the window down, and watched the front of the only condo with an okame cherry tree in the back yard. The canopy of leaves could just be seen over the roof. Thinking back to all the times he'd sat under that tree writing music, and practicing the guitar, he realized that he missed it, yet he didn't.

The man's name was Sean Riggs, former lead guitarist and vocalist for Ambiguous, and he was looking for someone specific who had yet to show up. In fact, no one had come or gone in the past two days. Not while he'd been watching, and gathering the courage to go knock on the door.

The sun had just gone down, and Sean was too restless to sit and watch an empty condo. But before he could start the car, a light came on in the front window, joining the faint glow from another that had obviously been meant to deter burglars.

The silhouette if a man flashed briefly on the blinds as he moved between the light source and the windows. Harsher light joined the others, and Sean supposed it was the television. Though when he'd lived here, the owner had kept the seldom-used device at the opposite end of the room, inside an armoire so it could be hidden. It had primarily used to play video games and to watch the occasional DVD. Much had changed in the years he'd stayed away.

Gathering his courage, Sean opened the car door, and got out. He straightened his clothes, and ran a hand through his hair. Looking at his hand, he saw that a small handful of the dark strands had fallen out. Unfortunately, it would continue to do so for some time. And that's why he was here.

He let himself in through the gate, strode up to the building and onto the small patio. Raising his hand to knock, he almost chickened out. "What the hell? I'm here."

His knock was answered within seconds, as if the occupant were expecting someone.

"Yeah?"

The man was bigger and bulkier than the one Sean expected, leaving him momentarily stunned. "Uh, I'm looking for Justin Lockwood."

"Who?"

"Justin Lockwood."

The big man shook his head. "Dunno anyone by that name, pal. I've lived here for two and a half years." His mouth twisted in derision. "Wife cheated on me, and _she_ got the house. Life just ain't fair."

Considering the reason he left Ambiguous and why he was here now, Sean agreed. "You got that right. Sorry I bothered you."

Sean got back in the car and just sat behind the wheel for a while, thinking about his next step. He could call Justin's brother, but who knew what he'd been told about their break-up. _Couldn't hurt to try, even if he does hang up in your face_.

Using his thumb, he scrolled the contact list until he found a name he hadn't bothered to delete when he left Justin to go on tour. He hit dial before he lost his nerve again.

" _Chase Lockwood's phone. This is Iris._ "

Startled to hear the voice of the woman who'd thrown him out of Justin's club two nights before, Sean hung up without saying a word. If she had access to Chase's phone, and she was the manager of the Tunnel Vision, that meant either Chase had taken over controlling interest of the club and/or this Iris person was sleeping with Chase, which he could totally believe. "Or both."

The phone thumped into the passenger seat, Sean buckled his seatbelt, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. "What's going on? Where the hell's Justin?"

As he neared the highway, Sean smelled coffee, and it make his mouth water. He hadn't had coffee in almost a year under doctor's orders. Considering the results of his last check-up, it didn't matter if he indulged. Nothing would change the inevitable.

Sean pulled into the Java Hut, and parked. Before going inside, he tucked his longish hair up under a cap, and put on dark sunglasses, his usual disguise when he didn't want to be recognized in public. He strolled up to the counter, cautiously watching the people around him, but no one gave him a second look. It wasn't that he didn't like meeting his fans. He just wanted to be left alone for a while.

"Caramel Macchiato, decaf, lite on the caramel sauce, vente."

The young man at the register rang up his order, all the while, his eyes kept coming back to Sean, watching him with curiosity. "That'll be four-fifty, please."

Sean patted his back pockets, finding his phone, but not his wallet. He checked the pockets of his jacket, and found it. He flipped it open, but his vision blurred, and he couldn't tell which was his credit card. Swearing silently, he took off the sunglasses, found the card, and handed it over.

Unfortunately, his face was now in full view of the cashier and the baristas. The young man's eyes dropped to his left wrist where his tattoo could be seen below the sleeve of his jacket. He'd designed it himself. There wasn't another like it in the world. Not unless the ink artist used it without his permission. On either side were heartbeats with a heart off-center to the right, and inside the heart was a semicolon. "You're Sean Riggs of Ambiguous. Dude, sorry to hear about your troubles."

Confused, Sean scowled as a barista handed him a cardboard cup with a brown sleeve. "Don't know what you're talking about."

The cashier held his credit card, using it to emphasize each word. "I watched Blaze Maddox's interview with StarBeat Vlog." He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "I know where you can score just about anything you want."

Inside, Sean was seething. He'd never experimented with illegal drugs, much less become an addict. Blaze _knew_ why he'd had to separate himself from the tour, and had lied about it. "Just run the card so I can get out of here."

He handed the card back with a wink. "On me, Sean. Just remember what I said. My guy pays me a sort of finder's fee to bring him new business."

The one thing that bothered Sean about meeting fans were the ones who called you by your first name like you were their best friend. Instead of punching the guy out, he took his coffee, and left the shop.

In the car, he took out his phone, and hit speed-dial. The voice that answered sounded as it always did this early in the day: like he'd been dragged out of a deep, drug-induced sleep. But that was only partly true. If anyone in Ambiguous was a drug addict, they'd followed _Blaze's_ lead.

" _Wha' da ****? Who is dis?_ "

"Your worst nightmare, _Bernard_." Sean called Blaze by his given name to get his attention. The gasp on the other end let him know he had it. "You told the ******* _world_ I'm an addict."

A snort came through loud and clear, heavily laced with smugness. " _Yeah. So? What're you gonna do about, Riggs?_ "

"Do?" In a sugary sweet tone that would rot Blaze's teeth, the few he had left, Sean hissed, "Why, Bernard, I'm gonna ******* _kill_ you."

 **TBC**


	109. Chapter 109

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

mike 8663498543

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 109**

The anger inside Sean soared when Blaze laughed, long and loud, as if that were the funniest thing he'd heard in years. " _'N yer *******_ _nuts_ _, Riggs. We were gonna have Barbs kick you out._ "

"Barbs can't kick me out of the group _I_ started, asshole. I left because I had to. Now I'm gonna say this only once. After that, I'll get my lawyers involved. _Call_ that reporter and retract what you said about me being an addict or you will regret ever having crossed paths with me."

" _You hate me so much, why did you bring me in?_ "

He didn't want to say it, but he promised himself to only tell the truth going forward, no matter how much it hurt. "I was impressed by your skill with a guitar. You shred like Jimmy Page on _Heartbreaker_. It's your personality that needs work, and the reason I was going to replace you."

In the background, Sean heard a female voice, young, impressionable, and barely legal, if Blaze went with his SOP. " _I got news for ya. Me and the boys been planning a coup for over a year. Turns out you did the work for us, and it didn't cost us a dime in legal fees._ "

Too tired to continue matching wits with someone who was unarmed, Sean hung up the phone. Blaze had the other guys fooled into thinking that he was a better leader for the group. Wait until they find out that their new leader didn't have the charisma or connections to keep them in gigs once the tour was over. At least not the high-paying gigs. Barbs, Barbara Hannity, was their manager in name only. She had to be in on it.

Sean had been the one to do all the work. Negotiating with venues, picking only the best gigs, wheeling and dealing with the record company to get them a four-album contract that still had two albums to go.

Because of Blaze, the world now thought Sean had been kicked out. What Blaze Maddox, Hawk Wilder, Grey Vincent and Kane Maverick also didn't know was that Sean had seen the way the wind was blowing, and had a special clause written into the contract. It stated, in part, that the contract would be null and void if Sean left involuntarily, except in the case of serious injury or death. Too bad they all signed without having their attorneys look it over. Now they had to explain to Advent Records why a man by the name of Xander Phoenix had taken Sean's place as lead singer of Ambiguous.

"Love to see their faces when Grainger gives them bad news. I'd die a happy man." He buckled up, started the engine, and left the parking lot. "Or maybe I should just kill him. What're the cops gonna do, arrest me? I'd never stand trial."

With no real destination in mind, Sean drove around until he could barely stay awake then went back to his hotel, where he ordered room service. He took a shower while waiting for it to arrive, wondering, not for the first time why he needed to see Justin so badly. They'd parted on good terms, and from what their mutual friends told him, Justin hadn't let the grass grow under his bed. Not that he blamed him for jumping right back into the dating game.

The waiter knocked on the door just as he tied the belt to the hotel's complimentary bathrobe. He opened the door, and gestured for the young woman to put the tray on the table. She gave him an odd little smile, no doubt due to the fact that he'd lost even more hair in the shower.

Once she was gone, he muttered to the empty room as he poured a glass of water to take his pills, "It's gonna fall out anyway. I should let it take the ******* dirt with it."

Sean swallowed the pills, made himself as comfortable as possible at the table, and removed the cover from his unappetizing meal. He'd stayed at this hotel before. They had exceptional dining room and room service menus, with something for all tastes. The problem wasn't the food, it was him.

Picking up the spoon, Sean stirred the soup, watching the steam waft into the air, and disappear. He sighed, and loudly slurped a noodle, just because he could. _In fact, I'm planning on doing a lot of socially unacceptable things from now on_ , he thought as he rested his elbows on the table. _Within reason_.

 **The Smithsonian Institute**

 **Wednesday Afternoon**

The alarm on his phone beeped to remind Bucky of his appointment. He shut down the computer, and buzzed his assistant. "I'll be out of the office for the rest of the day, Gail. Text or email if you need me. I won't be where I can talk."

" _But try not to need you. Got it. See you tomorrow, boss._ "

The line disconnected, and Bucky wasted no time leaving. Within five minutes, he was pulling out of the parking garage into the pre-lunch time traffic that was already beginning to build, taking the highway to his appointment. With his connections, he could get almost anything he wanted with just a phone call or two, never more.

Forty minutes later, he left his SUV with the valet, and went inside to the diner, where he took a seat at a table. The person he'd arranged to meet would arrive soon, and together they'd go on the next leg of the journey, and all the while, Bucky would be kicking himself in the ass for lying to his wife and children. He felt lower than low, but it had to be done.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long."

Bucky turned at the sound of the lightly accented voice, immediately coming to his feet. "No, not at all. Please sit." He signaled for the waiter. "Let me get you something to drink then we'll go upstairs."

"Ginger ale and cranberry juice, just a little ice, with a lime wedge please."

The waiter hurried away to fill her order, and was back shortly. Because what they had to say to each other was private, they didn't speak until the waiter had moved out of earshot. "Thanks for meeting me here. I don't want my wife to find out."

"I fully understand, James."

Bucky raised his glass of club soda in a small salute. "And I appreciate your discretion, Helen."

Dr. Helen Cho inclined her head. "I'm happy to do a favor for a friend of a friend." She crossed her knees, making the hem of her dress ride up, exposing her lightly tanned thigh.

He only noticed as an aside to the fact that he was a married man meeting in secret with a single and highly attractive woman. Helen also appeared to have no idea just how attractive she was, though, in his opinion, not on the same level with Natasha, but then there were few women as stunning as his wife.

Bucky jumped at a gentle touch on his arm. "Huh?"

Helen watched him with concern. "Are you ready?"

"Uh, yeah. It's just…"

"You're worried about what your wife would say if she found out."

He took a few breaths, and nodded. "It took more than three years for her to agree to marry me. I've never lied to her before, and she's not one to forgive and forget."

"I understand. Depending on the outcome, she may never have to know how you spent your day away from work."

"My mom had a saying. 'From your mouth to God's ear.'"

Helen laughed, and it transformed her face from that of a thirty-ish, serious professional to a young woman, full of life and laughter. They stood together, and he extended his elbow. She wrapped her long slender fingers around the bend. Together they walked to the elevators, taking the ride to the top floor in silence. Helen led the way, and opened the door. He followed her in, and the door shut. At any moment, he could back out, leave, and return home to his wife and family.

The young scientist twisted her hair and secured it to the back of her head. "You can undress in there, and when you're ready, we'll get started."

"Right." Bucky went into the other room and closed the door.

 **Cabana Shores Hotel and Resort**

 **Hamilton, Ontario**

Joi put the finishing touches on her hair, smoothed on lip gloss, and left the bathroom. In the living room of the cabin she found her husband and daughter sitting on the floor in their pajamas, eating cereal and watching _Phineas and Ferb_.

Smiling with affection, she waited for the commercial to speak. "What're you two gonna do while I'm slaving over a hot stove?"

Steve took Alice's bowl, and carried his and hers to the sink. Alice jumped up, almost dancing with excitement. "Steve 'n me are going to…" she looked at Steve.

"Dundurn Park to visit the castle and the Hamilton Military Museum. After that, if we're not too tired, we may head down to the Waterfront Trail at Lookout Point."

"Yeah," Alice exclaimed. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

Joi brushed Alice's dark blonde hair off her face, "I'm so jealous. Too bad I can't go with you." She leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Go brush your teeth, young lady."

As if she'd forgotten, the girl ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. The water came on almost immediately. Joi shared a look with Steve, and they both chuckled as he took her in his arms for a long kiss. When they parted, she poked him in the chest. "You behave too, Stevie."

"Don't I always?"

"No!" Steve handed Joi her purse just as a car horn beeped outside. "That's my ride. See you later." She raised her voice, calling out, "Bye, Alice!"

The girl's muffled voice shouted back, "Bye, Mom!"

At the door, Joi turned to look at Steve. Alice had started calling them Mom and Dad on the flight to Canada the day before. Each time she heard it, Joi choked up. Steve too, by the way his breath hitched. She closed the door, put on a smile, and climbed into the back seat of the limo rented by Laz and Bella. Their reasoning was that they didn't want their stars stressed by driving in a strange country. Joi and Elyse appreciated it even if Frank complained, though his heart wasn't really in it. If Joi had to guess, he was thinking more about the woman he met in Italy, with whom he'd had a short and intense eight days. Every day, she thanked God that she had Steve and Alice, and was no longer a contestant in the dating game.

~~O~~

The bathroom door opened, and Alice rushed out, gripping the front of Steve's t-shirt. "What did Mom think of my Halloween idea?"

Steve went down on one knee in front of the girl. "She loved it. Grams will help make the costumes now that she's done making Gracie's."

"I saw hers the other day at Grams'. It's the _coolest_. And Gracie's mom said she could have her hair done to go with it."

"I heard." Taking her hand, Steve stood. "Let's get dressed. The castle tour starts at 10:30."

He turned to go to his and Joi's room. Alice stopped him, pointing at the bathroom. "Don't forget to brush your teeth."

Raising his free hand, he saluted with mock seriousness. "Yes, ma'am."

Alice returned the salute. "You are dismissed, Captain."

The door closed behind Steve, and he rushed to brush and get dressed because Alice tended to go outside without him or Joi, often forgetting that she had to stay with them. Back home, she also forgot to look both ways before crossing the street. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

Steve and Alice returned to the cabin's living room at the same time. He tied her sneakers, helped her into her pink jacket, and grabbed his own, putting it on as they stepped onto the porch that looked out over a small lake. People were already crisscrossing the water in rowboats. Frank, Elyse, Bella, and Laz were staying in the hotel. Joi and Steve had chosen a cabin to have more privacy while they were still getting to know their daughter.

Alice climbed into the back seat of the rented SUV, and made herself comfortable in the booster seat. He buckled her in, wiggled his nose at her, and she wiggled hers back.

Going around to the driver's side, Steve got behind the wheel, buckled in, and started the engine. "Ready to commence fun, General Alice?"

"Affirmative, Captain Steve."

"Then let's go!"

The dirt road from the lake to the hotel was narrow, only wide enough for one vehicle, with a small turn-around at the halfway point between the cabin and the road that took them back to the hotel, and from there to the 403, also known as Alexander Graham Bell Parkway, and Chedoke Expressway.

 **Rogue Noshery**

The diner was quiet, the patrons talking in whispers, and the music set to a subliminal level so that Wanda had to concentrate to hear it, yet found herself every so often, unconsciously humming along.

As they found their seats, Xiaoli's brother had tried to sit next to her, but his efforts were thwarted by Pietro and Xiaoli. She could feel his annoyance as he dropped into the chair on Pietro's other side.

Soon, they were joined by Willa Davenport, Robbie Madera, Rishima Jindal, and Gordon Murphy. They'd come to study, but ended up talking about the Halloween party the rec center was sponsoring the same night as Bucky's. Wanda didn't want to miss either one, and hoped that her parents would understand if she and Pietro left early to attend.

Of the group, Xiaoli had the most outgoing personality. Tonight, she wore a black and red plaid dress with straps that crossed in the back, a black long-sleeved top, black tights, and black combat boots, with red curls hanging down from both temples. She rapped on the table to get everyone's attention. "So, Wanda and I were talking, and we had this idea for a group costume. Three are already taken. We just need a few more to make it complete."

Pietro continued, "I will not be a part of the group as I am joining my nephews for a costume group. They are characters from an old television show." He shrugged one shoulder, and grinned. "The costume is easy, but I am having trouble with the accent."

Willa, white blonde, curvy, and the same height as Wanda, leaned around Robbie so she could see him. "What accent, Pee-yay-tro?" Her southern drawl added syllables to some words, the same way Gracie did, but for a different reason. It made Wanda think of hot biscuits warm from the oven, with butter and honey.

Wanda chuckled. "A southern one. He has been practicing, but it is _not_ going well."

The girl sat back in her chair. "Shoot, I can help you with that 'cause I just happen to _be_ from the south."

The next to speak was Rishima, an Indian girl with dark hair and unusually light brown eyes that were almost hazel. "How do we decide who gets to be who?"

Xiaoli pulled out slips of paper from the black backpack hanging on the back of her chair. "Each of you write down who you want to be. In the event that two want to be the same character, Wanda and I will make the final decision."

Once the character assignments had been handed out and everyone was somewhat happy, Wanda got up to get a drink refill from the fountain, and Jimmy followed. She saw him the last time she'd gone to Xiaoli's home, but hadn't been introduced. Her friend had taken hold of her hand, and dragged her down the hall, and into her room before she could even get a good look at him. His black hair and dark brown eyes made him attractive enough, but that wasn't enough for her. Any boy she would spend time with had to be intelligent, as well as fun to be around. He'd hardly said a word since they sat down.

"Uh, Wanda…" Jimmy paused, as if he were nervous, but she could tell that it was a façade, though didn't call him on it. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner, or go a movie or a play with me sometime."

Wanda filled her cup, replaced the lid, and took a sip of the cold drink so she could think it over. "Thank you for the offer, Jimmy, but no."

She didn't wait for his response. Just returned to her seat to find the rest of the group busily drawing their costumes, while Willa and Rishima gave them ideas for creating them with little out-of-pocket expense. Within seconds, Wanda had a text from Xiaoli.

* _Jimmy asked you on a date._ *

** _He did._ **

* _And you shot him down._ *

** _How did you know?_ **

* _My brother hasn't looked that disappointed since he got the black bike for Christmas when he wanted the green one. Not to mention that he hasn't been turned down for a date since he was twelve._ *

** _He seems nice enough, but… I believe the phrase is 'I have too much on my plate'._ **

* _Don't I know it. School, family, new baby coming, learning to drive. You don't have time for my brother, the jock-dweeb._ *

** _He does not seem to be the sort of person to give up so easily._ **

* _He's not. I'll do my best to keep him off your scent._ *

** _That would be greatly appreciated._ **

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Digging through one of the boxes with the Halloween decorations, Bucky watched Natasha slowly making her way down the stairs while wrapping web-like garland lit with orange mini lights around the handrail and balustrade. He admired her grace and efficiency of movement. It was like watching a Tai Chi master or a dancer performing a complicated routine. Each action flowed one into another, as if her body already knew what it was going to do next without conscious thought.

As Natasha reached the bottom step, Bucky saw that she'd planned the exact length she would need, allowing just enough to reach the plug under the hall table. The garland lit up, making the handrail look as if it were covered in thick spider webs.

He stopped what he was doing to wrap his arms around her waist. "An homage to your alter-ego?"

One hand reached up and back to touch his cheek. "Something to remind me that my avenging days have been put on hold. Temporarily, at least."

Once again, his guilt surged, his body betraying those thoughts. "You'll get back in fighting form soon enough."

Natasha took a half step forward so he had to let go, and turned to face him, all semblance of her good mood gone. "What's going on?"

Casting about for a plausible lie, Bucky came up with nothing. Exhaling loudly, he held her hand, drawing her with him toward the den. "I should've told you this weeks ago."

"But…"

He snorted humorlessly. "Denial. I didn't want to admit…" Looking around, he saw only the cats. Ryder and Penelope were keeping watchful eyes on Dexter as he toddled around on the carpet. If he strayed too far, one or the other would pick him up by the neck and bring him back. "Where are the kids?"

Her features pinched in annoyance that he seemed to be changing the subject when he brought it up. "Study group. Why?"

"I don't want them to hear. Not yet." Taking control, Natasha dragged him over to the sofa, and Bucky sat down without a fuss. "I let you believe I was at work all day yesterday, but I wasn't."

Arms crossed, Natasha stood in front of him, holding in her death glare. "Don't see the problem, or where the denial comes in."

"Give it a minute." Crossing his knees, Bucky fiddled with the hem of his pants. Another stalling device. "I've been keeping something from you, and the kids." His eyes flicked to hers and away. "I left work to see a woman. But not just any woman."

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

The timer dinged, and Nicole shouted from her place at the desk with school work piled all around, "It's time, Grace!"

Her daughter's voice echoed in the hall, "Okay, Mom!" The bathroom door slammed a moment later, and the shower came on.

By the time Nicole had finished another page of the paper that was due Monday, her daughter had come from the bathroom in her pajamas and a towel wrapped around her head. She came to stand between Nicole's knees so she could rub the hair dry. "All done. Let's go in the bathroom and comb it."

Her daughter ran down the hall to the bathroom, and called out, "Okay, Mom. I'm ready!"

She joined Gracie, who was turning her head side to side in the mirror. Nicole picked up a comb, and ran it through the girl's hair, which had been cut to just above her shoulders, and was no longer dark blonde. They'd just finished using an organic, temporary hair dye that was gentle on her little girl hair. Like Mia, Gracie would look fabulous whatever her hair color she wore. So, for at least the next month, she would sport a dark brown color, parted in the middle, and layered around her face for the costume she swore was "brilliant", a term she'd taken from the _Harry Potter_ movies.

"Did you get the rest?"

"I did. They're in your room."

With a whoop of joy, Gracie ran into her room and shut the door. Shaking her head, Nicole went back to her studies.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Bucky finished reciting his reasons for spending time with another woman. At the end, Natasha sat hard in the recliner, hands clenched in her lap. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to see Helen Cho?"

"I didn't want to worry you." He crossed the living room, going down on his knees in front of her. "Until a few days ago, I thought most of it was my imagination. I'm still not convinced it wasn't. Either way, we'll know in a few days."

Her eyes dashed over his features and down his clothed body, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. When their eyes met again, his were filled with anxiety and anticipation, but not the good kind. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, using it to calm her emotions. "Show me."

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Not yet."

"James!"

He gave in, just as she knew he would. Bucky sat on the floor and scooted around until he was facing the other way. They were interrupted by the kids coming in the front door.

"We're home!" Wanda called out. She and Pietro came into the living room, and by the looks on their faces, they thought they'd interrupted something private.

"We'll put our things away then we can watch the movie," Pietro finished for her.

To put their minds at ease, and to keep Wanda from peeking into their heads, Natasha smiled brightly and shot out of the chair, and Bucky came to his feet beside her. "We'll make popcorn, and drinks." When the kids had gone into their room, she turned her serious gaze on Bucky. "Not a word to anyone until we figure this out."

"How do we hide it from Wanda?" he wanted to know as he flipped on the kitchen light.

"She won't look unless she thinks something's wrong, so you have to act normal, like the world is a bowl of cherries."

He scoffed, "And I'm in the pits? That won't be easy."

Natasha pulled down the box of microwave popcorn, using her thumb to open the top. "If life was going to be easy, it wouldn't have started with something called labor."

That startled a laugh out of him, and he gathered her in his arms after she'd put the first bag of popcorn in the microwave. "That's why I love you, Tasha. Always looking on the bright side."

A few minutes later, the kids thundered down the stairs, and came to help carry the snacks and drinks to the living room.

Pietro passed a bowl of popcorn to each of them, and sat down with his back against the sofa. "What movie will we be watching tonight, Father?"

A delighted smile lit up her husband's face as he picked up the remote. Genuine this time. "One of my favorite Olivia de Havilland flicks: _The Strawberry Blonde_. It's in black and white. Hope you don't mind."

"We do not," Wanda told him as the opening credits rolled.

Natasha turned off the lights so it would feel like they were at the drive-in. She forced herself to concentrate on the story, while casting the occasional glance at her husband under the cover of darkness. Bucky looked like a kid, laughing at Biff Grimes, and Amy Lind's catch phrase: _Exactly._ Followed by a wink. Soon, she too relaxed enough that she would sleep tonight… maybe.

 **TBC**

 _Phineas and Ferb_ is an American animated musical comedy television series. The series premiered on February 1, 2008 on Disney Channel, and follows Phineas Flynn and his British stepbrother Ferb Fletcher on summer vacation. Every day, the boys embark on some grand new project, which annoys their controlling sister, Candace, who frequently tries to reveal their shenanigans to her and Phineas' mother, Linda Flynn-Fletcher, and less frequently to Ferb's father, Lawrence Fletcher. The series follows a standard plot system; running gags occur every episode, and the b-plot almost always features Perry the Platypus working as a spy ("Agent P") for OWCA (the Organization Without a Cool Acronym), to defeat the latest scheme of Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, a mad scientist driven largely by a need to assert his evilness. Sometimes, other villains scoff at his level of evil. The two plots intersect at the end to erase all traces of the boys' project just before Candace can show it to their mother. This usually leaves Candace very frustrated.

 _Harry Potter_ is a series of fantasy novels written by British author J. K. Rowling. The novels chronicle the life of a young wizard, Harry Potter, and his friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, all of whom are students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The main story arc concerns Harry's struggle against Lord Voldemort, a dark wizard who intends to become immortal, overthrow the wizard governing body known as the Ministry of Magic, and subjugate all wizards and muggles, a reference term that means non-magical people.

 _The Strawberry Blonde_ is a 1941 Warner Bros. feature film directed by Raoul Walsh, starring James Cagney and Olivia de Havilland, and featuring Rita Hayworth, Alan Hale, Jack Carson and George Tobias. The picture was nominated for an Academy Award in 1941 for Best Scoring of a Musical Picture and features songs such as "The Band Played On", "Bill Bailey", "Meet Me in St. Louis, Louie," "Wait till The Sun Shines Nellie," and "Love Me and the World Is Mine." The title is most often listed beginning with the word _The_ , but the film's posters and promotional materials call it simply _Strawberry Blonde_. Director Walsh remade the film in 1948 as _One Sunday Afternoon_. Also, this was a remake of _One Sunday Afternoon_ (1933) with Gary Cooper.


	110. Chapter 110

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Mom's funeral is finally done, but because RL sucks, I now have another RL issue with which to deal. Oy.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 110**

Halfway through the closing credits, Bucky shut off the player and television, and set the remote on the end table. "That's it kids. What did you think?"

The kids gathered the bowls and glasses, stacking them together on the coffee table. Wanda smiled at him. "It was a fun movie, Father. I especially liked the song about the strawberry blonde. Oh!"

Bucky shot off the sofa, and pulled Wanda into his arms, singing the song as he danced them around the room. At the end, he leaned Wanda back in a dip, making her squeal while Natasha and Pietro laughed. "Again!"

Pietro pulled Natasha from the sofa, and they too danced while Bucky sang. His voice wasn't the best, but as long as his family liked it, no one else counted.

At the end of the second time through, Pietro leaned Natasha into a dip, and back upright, but instead of laughing, she stumbled. He held on tight so she wouldn't fall. "What's wrong, Mother?"

"Dizzy." She burped, and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm gonna…"

In a flash, she and their son were gone. He came back alone, looking concerned. "She is in the bathroom getting sick."

The twins looked at Bucky with annoyance when he didn't seem to be concerned. "It's starting. It's called morning sickness, but it can happen anytime of the day or night. A cup of mint tea and some crackers will help."

Before he finished speaking, Pietro was gone again. He heard the microwave open, and close. Bucky and Wanda gathered the bowls and glasses, and carried them to the kitchen just as the microwave dinged and Natasha came out of the bathroom. She slid into a chair by the counter just as Pietro pushed a cup of tea and a sleeve of crackers to her.

Natasha smiled her thanks, and took a sip of the tea. "Didn't expect that to start for a couple of weeks."

Bucky slid into the chair next to her, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "Take it from an expert, it'll start when it's ready, or rather when the _baby's_ ready. And you can't do anything to change it."

She didn't look happy. "When will it stop?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Few weeks." She looked relieved until he added, "Or not until the baby's born."

Pietro seemed more concerned than any of them. "Does this happen to all women when they are with child?"

Wanting to ease his son's apprehension, Bucky thought of lying, but that wouldn't be right. "Yes and no. It happens to some extent, but not always on the same level. Sometimes the woman is nauseous from beginning to end. Some, for only a few weeks. Still others, not at all. Just the smell of foods she used to love could make her sick, while others she previously detested will cause cravings."

"What else?"

"Fatigue, mood swings, forgetfulness, inability to concentrate…"

Natasha fumbled with the package of crackers, and immediately, Pietro was at her side to help her. "That's not too bad, as long as it goes away."

A finger went into the air as Bucky touched her hand. "I wasn't finished. Remember, I've been through this with Connie, all four of our kids, grandkids, and their spouses." Natasha groaned, and Bucky took that as a request to continue. "Your waistline will expand as the baby grows, naturally, and your breasts will get bigger. You may look like you've simply gained a few pounds for a while. Then one day, bam! You can't fit into any of the clothes you wore the day before."

Wanda appeared behind them, one hand on Natasha's shoulder. "Is there more?"

Chuckling, Bucky patted Natasha's hand. "Let's see, dizziness, heartburn, constipation, acne…" he paused when his wife's hands brushed frantically over her cheeks, forehead and chin. "Little blue veins in your belly, legs, and breasts. Then there are the changes to your… girly bits."

She groaned, holding her head with both hands. "And this goes on for another _eight_ months?"

"There's more that can happen, but it's best if you speak to your OB-GYN. Carolyn had to have an emergency C-section because Ezzie's umbilical cord became kinked, and she wasn't getting enough blood and nutrients. Martin was deployed overseas, and was due to be discharged around the time Carolyn was scheduled to give birth. The complications meant they couldn't wait." Again, he squeezed Natasha's hand. "That doesn't happen as often as movies and television would have you believe. Most pregnancies and births are fairly normal. Carolyn had no problems with the other three."

Lifting her head, Natasha gave him and the kids a tired smile. "Thanks for being with me while I'm going through this."

Pietro had been silent for most of the conversation. Now, his voice was soft, as if he thought speaking in his normal tone would upset Natasha. "Father, do all women have these… symptoms while pregnant?"

"Depends on the woman. Each one is different." Bucky leaned back so he could see all their faces. "Pregnancy is like… it's like, you know, when you listen to a commercial for a new drug, and at the end it lists all the side effects. Not everyone will experience any or all them, or just one or two. Some will have the milder ones, while others are hit with the more difficult symptoms. But we'll get through this together."

~~O~~

Natasha closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. Catching Bucky's eye, she chuckled. "Our poor son feels responsible for making me sick."

Bucky sat on the side of the bed, hands on his knees. "He was, sort of."

"It was a combination of snacks, the spinning…"

"And baby makes three." He held out his hand, and Natasha went to sit on his lap.

"I'll give the doctor a call in the morning, see what he says about all of this."

"He?"

Her head tilted to the side. "Bruce is going to be my doctor." A slight stiffening of his arms around her waist was more telling than if he'd said the words. "You have a problem with that?"

"I… Yeah. I do. The thought of your _male_ friend seeing all your lovely girly bits, even in the context of doctoring, bothers me."

Natasha laughed, and pressed her palms to either side of his head, touching their noses together. "No need to be jealous, my husband. Bruce has already seen everything there is to see." At his shocked expression, she explained. "Jarvis does the scanning, and Bruce interprets the findings. No need for me to undress. Not at this point." She got up, retrieved her pajamas from under her pillow, and went to the bathroom door. "I'm getting a shower. You're welcome to join me, if you like."

She winked, and slowly opened the door wide, offering a silent invitation to go with the verbal one. In a flash, he was there, and together, they shut the world out, at least for a while.

~~O~~

After their parents went into their room, Wanda needed to be far away from them so she put on a sweater and hat, and went out to the gazebo. Pietro followed a few minutes later because she refused to respond to his mental pings.

She heard the whoosh that preceded his arrival, but didn't look up, leaving it for him to start the conversation.

"Time for you to, the phrase is come clean." Wanda ignored her brother, using her feet to move the swing, hoping the squeak would deter any questions. He crossed his arms, and leaned against the post at the top of the stairs. "When we first came to live with James and Natasha, we were told that she could not have children." He sat beside her, also using his feet to move the swing. "Yet now, she is having a baby." She turned a glare on him when he bumped her shoulder with his. "Now I know what you had," he smirked, "up your shirt."

Wanda hated that smirk. That wasn't true. What she hated was the reason he smirked. She stood as the swing moved forward, and took Pietro's place leaning on the post. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You may be able to fool our parents, but not me. I know you too well." The space next to her was filled in less than a second, and Pietro turned her to face him. Wanda gave in, and they hugged. He kissed her temple. "I saw the look on her face when Laura announced she was with child, and would've done the same, sister."

Pushing back so she could see his face, Wanda sighed. "They wanted so much to have a child together that her dreams-and sometimes his-were often filled with the 'what ifs'. They've been so kind to us, I had to give something back." She looked down at her hands on his chest. "I have never attempted modifications to this degree. It may be that it will cause the birth to come early, or the child may arrive on the correct date."

Pietro held her away, his expression troubled. "What do you mean 'to this degree'? You have done this before?"

Wanda wasn't ashamed, and let her brother know. "Iris, Chase's friend, the night of the party. Only for her, it was a simple repair. I merely gave the damaged cells a small push to begin the regeneration process. Natasha's situation required multiple treatments to heal the damage, and I was not certain that it would work."

"So, all those nights you were up creeping in the halls…"

"Yes." She smiled against his shoulder when he pulled her close again. "She nearly caught me on several occasions, and once she did. I told her a half-truth that she appeared to believe."

His silent chuckle vibrated where they touched. "Do you really think our mother doesn't know when something… hinky is going on?"

"She has not said anything to me, nor to James, I suspect. They are so elated for what they perceive as a miracle that there will likely be no questions from either of them."

"And if there are, do not lie."

His comment came out as an order from an older sibling to a younger. "I will not bring the subject up myself, but if either of them asks outright, there will be no lies. There has been enough in our relationship. I would not tarnish what we have with more of the same."

"Good." Pietro led her toward the house. "We should get to bed. I have an exam in the morning."

"I do as well."

 **Halloween Night**

"I'll get it!" Pietro shouted at the knock on the front door. He opened it to let in his nephews, Chase and Justin. Turning in a circle so they could see his costume, the twins looked him over with approval.

"Perfect!" they said at the same time.

Though he didn't seem happy, Justin smiled while adjusting the black wig. "How's the accent coming?"

Pietro waggled his hand. "I have been practicing with the help of Wanda's friend, Willa. From Georgia, I think."

Chase ruffled the curls on his blond wig, and crossed his arms, a grin twisting his lips. "Let's hear it."

Looking around, Pietro motioned for the brothers to follow him out the back door. "I don't want anyone to hear before the party."

~~O~~

Holding the hem of her long black dress so she wouldn't trip, Natasha made her way down the stairs. As she reached the bottom, raucous laughter coming from the deck signaled that Chase and Justin had arrived.

Shaking her head with a small smile, she went into the kitchen to check on the food prep being done by the caterers. Bucky wanted everyone to have a good time without worrying about making and bringing a dish. The company she hired specialized in the offbeat type of parties that the Barnes family preferred, and were themselves in costume as zombies, mad scientists, one of which was dressed as Doc Brown from _Back to the Future_ , a dead bride, and the team leader as Dracula.

As she approached, he held onto the sides of his cape, bowing low. "Ah, Mrs. Addams, I presume," he proclaimed in a bad Transylvanian accent.

Getting into character, Natasha fluttered her fingers at the man. "You presume correctly, Count. My husband, Gomez, will be down directly. Everything is going horribly, I hope."

"Yes, incredibly terrible, just as you requested." He swept the cape across his body, covering the lower half of his face. "The offerings will be ready soon."

Natasha crossed her arms. "Good. Our guests are already arriving."

The caterer bowed low, presenting her with a "bouquet" of rose stems. She smiled her thanks, and left the kitchen, taking short steps in imitation of Morticia Addams, yet being careful not to trip on the trailing "webs" of her dress.

Through the open back door, she watched Chase, Justin and Pietro standing close together. She couldn't hear what her son was saying, but it caused the brothers to laugh out loud. Justin motioned for Pietro to follow him, and the three young men crossed the yard to the gazebo. Their costumes puzzled her. All three were dressed as if they were homeless. "Hobos?"

Shaking her head, she turned to go back inside just as Bucky came down the stairs to answer the door, wearing a double breasted, pin-striped suit with a pocket watch chain reminiscent of the original Addams Family television series rather than the movie franchise. Staying in character, he greeted the group effusively, inviting them in. Natasha recognized Wanda's friend, Xiaoli, but not the others. All were wearing coats to cover their costumes, and carrying bags. Presumably, the bags held wigs or masks so that their identities would remain hidden until they were ready.

Before Bucky could close the door, another group of high school aged kids arrived.

Movement at the top of the stairs caught Natasha's attention, and she watched her daughter stop on the top step, take a deep breath, and slowly descend. She wore a hooded sweater to cover her costume and hair. Curious, but willing to wait, she joined Bucky just as Wanda reached the bottom. "What the big secret, baby girl?"

Wanda looked down at herself and back to her parents. "It is a surprise. One I hope will be appreciated."

Natasha took her hand. "I'm sure it will be, _lyubimaya_." She pointed her chin at the back of the house. "Your friends have arrived."

Keeping hold of her hand, and grabbing Bucky's, Wanda turned them toward the back door, pulling them along. "Come. I want to introduce you."

~~O~~

Wanda sent Pietro a ping to get his attention, and he and their nephews returned to the deck, greeting his friends in a chaotic stream of laughter and boisterousness. Letting go of her parents' hands, Wanda waved everyone over. "Mother, Father, these are friends from school. You've already met Xiaoli. This is her brother Jimmy. And this is Willa, Rishima, Robbie, and Gordon."

"And these are _my_ friends," Pietro continued, "Batman is Curtis, the lumberjack is Lucius, the lovely Ivy is the flapper, the equally lovely Persephone is the Gypsy, and the mummy is Clay."

Each of Pietro's friends nodded a greeting, except for Clay. His lopsided grin could be seen through the gauze wrappings. "Evenin', ma'am."

Taken aback, Natasha returned the grin. "Ah, you're from _southern_ Egypt."

He turned his gauze covered hands over, one eyebrow arching. "Guess so."

To the kids, Bucky said, "Help yourself to drinks, kids. The food will be out soon."

Natasha moved close to Bucky as the kids swarmed over to the coolers and the tables with big jugs of iced tea and lemonade. He took hold of her hand, and they shared a smile. "I'm glad they're making friends their own age."

"That's the magic words: their own age. Now that we know they're not tweens, I understand why they didn't hang out more with the kids from the middle school."

Turning around, she scanned the crowd. Some of the neighbors had shown up, along with several of Bucky's friends from the museum. "I don't see Gracie and Nicole."

"That's weird. They're usually the first to arrive so Gracie can greet everyone."

"She also wouldn't tell me what her costume is, and I'm usually one of the first to know."

Bucky pulled her against him, and this close, the fake mustache made her laugh. He leaned down to kiss her neck. "Mmm. _Cara mia_!"

To which Natasha automatically responded as Morticia, "Oh, _mon cher_."

"Tish! You spoke French!" Taking her hand, he kissed up her arm until he reached her bicep. At the same time, they felt they were being watched, and found the twins glaring at them, Wanda tapping her foot while Pietro made a frantic slashing motion across his throat. They both knew the children were embarrassed when they engaged in public displays of affection. Staying in character, Bucky took a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew an X on her sleeve.

Turning her arm to look at it, Natasha asked, "What's that for, darling?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I want to remember where I stopped, _querida_."

~~O~~

The SUV eased to a stop in front of the Barnes home. Joi and Steve got out of the front, and by the time they opened the back doors, Alice had unlatched the booster seat. Steve lifted the girl down, and Joi immediately began fussing with the bow in her hair while he shrugged into a blue waistcoat to match the vest. "She looks _fine_ , Joi."

His wife had moved on to retying, and straightening the bow of Alice's pinafore. "We're going to be meeting a lot of new people tonight, and I want them to see what good care we take of Alice, just in case anyone asks."

Before he could evade her grasp, Steve was pulled close so she could fix his collar and button the vest from which hung an enormous plastic pocket watch. He put the ears on, and Joi reached up to adjust them to her satisfaction. "There."

Steve looked at his reflection in the rear window. "You bent my ear."

"It fits the character, babe," Joi told him as she stuck a dark green oversized top hat on her head, and fluffed the hair of her white wig. "How do I look?"

Alice slipped her hand into Joi's. "You look perfect, Mom. Papa and Tasha will love it."

"I'm sure they will."

"Is Gracie here?"

Lifting his hand to knock, Steve commented, "She's usually the first to arrive, but I don't see Nicole's car." The door opened, and Steve looked over the costumes Natasha and Bucky were wearing, and they returned the favor. "Seriously, Buck? You look like an undertaker."

Bucky snorted contemptuously. "Hmph. That's rich coming from a six-foot-ten rabbit who's not wearing pants."

"Let them in, darling," Natasha murmured in Morticia's voice. "You know how I love having guests for dinner."

Alice tugged on Bucky's pants, and his entire demeanor changed. He picked the girl up making her squeal with laughter when he kissed her neck. "There's my girl! Too bad you had to bring your idiot father with you. He's never been any fun at parties." Hugging Alice tight, Bucky stood back so Joi and Steve could enter, bending down to kiss his granddaughter on the cheek. " _You_ , on the other hand, make a great Mad Hatter, Ez."

"Thanks, Gramps." Bucky put Alice down, and she rushed out to the back yard when she heard other kids playing, Joi's voice following her, "Don't get dirty!"

" _Okay, Mom!_ "

As Steve passed Bucky, he whispered, "Jerk."

To which his best friend responded out the side of his mouth, "Punk."

~~O~~

Taking Bucky's hand to keep him at her side, Natasha waited until Steve and Joi had moved out of earshot to ask, "How're you feeling? Want to lie down for a while?"

"I'm _fine_ , Natasha. If I wasn't, I'd tell you."

"See that you do," she stated sharply, her frown of annoyance changing to a smile when Pietro came in.

Walking backward in front of them toward the deck, Pietro looked as eager as a kid in a candy shop. "My nephews and I are ready to reveal our costumes, as are Wanda and her friends. We saved you seats at the table in front so you can see."

The catering staff had most of the food out, and Natasha was hungry, the smell making her stomach growl. "This is exciting. I need something to eat and drink first."

The boy's eyes lit up. "I'll tell everyone to get ready." He turned and jogged away.

At the door, Bucky and Natasha fell into character. He took her hand, and helped her down the single step, subtly leading her toward their table. Instead of the usual picnic tables, they'd rented folding chair and tables this time, to allow those restricted by costumes to sit easier.

The table was covered by a white tablecloth with a bloody knife stuck in the middle, and blood dripping down the sides. The others were similarly done. She looked around, and as Natasha suspected, Wanda and her friends were still wearing their coats and hooded sweaters.

Once she was comfortably seated, Bucky excused himself. Steve and Joi joined her in time to see Pietro, Justin and Chase come walking up. Their son wore a beat-up blue knit cap, an ugly green jacket, a wrinkled shirt buttoned up to his neck and baggy jeans that had seen better days, though not recently. Justin had on a black wig, a grey "wife-beater" with a threadbare flannel shirt over it, while Chase wore a blonde curly wig, a stretched-out cardigan, a button-front shirt that was too small, and a worn white t-shirt.

Bucky set a plate in front of her, and the other at his place before she could even hazard a guess. He pulled a bottle of water for her and a soft drink for himself from his pockets, along with plastic silverware and napkins. "What's this, guys?"

Pietro waved. "Hi. I'm Larry. This is my brother Darryl, and my other brother Darryl." Their son made a valiant effort at a southern accent, making them laugh. Encouraged, he continued, "My brothers 'n me were havin' a deep philosophical discussion while possum huntin' the other night."

"Oh?" Bucky asked, barely able to keep his laughter under control. "What about?"

"That it's the simple things in life that are most important." He indicated Joi and Natasha. "Like havin' a fair-haired maiden at your side… and a million flies to roll around in."

Joi covered her mouth with a hand until she could speak without laughing. "That's… s-sweet, guys. Not the image, but the sentiment."

"Thank ya kindly, Miss Joi 'n Miss Natasha." He tipped his hat. "Fellas."

Movement behind the boys drew their eyes. Wanda and her friends were standing in a cluster. "Get out of the way, _Larry_. It's our turn." To her parents and the rest of the guests who'd stopped to watch the boys, she said, "We're going to step away to prepare, and be right back."

Excited murmuring from the attendees sprang up, mostly speculation on the nature of their costumes, as one by one, the kids disappeared around the corner near the creepy graveyard.

Soon, a male voice called out, "Start the music!"

Immediately, the air was filled with the thunderous strains of one of the few classical pieces whose name Joi remembered, "Ride of the Valkyries". Her mouth dropped open, and she heard Natasha's near silent gasp of recognition as the group came running around to stop in front of the other guests, all standing in heroic poses.

~~O~~

Leading the pack was Wanda's friend, Gordon, dressed as… she glanced over at Steve, seeing the same dumbfounded jaw-drop on his face, and on Joi's.

Gordon nodded a greeting. "Evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is," he paused for dramatic effect, holding up a round disk painted red, white, and blue to match his uniform, "Captain America. Allow me to introduce my colleagues."

Robbie strutted forward in imitation of Tony Stark.

"Iron Man!"

Willa came next, raising an ancient-looking hammer into the sky, causing her red cape to flutter.

"The god of thunder, Thor!"

The Indian girl with the unusual eyes was dressed in green and gold leather, topped off with a helmet, also in gold, and sporting horns that extended from forward of the temples.

"The god of mischief, Loki!"

Clapping along with everyone else, Natasha leaned close to Bucky. "It's a good thing Clint isn't here."

Next came Jimmy wearing a lab coat, glasses, a checked shirt, and khaki slacks. "Dr. Bruce Banner!" Jimmy stumbled backward, breathing hard, and grunting. Hands covering his face, he pushed through the rest of the group, disappearing in the darkness. Moments later, they heard a mighty roar, and Jimmy burst through those on the deck, only now he was all green, wearing only a too small pair of pants. "And the Hulk!"

"It's a good thing _Bruce_ isn't here."

Xiaoli came forward, a smirk twisting her lips, and holding a bow in her left hand. Her costume was black, with dark maroon insets down the front. It was a decent reproduction of Clint's suit.

"Hawkeye!"

Slowly, she drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, nocked it, aimed at one of the tombstones, and fired. The crowd went wild as the arrow hit its target.

"And last, but certainly not least…" the others in the group parted as a redhead made her way through, stopping a few feet from the table. Wanda clenched her fists, and the Widow's Bites at her wrists glowed with power. She also wore a double thigh holster slung low on her hips. "…Black Widow!

The young man stood straight and tall. "We are the _Avengers_!"

 **TBC**

 _Back to the Future_ is a 1985 American science-fiction adventure comedy film directed by Robert Zemeckis and written by Zemeckis and Bob Gale. It stars Michael J. Fox as teenager Marty McFly, who is sent back in time to 1955, where he meets his future parents in high school and accidentally becomes his mother's romantic interest. Christopher Lloyd portrays the eccentric scientist Dr. Emmett "Doc" Brown, Marty's friend who helps him repair the damage to history by helping Marty get his parents to fall in love. Marty and Doc must also find a way to return Marty to 1985.

The "Ride of the Valkyries" (German: _Walkürenritt_ or _Ritt der Walküren_ ) refers to the beginning of act 3 of _Die Walküre_ , the second of the four operas constituting Richard Wagner's _Der Ring des Nibelungen_.


	111. Chapter 111

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

The next couple of chapters will include a crossover with _Bones_.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 111**

Stunned, Natasha stared, wide-eyed, speechless for one of the few times in her life. It's said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Right now, not only was she greatly honored that Wanda would dress as her for Halloween, but this was the first time she really and truly felt loved by her daughter.

Wanda tilted her head down, watching Natasha through her lashes, waiting for a reaction, as were Bucky, Joi, Steve, and the rest.

Slowly, Natasha stood, and came around the end of the table to the edge of the deck. Wanda's eyes stayed on hers, waiting. Realizing that she was needlessly prolonging the tension, she smiled proudly, and held out her arms. " _Moya doch'_."

Wanda threw herself at Natasha, the two of them stumbling slightly at the impact. " _Mama, ya lyublyu tebya_."

The Black Widow eased out of her daughter's arms, giving the kids a bright smile. "You all look fantastic!" Her eyes settled on Xiaoli in her Hawkeye threads, saying in a stage whisper, "Hawkeye's ambidextrous, but favors the left." The Asian girl grinned, and switched hands. Natasha winked. "Let's take pictures."

There was a flurry of flashes as those with phones snapped photos which they were already posting online.

~~O~~

Inside her head, Wanda heard Pietro's comment at the same time that Natasha released her, and Bucky flashed a warm smile in her direction.

** _Well played,_ _sestrenka_.**

Angry at her brother's phrasing, Wanda shot back, * _I'm not_ _playing_ _at anything,_ _eblan_ _. I wore this to express my affection and appreciation for all she and Father have done for us._ *

He mentally rolled his eyes at her, and in retaliation, she pushed back hard enough to knock him off his feet. Behind her, she heard Justin and Chase helping him up. Though Pietro would brush off the event, the brothers would know better. She wasn't disappointed at feeling their humor at the situation. * _I was being_ _sincere_ _. It was a grand gesture, a way to say how I feel. Also, it will keep them from suspecting our plans for Tony Stark._ *

** _Yes. We need to move forward soon. Let's talk about it later, when Mother and Father have gone to bed._ **

* _It will be some time before we can proceed._ *

** _Over the Thanksgiving holiday, perhaps. I must study this weekend for a class in which I am not doing well._ **

Wanda injected humor into her thoughts. * _Are you still annoyed that I would not give you the answers?_ *

** _I am not. That would be cheating, which will not get me into a college._ **

~~O~~

A woman dressed as a pirate stood to the side on the deck where she could see everything. What she couldn't see was recorded on the tiny cameras she'd hidden, along with the one in front of her tri-corner hat. A wig and an eye patch helped to cover up her true identity.

When the large group of teenagers arrived, she'd take the opportunity to slip into the house in the confusion of introductions. It wasn't a huge party, thirty-five to forty attendees, mostly teenagers and kids, yet everyone seemed to be having fun.

Her target wasn't easily spotted among the guests all in costume. Not that he made it a point hide from her team at other times. Since the incident in front of the jail, she'd made it her _raison d'être_ , her ultimate purpose to expose him and his family to the public eye. There was just something about the Barnes family that struck her as off, and it wasn't just their close association with the Avengers. Her reporters' instincts told her there was more to it. She had a feeling that tonight would bring her closer to discovering the truth about the grandson of the former leader of the Howling Commandoes, General James Barnes, retired.

Edging over to the coolers, she peeked inside each one until she came to the soft drinks. She wanted something stronger, but needed to keep a clear…

"Mind handing me a root beer?"

The male voice startled her, along with the fact that she hadn't heard him coming. "Pardon?"

He was tall, just over six feet, and a bit on the chunky side. His Zorro's mask obscured his features, though she guessed him to be over forty, possibly of Pakistani lineage. He also had a wedding ring on his left hand. "Root beer. Rather have the real thing, but my wife doesn't like me to drink." Silently, she handed him a bottle, and grabbed one for herself. Without being asked, he opened both bottles, and passed hers back. "Charlesh. My friends call me Charlie."

"Chris. And we're not friends, Charlesh." She purposely used his given name.

Charlie reached into another cooler for a bottle of water. "Have to get back."

"Right. Wouldn't want the wife to think you were spending too much time with another woman."

He waved the bottle. "Not worried about that. She knows better."

With a bland smile, he left her to go to a woman dressed in black lace over midnight blue satin, and a black gaucho hat. In a matter of seconds, between leaving her and arriving at his wife's side, he'd forgotten about her. _Now_ _that's_ _true love_.

The uninvited guest moved out among the others, keeping her ears and eyes peeled. With the right information, she would be back on top again, using the Barnes family and the Avengers to do so.

~~O~~

Gently swinging the mallet between her feet, Wanda hit the croquet ball. A collective cheer went up when her ball rolled through the hoop. Using her powers, she could easily win, but refused to cheat. She prepared to continue her turn, stopping in mid-swing when something, she wasn't sure what, tickled her brain.

Without looking, Wanda held out her mallet, and it was taken, though she didn't know by whom. "Here. Finish my turn."

As a ruse to get close to each guest, Wanda walked around the buffet tables, choosing random items and putting them on a plate then went to stand near the back door so she could see everyone. Eating without tasting, she cast a soft mental net, hoping to tough the individual that drawn her attention. Pietro sidled up to her, and snatched a deviled egg, popping the entire thing in his mouth at once. Through their link, he asked * _What are you doing?_ *

** _There is someone here who was not invited, and does not have honorable intentions._ **

Before Pietro could respond, Mia appeared, looking as if she'd stepped out a gothic novel. Her long red dress had a slit up to her left hip, exposing the length of her lightly tanned thigh, and the knee-high black boots. The strapless bodice had lacing in the front, pulled tight to show off her ample curves. The red cape touched the floor. Even with the hood up, you could see she'd changed her hair from blond to jet black. A basket of apples, a black lace choker, dramatic make-up, and black satin gloves that covered her elbows completed the picture. "Something's going on with you two."

Keeping his voice low, Pietro explained. "Uninvited guest."

Wanda sent another tendril of psionic energy toward the woman. "She's hidden cameras around the area."

Grinning, Mia breathed on her knuckles and dusted them on her shirt. "Leave those to me.

"There are cameras in and outside the house."

"No problem."

A sudden change in the mind she was sensing forced a small gasp out of Wanda. "Does the name Christine mean anything?"

Justin walked up at that moment. "Unfortunately, yes. She's a reporter who's been following me, trying to dig up dirt on the family."

Pietro crossed his arms. "We must stop her." The quartet thought for a moment. " _How_ do we stop her?"

Psionic mist formed at Wanda's fingertips. "I could put the thought in her mind that there is no story to be found here."

"Have you done it before?" her nephew asked.

Looking contrite, she nodded, and glanced away. Across from where they were standing, a woman sipped from a bottle, her eyes darting over the crowd, seldom lingering on any one person. Yet they always came back to her parents. "There. That's her."

Wiggling her hips to the music, Mia said to Justin, "Gramps is throwin' a rockin'."

Getting into the spirit, he responded out of character as one of the Darryls, "Between you 'n me, dollface, it's the cat's pajamas." Wanda caught Justin's eye, as he extended his elbow to Mia. "Wanna cut a rug wit yours truly?"

"It would be my pleasure, cousin."

Wanda looked past her. "Where's Sam?"

Mia exhaled loudly, tossing one last glance at the twins as they circled the deck, purposely walking past the reporter. "We've parted company. He's moving his stuff out while I'm here."

"That's too bad. He's Gramps and Steve's friend. You're bound to run into him now and then."

"We're both adults, Justin. It'll be fine."

The cousins moved off, leaving the twins alone. Wanda picked up a cookie, sending her brother a ping. ** _Wait here. I want to get a little closer._ **

* _What about the cameras?_ *

** _Mia will destroy them._ **

* _Perhaps that should be done first._ * Pietro tilted his head to the side, thinking. * _What if she's transmitting to someone at a remote location? How would we track it? We'd have to get Mother and Father involved, and we should put as little stress on her as possible._ *

Wanda sent another gentle ping at Christine, and what she got back filled her with relief. ** _No one knows she is here. She's keeping the video evidence to herself for the time being by saving it to data cards._ **

Moving a few feet closer, she stealthily sent a thin stream of mist in the reporter's direction. Before, the woman had appeared confident, even arrogant. Now her eyes darted around, not with curiosity, but with fear. As if she thought she were being watched, or followed.

Christine hugged herself, rubbing up and down her biceps. A chorus of cheers went up from those playing croquet, startling her. A few minutes later, rushed toward the door, nearly running them down. Her pirate's hat landed on the deck.

Wanda caught Justin's attention where he was dancing with Mia. He nodded, and she could see him whispering in his cousin's ear. The two of them finished out the song, and went for what appeared to be a casual stroll around the deck, gazebo and yard, careful to avoid interfering in the games. Making overly dramatic gestures while talking gave Mia the opportunity to destroy each of the cameras without being seen.

Pietro retrieved the hat Christine dropped. Turning it over, he showed Wanda the tiny camera attached to the inside front. ** _Destroy it, brother. We can't take the chance that someone might be able to download the video._ **

* _My pleasure, sister._ * He pried the camera loose, dropped it on the deck, and ground it to bits under his heel. * _Now we can relax and not worry about being watched._ * Without another word, he left to join several of their friends bobbing for apples, cheering them on as if he'd been there the whole time.

~~O~~

Startled by a noise that sounded like screeching brakes, Christine nearly dropped her drink. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, because naturally, there were no cars in the back yard. The game players headed for the deck, and the area left open for dancing. That's how she finally found Justin Lockwood.

He was dancing close to a young woman dressed as a gothic red riding hood, both of them laughing and whispering in each other's ears. The man was supposed to be gay, even though he'd come on strong that day in front of the police station, and she'd seen the evidence of his arousal herself. Then there was the rumor that he'd been dating a woman whose identity Christine had yet to discover. And now _this_ woman. Through the make-up and wig, she wouldn't be able to identify her.

She inhaled sharply at the sound of a car horn, followed by screeching brakes again. For some reason, the noise, which she was certain was all in her head, triggered her fight or flight instinct. Her mouth felt dry, yet when she took a drink, she nearly choked. Her throat constricted, cutting off her air supply. Pain shot through her stomach. That sharp, clenching feeling you get right before your heart starts pounding so hard it hurt to breathe. Images flashed through her mind of twisted metal, shattered glass, broken bodies… and blood. So much blood, she could smell it.

In the cool air, Christine's hands suddenly felt wet. She looked down, and saw blood dripping between her fingers onto the deck, each splash louder than the last, until it was deafening. The bottle fell from her hands, but she didn't even hear it break. She had to go, to run, to get away before she died too.

The Barnes' front door slammed behind Christine as she fumbled her keys, using the fob to unlock the car. She jumped in the front seat, started the engine, and drove off, kicking up dirt and rocks in her haste to get away. The light at the corner turned yellow. She gunned the engine, hitting the other side of the intersection a split second before a bright light flashed in her rear-view mirror. She ignored it, and kept going.

~~O~~

Christine parked in her driveway, killed the engine, and ran into the house. She slammed the door, engaged all the locks, and ran to her bedroom, slamming and locking that door as well.

Feeling as if she were being watched even though she routinely swept for cameras and listening devices, she grabbed the gun and ammo from the bedside table. She backed into the corner where she could see the door, and slid down to sit, knees pulled up to her chest.

 **The Barnes Family Halloween Party**

Pietro paused. A glance over her shoulder showed that he was engaged in a conversation with a group consisting of their nephews and friends of both of theirs. ** _We should grab a couple of drinks while Mother and Father are not looking._ **

* _Do you think that's wise? The last time we defied them we were grounded._ *

** _A situation which did not last nearly as long as we were told it would._ ** He stopped to talk to someone, and was back.** _Father gave me a beer once, but it was not to my liking._ **

* _You don't have to drink it if you don't like it. There are other drinks to choose from. I will meet you there in a moment. Xiaoli is looking for me._ *

 **The Jeffersonian**

 **Angela's Lab**

Holding the control in her left hand, Angela used a stylus to manipulate the images hovering over the holography table. In doing so, the background also became clearer. Tilting her head to the side, she squinted. "What the hell?"

She drew a square around the lower left corner, and enlarged it. A few more adjustments, and she could now see that what she thought had been a bush was one person carrying another in a fireman's lift. The enhancements were sent to the before and after frames, bringing everything into focus.

"Well, that escalated quickly," she muttered to herself when she saw the body being placed at the foot of the Howling Commandoes Memorial, reminding her of the new report she and Hodgins heard on the radio a couple of weeks ago. "Oh, Booth has to hear about this!"

Taking a deep breath, Angela spoke to the air, "Call Booth."

Her tablet lit up, displaying the words _Calling FBI Agent Seeley Booth_

" _Booth_."

"It's Angela. Remember when Brennan had a meltdown when the Metro PD refused to let her examine that body a few weeks ago?"

A door slammed, and all got quiet. " _Shshsh! What about it?_ "

"Short version: I found a video of the body being left. Thought you might like to be here when I turn it over to…" The line went dead. "Booth?" There was no answer. "Typical."

" _I'm here. Don't leave, don't call anyone, don't do_ _anything_ _until I get there. And whatever you do,_ _don't_ _tell Bones_."

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

The bathroom light went out, the door opened, and Nicole stepped into the hall holding a black cap in one hand. She placed it on her head, and pulled her ponytail out the back. "Gracie?"

" _Yeah?_ " the girl called from inside her room.

"Hurry up or we'll be late." Nicole picked up a pair of fingerless gloves, pulling them on as she walked out to the living room, raising her voice to be heard. "You don't want to miss all the fun!"

Gracie's door opened, and her daughter strode confidently down the hall, stopping at the entrance to the hallway, holding a sniper rifle in one hand. The light glinted off its shiny black surface, though no one would ever mistake it for the real thing because the scope was bright orange. Nicole's idea, just in case they were stopped by the police on the way to Bucky's.

She'd done the same with all the other weapons Gracie insisted she needed for her costume, most of which she'd found in the dollar discount store. In one of the pockets, she had plastic Christmas ornaments that they'd painted to look like bombs, but with a hook on one side for hanging them on the tree. They'd looked high and low, and finally found a pair of kids size fingerless gloves to complete the look.

Going down on one knee, Nicole fastened the front of the vest, and straightened the turtleneck's collar. "Where's your mask?"

Gracie held it up by the strap. "Don't wanna put it on till we get there."

Nicole stood, and picked up her purse. "You look fabulous, munchkin."

Together, they left the apartment, making sure to set the alarm and lock up. "Think Papa and Tasha will like it?"

"They will _love_ it. You'll be the envy of everyone at the party." Her daughter didn't comment as she buckled her into the booster seat. "You're not nervous, are you?"

"Kinda." She fussed with her mask. "What if they laugh at me?"

The car came to a stop at the light. Nicole caught Gracie's gaze in the mirror. "They won't laugh, honey. It's a great costume, and for sure you'll be the only one. They might ask why you chose it, but they'd never make fun of you."

She put the mask on, crossed her arms, and stared down at her lap. "Wanda and Pietro's friends'll be there."

"They won't laugh. I promise. And if they do," Nicole picked up her own toy sniper rifle, "I'll squirt 'em."

Her daughter giggled, ending on a snort, which made them both giggle. Nicole wasn't telling Gracie what she knew the girl wanted to hear. It was the truth. No one in their family would purposely hurt another, Chase and Justin's recent sibling rivalry notwithstanding.

"And if anyone is mean to you for bein' the bad guy…"

"We'll both get 'em!"

 **The Barnes Family Halloween Party**

With the bow on her back, Xiaoli went looking for Wanda, finding her standing near her parents, holding an empty plate.

"What up, _amiga_? We should head to the rec center."

Wanda gave her a cheerless smile. "Gracie has not yet arrived. She was so excited for everyone to see her costume, and I don't want to miss it."

Xiaoli held up her cell phone. "You could call."

~~O~~

Chase poked Justin with his elbow, and pointed to Wanda and Pietro not so casually edging their way over to the cooler containing the alcohol. He waved, and the brothers made a stealthy approach.

The younger twins reached into a cooler, and came out with two Smirnoff Ices in bottles. They twisted the tops off, tapped the bottles together, and took a sip. From their expressions, they liked the taste.

 _Too bad_ , Chase thought. The brothers snatched the drinks from their hands, Chase wagging a finger at them. "What did Gramps and Nat tell you about this?"

Instead of looking guilty, they huffed in annoyance. "It's just _one_ ," Wanda told them.

"And we've had wine before," Pietro continued, reaching for another.

Justin used his foot to close the cooler, holding it shut, and refusing to move. "Sokovia doesn't have a legal drinking age, but the US does. If you get caught drinking by the police, your parents are the ones who'll suffer the most."

Chase picked up the train of thought. "You could be taken away from them, and they'd be under investigation by Child Protective Services."

Apparently, the kids hadn't considered the ramifications of their actions. Typical teenagers. "We won't tell them _this time_. Just don't do it again."

Speaking for both of them, Pietro said, "We won't."

~~O~~

The four were joined by some of the twins' friends to decide who would ride with whom over to the rec center party.

The front door slammed, and the brothers turned in that direction, Justin muttering, "Probably the munchkin and her mom."

"About time," was Chase's contribution.

"She wouldn't tell anyone what her costume is. Not even Nat. And she tells Nat everything," Justin commented, echoing what Natasha had said before.

His brother chose not to respond. Instead, he took a long drink from the bottle he'd taken from Pietro, and made a face. "Why would anyone _drink_ this crap?"

Chase followed his older brother's lead, and made the same face. "Oh, God, that's awful."

They turned toward the back door just as Nicole stepped out onto the deck. Their cousin was dressed all in black and carrying a toy sniper rifle. Justin squinted in the dim light, trying to make out the symbol on the patch on her left bicep.

Nicole was followed by a short person with dark hair, wearing all black except for silver down the left arm, fingerless gloves, black combat boots, and a mask. She stepped out onto the deck, and together, she and Nicole stuck a pose. Justin could see the patch now, and recognized it as the creature that gave HYDRA its name.

Holding the rifle in both hands, the stock tucked under her right arm, Gracie turned, surveying the crowd that had stopped to watch, and wonder what they were supposed to be, but only those who hadn't been involved in a specific incident in downtown D.C. several months ago.

The bottles Justin and Chase were holding crashed to the deck, shattering and scattering shards of glass all over, because, when Gracie turned to the side, they saw a bright red star on her left bicep.

Their cousin's daughter had come to the family Halloween party as the Winter Soldier.

 **TBC**

 _Raison d'être_ \- reason for being, ultimate purpose


	112. Chapter 112

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Note: I realized almost too late that there was a wardrobe malfunction, so I made a change to chapter 111 regarding Mia's costume.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 112**

Breaking glass drew brief curious stares from non-family members, and sympathetic glances from those who knew the significance of Gracie's costume. Chase grabbed Bucky as he passed, nodding toward the back door. The plates of food their grandfather was carrying joined the broken bottles on the deck.

The trio scanned the crowd, ignoring those who'd gathered around Nicole and Gracie praising their costumes. Gracie lifted her chin in the air, obviously proud of her choice without knowing that it might cause angst among some of her relatives.

Mia scooted over to join them, exchanging WTF expressions. Chase felt waves of emotion coming off of his brother. Justin's body tensed, and Chase gripped his arm in support. A bit at a time, Justin relaxed though not completely. He kept a wary eye on Gracie as she moved through the crowd., and when he made to leave, Chase held tighter to his arm, forcing him to stay.

Bucky inhaled sharply, and darted over to Natasha, whispering urgently in her ear. The Avenger jumped up so quickly her chair fell over. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, staring, eyes wide and unblinking, as Gracie tentatively approached.

Chase tuned out all conversation except that between Natasha and Gracie.

"You like my costume, Tasha?"

Chase wouldn't have known what to say. But then, Natasha was made from a different type of cloth. There wasn't much that could make her break character. After a moment of disbelief, she smiled, and gathered the girl in a hug.

"It's the best _ever_ , little one."

~~O~~

The mental assault released its hold on Wanda, leaving her panting from the intensity of emotions that most keep hidden. She didn't know from where it had originated, or why. Thankfully, she was still in the bathroom when it happened so there would be no need for explanations.

She washed her hands, and splashed water on her face. In the midst of drying off, she was hit again by a third source, and then a fourth. There was something odd about it all.

Wanda followed the threads of disturbance back to their points of origin: Justin, Bucky, Chase, and Natasha, in order from worst to least worse. What she couldn't determine is why Gracie's costume should impact her family so negatively. By far, the greatest blows were to Justin and Bucky. Again, why should that be? She pushed the puzzling questions aside for later, determined to have a good time at the rec center party.

As she passed her nephews, she received the same mental push, though not as hard this time, most of it coming from Justin. They stopped to speak to her parents, and then left the party. The farther away they traveled, the pressure lessened, until all that remained was the barely discernible poke from Natasha, and a stronger one from Bucky, though nothing near what Justin had experienced. The other odd element was Bucky's lack of awareness as to _why_ he'd endured fear and, oddly, a form of self-loathing.

She'd just replaced her gloves when Xiaoli dragged her through the house again. "Let's hit the asphalt, Black Widow. We got a party to jump start."

"What does that mean?" Wanda wanted to know, confused by her friend's phrasing.

Xiaoli handed Wanda her jacket, and put her own on as they headed for the door. "I've been to these things a time or five. They're always lame until I spice them up a bit, but not so much they call Five-O."

Their friends and Pietro streamed out behind them. Wanda called out, "Shotgun!", and " _That's_ a relief. We've had enough dealings with the police recently. I'd just as soon not be one of them."

From behind her, Ivy observed, "Your family spends a lot of time in jail, Wanda. Why's that?"

Crossing her arms and huffing good-naturedly, Wanda stuck her chin in the air, not responding to the question. "I was hoping no one would notice."

Everyone except the twins laughed when Xiaoli snorted and muttered, "Hmph. Fat chance."

Pietro pinged her, and he was right. As friends, these people were better than most, but that didn't stop them from feeling annoyed.

 **The Jeffersonian**

 **Angela's Lab**

The automatic door slid open behind Angela, and Booth breezed into the room. She was alone in her lab, working on a personal project while Hodgins attended a forensic conference with their boss, Camille Saroyan. Michael-Vincent was staying with her dad, leaving plenty of time for artistic pursuits that had fallen by the wayside due to work and family life.

"Show me what you got, Angela."

Without turning around, she deadpanned, "Hello to you too, Booth."

The FBI agent was immediately contrite. "Sorry. It's just that Bones is still pissed that Metro has jurisdiction on the case." As if he were telling a secret that might be overheard, Booth leaned close, lowering his voice. "If what you found makes this an FBI case, it would make heroes of both of us with Bones." He stepped back, crossed his arms and hitched a hip on the corner of her desk. "That and…"

"You're looking for an excuse to talk to Captain America."

"It's not for _me_ , really. You know, Parker's a big fan, and I was kinda hoping to get his autograph, so I could surprise him with it on his birthday."

Angela walked around the hologram, tweaking the image until she was somewhat satisfied. "Can't help with that, but I can tell you one thing." She nodded at the 3D clip from the video running over and over like a gif. "The person carrying the dead man isn't your beloved Captain America. He may not even _be_ a he. However, considering the weight of the deceased, the miscreant had to be male, or an exceptionally strong female."

"How can you tell?"

"Well, without getting too technical, the suspect in the video is a hundred seventy to a hundred seventy-five centimeters. Captain America tops out at a hundred eighty-eight centimeters."

Huffing, Booth joined her at the holotable. "What's that in American?"

Slanting her eyes at Booth, Angela gave him a half-smile, nodding at the figure hovering over the table. "Your suspect is between five-six and five-nine, while the big guy is six-two."

"So, he didn't do it. How do we narrow it down?"

Angela raised her hand in a helpless gesture. "I've done all I can. That's the best we're gonna get. Can't tell gender _or_ race, which means your suspect pool is roughly seventy-five percent of the population of the entire planet."

Booth paced while rubbing the back of his head. "We're back where we started, with no case."

"Not really. We have managed to eliminate twenty-five percent of seven billion. It's not much, but it's a start."

"What if I take it to the lab at Quantico?"

Before the sentence was out of his mouth, Angela was shaking her head. "The software the FBI uses now is based off of my program." She turned off the table. "No one's gonna do better."

The FBI agent chewed on a thumbnail as he paced. "We gotta keep this to ourselves then."

~~O~~

Booth sat in his car without starting it, thinking. There had to be a way to make this a federal case, literally. The body had been found near a national monument placing the case under federal jurisdiction. However, where the body ended up is not where the man died, and until they located the initial crime scene, a judge had ruled that the case would remain with Metro PD.

He buckled his seatbelt, and put the key in the ignition. Maybe it was time to call in a favor or two.

 **The Barnes Family Halloween Party**

More than anything, Justin wanted to be far away from the reminder of the years he'd been gone from his family, but Mia and Chase wouldn't allow it.

"You can't just _leave_ ," Mia hissed in his ear. "Not without at least saying hi."

Chase added his voice. "That little girl worships the ground you walk on, bro. You'll hurt her feelings by running out on her."

Mia added, "She doesn't know any better. To Gracie, it's a costume honoring someone she holds in high esteem, not a way of life."

"Yes, but…" Justin cut off what he'd been about to say at a tug on his shirt. Gracie's eyes were all that could be seen above the mask, watching him expectantly.

"What do ya think of my costume, Justin?"

Nicole stood behind her daughter with the same expression, pleading with him to say something kind. Gramps and Natasha gripped each other's hands, holding their breath, waiting for him to respond. Gracie was such a sweet and innocent child. How could she have known her "perfect" costume would have such an impact on his mental state?

Going down on one knee, Justin offered up a small smile. "It's freakin' _amazing_ , munchkin. Tell me, why did you choose to dress like a villain?"

Gracie's eyebrow drew together, and anger filled her eyes. Letting the rifle hang over her shoulder, she yanked the mask off as she took a step toward him, the other hand balled into a fist as if she were going to hit him. "Don't _say_ that! Don't _ever_ say that! He's _not_ a villain! Other people made him do those awful things, and I hope they never find him!"

Nicole gave her daughter's shoulder a squeeze, dispelling some of her anger. Justin's eyes met his cousin's, and she smiled ruefully. "I think it's safe to say that my child is the Winter Soldier's biggest fan. In her eyes, he's a victim, not a villain. She believes he was being used as a tool, a human weapon, and is misunderstood by most of the world."

Nodding in agreement, Gracie stated firmly, "I don't think he likes being called the Winter Soldier either. He has a name, I'm sure of it. He just doesn't remember, or hasn't told anyone what it is because he's afraid that more bad people will come and take him away again." Lifting her chin proudly, she looked Justin in the eye, and in that moment, he got the feeling that she knew the truth, but didn't know she knew. "If he was here, I'd give him a big hug, so he would know that someone cares about him enough to want to be him."

Justin was touched by the absolute faith this innocent child showed in someone that most of the world saw as a criminal and terrorist. "You are wise beyond your years, munchkin. You're absolutely right. One of your special squishy hugs is _exactly_ what he needs." He opened his arms, and gathered her close, holding on much longer than was necessary because he didn't want to let go.

Chase tapped him on the shoulder. "Say your good-byes, bro. We gotta jet, or we'll be late."

~~O~~

In the car, Justin stared out the window, not even noticing that Chase hadn't started the engine until a finger poked him on the shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

Examining his emotions that had nearly gotten out of control, Justin nodded. "It was a shock seeing a miniature version of myself, and hearing Gracie's justification for her belief in his… _my_ innocence."

The engine roared to life. Chase made a sharp U-turn at the dead end, and they were on their way. "News flash: she's not the only one who feels that way, Goober."

Justin slanted a look at his brother, who was watching the road, muttering under his breath, "Troglodyte."

It didn't take long to arrive at their destination. Chase parked, and together, they went to the rear hatch to change their clothes. They removed the wigs, sweaters, and beat up undershirts, replacing them with long sleeved t-shirts and lightweight jackets. "I've never chaperoned a kid's party before."

Justin smiled, making an effort to appear more cheerful than he felt. "Neither have I. The director will no doubt have rules and/or advice on what to do."

As they reached the entrance, several cars pulled into the lot, blasting music from their speakers. The noise abruptly cut off, replaced by the excited voices of teenagers. The brothers ducked inside before they were seen, making their way through the small crowd that had already gathered, looking for the rec center's director.

 **The Barnes Family Halloween Party**

Mia slipped into the house, making a beeline for her grandfather's liquor cabinet while taking off the Red Riding Hood cape. She filled a glass with ice from the freezer, poured in one-part Fireball whiskey and three parts cranberry juice. After a moment's contemplation, she added a second shot of the whiskey.

With glass in hand, she wandered back out to the deck where the neighbors, family and friends who remained after the teenage exodus were laughing, eating, drinking, and dancing to a variety of Halloween themed songs.

However, Mia'd had something on her mind for a while now, and still hadn't come to a firm decision. Sam had been no help because he'd advised against it until later, without detailing _why_ she should wait, or _how_ much later. If she didn't do this soon, she might change her mind. Then where would they all be?

She knocked back a huge swallow of the drink, making a face at the taste. "Too much cranberry." The rest in the pinkish liquid chased the first down her throat. Mia went back for more, and returned to her post at the back door, watching, and thinking. _They deserve to have everything they want in life, and if I can help them do it, it's my privilege. It'll be my Christmas present to them_.

Her decision made, Mia celebrated by weaving her way to where Steve and Joi were watching Alice play with the neighborhood kids. "Mind if I borrow your husband for a dance, Joi? I promise to return him in the same condition I found him."

"I don't, if he doesn't," her cousin grinned at Steve as he wiped his mouth, and stood.

"Not at all." He led her to the dance floor, and together, they moved to the music. It changed from the Halloween fare that had been playing all night to something slower, not so silly. Probably because most of the kids were gone. Natasha and Bucky got up to dance too, and Mia couldn't help noticing that when the light hit her just right, you could see Natasha's baby bump.

 _When I'm worried and I can't sleep  
I count my blessings instead of sheep  
And I fall asleep counting my blessings_

 _When my bankroll is getting small  
I think of when I had none at all  
and I fall asleep counting my blessings_

 _So if you're worried and you can't sleep  
Count your blessings instead of sheep  
and you'll fall asleep counting your blessings_

To Mia, the song was prophetic, coming as it did from the movie _White Christmas_. Until this moment, she hadn't completely committed to the idea the full one hundred percent. Now, she was in with both feet. If that meant having a go more than once, then so be it. She wanted to tell them now, and get started as soon as possible. But then she thought waiting until Christmas would make it that much more special. Plus, she had a few wild oats she wanted to sow before diving into this project.

The song ended, and Steve kept hold of her hand as they walked back to the table. He held her chair, and returned to Joi's side. Alice came running up for no other reason than to get a quick cuddle from her foster parents. Mia had never wanted a child of her own. But, now, seeing Joi and Steve with Alice nearly changed her mind. _Close, but no guitar_ , as her friend Madigan would say. "Excuse me."

Mia went back to the liquor cabinet, and helped herself to another Fireball whiskey with just a splash of cranberry this time. She carried it to the living room, lay down on the sofa with her head on the arm, sipping slowly, wondering if Sam had gotten the hell out of Dodge, i.e. her apartment, yet. They'd planned on coming to the party as a sexy Little Red Riding Hood and a suave, handsome wolf, but things changed a few days ago when they argued about her project, and Mia asked him to move out. She still cared about Sam and wanted to be with him, but he was stubborn, and wouldn't listen to reason.

Maybe when the project was over, they'd talk about getting together again. Until that time, it was probably best if they only spoke when it was unavoidable.

~~O~~

Ivy and Pietro claimed the back seat of Xiaoli's car, allowing her to avoid Jimmy. She turned to speak to her brother, and found him and Ivy with their heads together, talking softly. Until now, he hadn't expressed an interest in any one particular girl except Jessa, and that was only minor due to being older than her by three years, and not able to say so at the time.

There was also the fact that Jessa only wanted to be around Pietro due to his connection to the Avengers. If she'd been hoping for an introduction, the girl was out of luck. Her brother would not bring a girl to meet the family unless he were serious about a future with her. Someone so shallow as to only want to be with another because of their family wouldn't stand a chance with him _or_ with her. She could've peeked into Jessa head and found out the girl's true motives, but that hadn't been necessary. Pietro was intuitive enough to have figured out what the girl was up to, and strung her along to mess with her the way she'd tried to mess with him. Good boy!

They arrived at the rec center, and Pietro ran around to open the door for Ivy. It was a good thing that the girl, and Xiaoli, had been otherwise occupied so they didn't see him using his super-speed.

Xiaoli and Wanda followed Pietro and Ivy into the center, silently giggling at the strange pair they made, he six feet, and the girl barely five. They slowed down to let them get ahead. Keeping a tight hold on her powers so her brother would overhear, she whispered, "They look cute together, don't they?"

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Maybe, if they weren't dressed up for a party. Your brother looks better as Indiana Jones than whatever he was before."

"I agree." Wanda drew her eyebrows together in thought. "I don't always understand American humor. Is it supposed to be amusing that someone named Ivy's favorite color is green?"

"Oh, you get it alright. And yes, it is. You gotta admit, in that emerald green flapper dress, she's…"

Wanda chuckled, and finished the sentence, "Steve would say the cat's meow."

Her friend wasn't listening anymore. Xiaoli was staring off into the distance, or so it appeared. Wanda looked in that direction, and saw what had stalled the girl's constant flow of words: Justin and Chase. They were out of costume, and keeping a close eye on the teens occupying the auditorium. "Oh, dear. My nephews are…"

"…chaperoning." Xiaoli made a snort of mild disgust, facing Wanda, hands on hips. "Did you know about this?"

"I did not. But I'm going to find out." Leaving Xiaoli in the dust, Wanda marched over to Chase standing near the punch bowl, and tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

Chase had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Justin and I sort of… well, not sort of, we _did_ trash the place. At first, the director wanted to ban us for life, but then he came up with a better punishment."

"Going to parties is a punishment?"

"No. chaperoning a group of rowdy teenagers is the punishment. Only _he_ calls it community service. I also teach a computer classes, and Justin does repairs." Chase filled a cup with punch, and handed it to her. "You don't have to worry about us embarrassing you, auntie. We'll be discrete, and stay in the background."

The music volume lowered, and a voice echoed through the center, one they both recognized… unfortunately.

" _Hey, hey, boys and girls! Are we having fun yet?_ "

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. Chase closed his eyes, and sighed loudly. When he looked at Wanda again, she gave him that look. "You were saying?"

"I've been wanting my brother back." He saluted her with his own cup of punch. "Be careful what you wish for."

~~O~~

Taking a deep breath, Justin summoned his former self, and hustled over to the mic as soon as he saw the opportunity. "I know karaoke wasn't on the schedule, kids, but too bad, 'cause it's happening. Right here. Right now!" He waited out more applause, clamping down on the urge to bolt. "I'll get the show started with an oldie but a goodie." He pointed at the DJ. "Hit it!"

 _I took my troubles down to Madame Ruth  
You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth  
She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine  
Selling little bottles of love potion number nine_

 _I told her that I was a flop with chicks  
I've been this way since 2006  
She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign  
She said, "What you need is love potion number nine."_

 _She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink  
She said, "I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink."  
It smelled like turpentine, it looked like Indian ink  
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink_

 _I didn't know if it was day or night  
I started kissing everything in sight  
But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine  
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine_

 _Love Potion Number Nine_

 _Love Potion Number Nine_

 _Love Potion Number Ni-i-i-ine_

 **Christine Everhart's Home**

Awaking with a start, Christine opened her eyes. The carpet was rough against her cheek. She pushed to a sitting position with a groan, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "Oh, God. What and how much did I drink?"

Her right hand felt heavy and sweaty. She held it up, confused to see her gun clamped so tight the fingers ached. Checking that the safety was on, she felt a sliver of apprehension at discovering it was off.

Christine put the safety on, set the gun on the bedside table, and climbed to her feet, groaning again as her limbs straightened. She shuffled into the bathroom, casting a glance at the clock on the way, puzzled that it wasn't even midnight, and she'd fallen asleep. Her bladder twinged, and she quickly gave it relief. Afterward, she washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and dried off, seeing herself in the mirror.

The events of the night came rushing back, bringing with it the foreboding she experienced while undercover at the Barnes home, hoping to finally get some dirt on Justin Lockwood. Christine needed something to show her bosses at the station, and soon, or she'd be out of a job. Uncertain of the source of the apprehensiveness, she dismissed it, so she'd be able to sleep.

Christine took out the pins holding her wig in place, tossing all of it on the vanity. She stripped out of the pirate costume, draping it over the back of the vanity chair, and sat down to take off the boots. She padded into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and got under the spray while it was still cold.

~~O~~

With a towel wrapped around her torso, and using another to dry her hair, Christine again sat in front of the vanity. She laid the towel in her lap and picked up the comb, running it through her shoulder-length blonde hair until it was dry.

Reaching for her nightgown, she shoved her arms into the sleeves, and pulled it down to her waist. She stood, and the towel around her body fell to the floor where she left it for now. Tugging the gown down over her hips, she left the bedroom for the kitchen.

Even though her toes were cold, Christine didn't bother with slippers or socks on her walk to the kitchen for a glass of wine. She stood at the island counter sipping the dark red liquid, thinking.

A sound startled her, and she nearly dropped the glass. It wasn't repeated. Her shoulder slumped in relief. "Your imagination is running overtime tonight, Everhart."

She finished the wine, set the glass in the sink, and went to check the doors and windows, and that the alarm was set.

Returning to the bedroom, she pulled the covers down, crawled into bed, and pulled the sheet and blanket up to her neck. Christine was out within moments, and the dream started immediately, causing her to call out in her sleep.

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

Standing with Gordon, Ivy, Rishima, Clay, and Curtis, Pietro covered his eyes, ignoring the snickers and whispers from his friends, and a few others who'd wandered up to poke fun. He recognized one of the voices as that of Wesley Wyndham-Pierce. His father was one of the richest men in the Eastern half of the US, and never let anyone forget it.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Wesley," Curtis commented with barely concealed annoyance. The young African-American man had dealt with his share of bigotry over the years, and detested those who wielded their wealth like a club.

Wesley sniffed arrogantly as if to chastise Curtis for even daring to speak to him. "On my way to a soirée uptown. Thought I'd stop in and see how the less fortunate spend their nights." A sneer entered his tone. "This is barely a step up from a trailer park."

"Contrary to what your parents have said," Rishima scolded, "you don't have to be rich to have fun."

Ivy, barely five feet of righteous fury when the cause was just, entered the conversation, hands on hips, and purposely invading Wesley's personal space. "That's right. In fact, we just came from a party at Pietro and Wanda's. Their parents are awesome."

"Hmph. Believe _that_ when I see it." Wesley attitude was what Pietro expected. He didn't think much of adopted children, especially those who came from poor, third world countries.

"You're gonna regret that," Clay interjected. "Their mom's _hot_."

Gordon's glare took on a facetious aspect Pietro had seen aimed at Wesley and his cohorts on many occasions. Pietro turned around in time to see Gordon take out his phone and access the photos he'd taken. " _That's_ his mother."

Wesley's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a leer. "Gotta hand it to you, Smurphy." Pietro silently praised Gordon for not making a scene at hearing Wesley's annoying nickname for him. "You weren't wrong." He snickered. "She's a MILF."

Unfamiliar with the word, Pietro butted in. "What's a MILF?"

It was obvious to everyone that Wesley thought it was a compliment. He wiggled his eyebrows and leered suggestively. "Mother I'd Like to…"

It took less than a second for understanding to set it. Anger sprang from every pour, and before the entitled rich boy could utter the last word, Pietro punched him in the face.

 **TBC**

"Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep)" is a popular song written by Irving Berlin and used in the 1954 movie _White Christmas_. It is commonly performed as a Christmas song, although the lyrics make no reference to the holiday. The best-known recordings were made by Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby.

"Love Potion No. 9" is a song written in 1959 by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. It was originally performed by the Clovers.


	113. Chapter 113

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 113**

"That's my _mother_ you're talking about, _mu'dak_." Pietro rubbed the knuckles of the right hand with the left.

Those nearby gasped in shock while Wesley writhed on the floor holding his nose. Naturally, the commotion drew the attention of Chase and another chaperone.

"What's going on?" Chase asked in a tone of authority as they helped Wesley stand. The other chaperone gave the boy napkins to staunch the flow of blood, and led him over to a chair.

Pietro followed, pointing a finger when he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't want to hear threats that your parents will make life miserable for my family, because you obviously don't know who _my_ parents are."

"Pietro?" Casting a wary glance at the other boy, Chase waited for an answer, and soon, he got it. Rather, he got part of one.

Staring down at the contemptible excuse for a human being, Pietro rasped out, "Nothing is going on, nephew. Just a demonstration of what happens when someone has a _big mouth_."

Chase stared down the others gathered around. "Anyone wanna chime in with details?" Xiaoli glanced left and right then stepped forward to whisper in Chase's ear. His expression morphed into fury. He stalked over to the young man, who was now cowering in his seat, his eyes darting from one angry face to another. To Wesley, he said, "You got off easy this time, pal. Not so much next time. You see, his mother is _my_ grandmother, and the men in our family don't take kindly to having our women objectified."

"Easy?! My _nose_ is broken, and the blood will never come out of my shirt. It's a Hilditch  & Key!"

"Small price to pay when the alternative is having your _ass_ handed to you by one of the Avengers." Wesley stared with his mouth open, obviously confused, so Chase explained in more detail. "Grams is the Black Widow, and Captain America is my brother-in-law." A gasp traveled through the group upon hearing this news. Pietro came up beside Chase. Both crossed their arms, and wore eerily similar smug expressions. "You might recall that they're the ones who stopped an alien invasion _and_ a bunch of Nazis who tried to take over the world."

Wesley took on the expression of a trapped animal. He shot to his feet, pushed his way through the onlookers, and out the front door, where he tripped, tumbling gracelessly down the steps. He picked himself up, and ran to a black sports car parked in a handicapped spot, and drove away.

Chase shoved his hands into his pants pockets, he and Pietro chuckling at the spectacle the spoiled rich kid made. "You're going to learn that some people are like Slinkies, Pietro. Not good for much, but you can't help laughing when one tumbles down the stairs." To the crowd, he said, "Show's over. Back to the party." Chase waited until he and Pietro were alone again to say what was on his mind. "You haven't heard the last of that one, uncle."

"This is true. He is not the type to let being publicly humiliated pass without some attempt at retaliation."

His companion popped him lightly on the shoulder. "You did good, Pietro, defending Nat that way. She'd be proud."

Pietro lifted his chin proudly. "How could I _not_ defend her? She's my mother." He spotted someone he wanted to talk to over by the buffet table. "Excuse me."

~~O~~

Chase watched Pietro weave his way through the crowd, stopping at the DJ's booth on the way to the buffet table. He touched the shoulder of the short girl with super-curly hair dressed as a flapper, who'd been at Gramps' house. The girl smiled up at him as he extended his elbow, and led her out to the dance floor.

The music changed to something slow and romantic, and Chase got the feeling that Pietro had chosen it on purpose, as a way to let the girl know he was interested.

 _Cupid draw back your bow  
And let your arrow go  
Straight to my lover's heart for me, for me_

 _Cupid please hear my cry  
And let your arrow fly  
Straight to my lover's heart for me_

 _Now I don't mean to bother you but I'm in distress  
There's danger of me losing all of my happiness  
For I love a girl who doesn't know I exist  
And this you can fix_

 _So, cupid draw back your bow  
And let your arrow go  
Straight to my lover's heart for me  
Nobody but me_

 _Cupid please hear my cry  
And let your arrow fly  
Straight to my lover's heart for me_

From where he was standing, it would appear that he couldn't see the drink table, which someone was taking advantage of. Chase watched and waited for the exact moment to intervene when two of the teens casually, they thought, edged up to the punch bowl. One had his hand inside his jacket hiding something. He looked around, and before he could pour the contents of the flask into the punch bowl, Chase snuck up behind them. "Ahem."

The boys jumped, the one with the flask fumbled, and some of the contents splashed all over the tablecloth. They had the good sense to be chagrined at getting caught. The taller of the two ventured, "How'd you know?"

Chase snorted. "Spiked a punchbowl or two in my misspent youth." He swiped the flask, capped it, and aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "On your way, and don't try it again."

The space next to him was filled by his brother. "That's the second time those same two guys tried to spike the punch."

The cap came off again, and Chase took a whiff, and cringed. "Oh, snap! Their parents have lousy taste in liquor."

"I'll drink almost anything." Justin took the metal container, and sampled the contents. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and passed it back. "You're right. That's crap."

The brothers lapsed into silence until Chase couldn't hold his good news in any longer. "Iris and I are moving in together."

"That was quick." Though the words sounded true, Justin's tone was deadpanned without being sarcastic.

Chase's shoulders went up around his ears and back down. "Why should we wait? It all falls into place when you find the right person. It's been that way with Iris since day one. Make that day _two_ , once I got over the shock of the wheelchair."

"Does the fact that she's able to walk again factor into this rush to commitment?"

Self-conscious about the subject, even with his twin, Chase confessed, "I wanted her when she couldn't walk, so it changes nothing now that she can." He looked down at his feet for a moment. "It's a little old fashioned, but I'm going to ask for her brother's approval, right before we ask him to move out."

"He'll need a place to live." Justin crossed his arms. "You could sell him your condo."

He hadn't considered that option. Just the fact that Justin suggested it showed Chase that his brother approved of his choice of a life-partner. Now they were even, because he approved of Rey as his brother's SO, provided he did the right thing. Too bad he couldn't tell Justin that Rey might be pregnant with his child. "Fantastic idea, big brother." The slow music ended, and was followed by more of the Halloween themed songs, sending nearly half of the dancers off the floor. "Speaking of fantastic ideas, why don't you do another number? I'm sure the kids would enjoy it."

"Got any special requests?"

"Anything but 'Thriller'. It's been done to death." A finger came up as a qualifier. "No pun intended."

Justin rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I have just the thing."

And he was gone. He stopped to speak to the DJ. The man nodded, and Justin made his way around to the other side of the stage. When the current song ended, he grabbed the mic. "Let's give it up for our main man with the plan, spinner of platters, and all-around good guy, Doctor Spin!"

~~O~~

"To keep the fun going, we've had a song request from one of my esteemed colleagues. If you wanna dance or even sing along, go for it. And don't hold back!" Deepening his voice in imitation of Bobby "Boris" Pickett, Justin sang.

 _I was working in the lab late one night_ _  
_ _When my eyes beheld an eerie sight_ _  
_ _For my monster from his slab began to rise_ _  
_ _And suddenly to my surprise_

 _He did the monster mash_ _  
_ _It was a graveyard smash_ _  
_ _It caught on in a flash_ _  
_ _He did the monster mash_

 _From my laboratory in the castle east_ _  
_ _To the master bedroom where the vampires feast_ _  
_ _The ghouls all came from their humble abodes_ _  
_ _To get a jolt from my electrodes_

 _They did the monster mash_ _  
_ _It was a graveyard smash_ _  
_ _It caught on in a flash_ _  
_ _They did the monster mash_

 _The zombies were having fun_ _  
_ _The party had just begun_ _  
_ _The guests included Wolf Man_ _  
_ _Dracula and his son_

 _The scene was rockin', all were digging the sounds_ _  
_ _Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds_ _  
_ _The coffin-bangers were about to arrive_ _  
_ _With their vocal group, "The Crypt-Kicker Five"_

 _They played the monster mash_ _  
_ _It was a graveyard smash_ _  
_ _It caught on in a flash_ _  
_ _They did the monster mash_

 _Out from his coffin, Drac's voice did ring_ _  
_ _Seems he was troubled by just one thing_ _  
_ _He opened the lid and shook his fist_ _  
_ _And said, "Whatever happened to my Transylvania twist?"_

 _It's now the monster mash_ _  
_ _And it's a graveyard smash_ _  
_ _It's caught on in a flash_ _  
_ _It's now the monster mash_

 _Now everything's cool, Drac's a part of the band_ _  
_ _And my monster mash is the hit of the land_ _  
_ _For you, the living, this mash was meant too_ _  
_ _When you get to my door, tell them Boris sent you_

 _Then you can monster mash_ _  
_ _And do my graveyard smash_ _  
_ _You'll catch on in a flash_ _  
_ _Then you can monster mash_

As always, the applause went on longer than Justin cared for or thought he deserved. Wanda made her way through the crowd to the front, watching him with those eyes. He knew she wouldn't invade his privacy without good reason, she'd said so in the past, and he was relieved that his misdeeds, before, during and after HYDRA, would stay where they belonged. To show how much he cared about her and her brother, and how he appreciated their support and patience with his moodiness, he'd do one more song.

"Alright, boys, girls, and others…" he winked, and waited out the snickering, "…this next song is dedicated to my favorite aunt and uncle." He nodded to the DJ, letting the strange minor-key riff flow over him, bringing to mind a Hollywood version of Indian music, and amorphous images of men and women he'd met over the years.

 _Raven hair and ruby lips_

 _Sparks fly from her finger tips_ _  
_ _Echoed voices in the night_

 _She's a restless spirit on an endless flight_

 _Wooo hooo witchy woman see how high she flies_ _  
_ _Wooo hooo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye_

The song had a similar effect on Wanda. In the arms the boy dressed as Iron Man, her eyes closed as they swayed to the slow, steady, surreal beat, her hips moving almost seductively. Another reminder of the woman in the song, who may or may not have been a succubus.

 _She held me spellbound in the night_

 _Dancing shadows and firelight_ _  
_ _Crazy laughter in another room_

 _And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon_

 _Wooo hooo witchy woman see how high she flies_ _  
_ _Wooo hooo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye_

 _Well I know you want a lover_ _  
_ _Let me tell your brother_

 _She's been sleeping In the Devil's bed_ _  
_ _And there's some rumors going round_

 _Someone's underground_ _  
_ _She can rock you in the nighttime_

' _Till your skin turns red_

 _Wooo hooo witchy woman see how high she flies_ _  
_ _Wooo hooo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye_

The last haunting notes faded away. Justin took a deep breath, and raised his head. Wanda's eyes locked with his over the boy's shoulder, widening in shock. In that moment, he knew she'd seen everything that he tried so hard to hide, not only from the world, but from himself.

All the shit HYDRA had put in his head, and had been rendered dormant by Zeya… Wanda didn't just suspect. She _knew_ because he'd just broadcast it loud and clear. And if _she_ knew, so did Pietro. The air in his lung turned thick as molasses, making it difficult to breathe. He had to get away.

 **Outside The Jeffersonian**

Booth wanted to slam his fist against the steering wheel, but the last time he'd take his frustration out that way, he deployed the airbag. If anyone other than Bones had been there when it happened, he'd never live it down.

He checked the time. "She'll be pissed if I call now." Deciding that the situation warranted the risk, Booth speed-dialed, and was rewarded with an immediate answer.

" _Why are you callin' so late,_ _cher_ _?_ _Please_ _tell me it's because you and Brennan are naming your next child after me, or there'll be hell to pay._ "

"Only if it's a girl, Caroline." Sorting the words inside his head, Booth made his request. "I need a favor. Big one. Don't do it for me, but for the mother of your possible namesake."

He pictured the face of their federal prosecutor friend, Caroline Julian, putting it together with the long-suffering sigh that came through the phone. " _This favor askin' business is a bit one-sided. We're gonna have to talk about the true meanin' of Quid Pro Quo one of these days_." She paused for a sip of wine. " _But that day is not tonight. Whatcha need, cher?_ "

"Bones wants in on a case the locals are handling, and I was hoping you could advocate for our services."

" _Why I let you and your friends talk me into these situations I'll never know, Seeley Booth. Hit me with your best shot. Which case?_ "

Grinning, Booth started the engine, and put the SUV into motion. "I'm _so_ glad you asked, _cher_."

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

As long as Wanda had known Justin, there existed, inside his mind, a place that he shied away from. Many emotions were associated with that place. Shame, self-loathing, regret, bitterness, remorse. She could've probed further, and without him knowing, but doing so would be an invasion of privacy of epic proportions. Unforgivable, and reprehensible.

Justin had no way of knowing that certain states of mind allowed leakage, for want of a better word, from those compartments in our minds. The ones where we kept traumatic memories and events.

While performing, her nephew achieved a sort of nirvana, wherein lay peace, and tranquility that he could actualize in no other way. Music, whether singing, dancing, or playing the piano, was a part of him, like a foot or a hand or an internal organ. Without it, he could never be whole. To him, performing for an audience wasn't work.

To go by his reaction, tonight was the first time Justin had truly immersed himself in a performance in years. Then, the moment he let his guard down, the genie had escaped the bottle. Fortunately, she was the only one present capable of being affected by his mental broadcast. What she saw explained his reaction to Gracie's costume, and the self-hatred.

Justin's smile faltered then it was back though not as brilliant as before. "I'm gonna give it back to Doctor Spin so the man with the mic-that's me-can take a break."

With the crowd's attention diverted, Justin cast a glance at Wanda, and quickly pushed through the crowd, headed for the exit. To stop him, she sent a message to Pietro.

~~O~~

The exit was up ahead. Just a few more feet, and Justin would be outside where he could breathe again. A split second before he would've been free, Pietro appeared in front of him. Glancing over his shoulder showed that no one had followed him. "Out of the way, Pietro."

"Wanda wants to speak to you."

Though he knew it was futile to try, Justin made an attempt to get past the boy, but his super-speed couldn't be matched. "Well, _I_ don't want to speak to _her_." Each time he side-stepped, Pietro blocked the way. "Move!"

Smirking, Pietro crossed his arms. "And if I don't?" Justin threw punches meant to discourage his uncle rather than hurt him. Not one made contact. Pietro shook his head, still grinning. "I can do this all night."

Desperate to get away before the all-seeing Wanda showed up, Justin clenched his super-strong left hand, and swung, no longer worried about hurting the younger man. He just wanted to be left _alone_. To his surprise and Pietro's, the side door opened, and both men found themselves flying through the air. They landed in the grass. Not gently or by accident.

Rolling onto his side, preparing to stand, Justin saw a pair of black boots, one foot tapping the sidewalk, which they'd narrowly missed during their short flight. Farther up, arms were crossed, and the scowl on her face rivaled the one belonging to the woman she'd chosen to emulate.

Pietro got to his feet, shared a glance with Wanda, and returned to the center at her nod, leaving them alone.

Hoping to get out of what was coming, Justin examined several scenarios that would affect an escape, but didn't get a chance to implement any of them. Wanda sat down, pulled off the wig, and got straight to the point. "Why did you run?"

 **Christine Everhart's Home**

Horrifying visions moved through Christine's dreams, a mass of chaos and confusion. Twisted metal, blood, broken glass. Screaming that turned to crying, which moved into whimpering, and finally… stopped.

She bolted upright in bed, frantically looking for the sources of this new fear, seeing nothing. The light flicked on, banishing most of the shadows from her bedroom. She pulled back the covers, and put her legs over the side. Her feet went into slippers, and she padded quietly into the living room, listening, but the only sounds were the refrigerator, the soft susurrations of the environmental system, and the occasional car passing.

In the kitchen, she put the kettle on for tea, and went to her home office to boot up the computer so she could go through the video downloads she'd taken with the cameras hidden around the Barnes back yard, and start the editing process.

Christine took a cup from the cabinet, filled a tea strainer with Ashwaganda tea leaves, hung it on the side of the cup, and poured hot water over it. Returning to the office, she set the cup aside to let it steep while she opened the files she'd hidden under several layers of encryption.

One by one, she opened the videos, and sorted them until she was ready to watch.

Two hours later, Christine had the beginnings of her investigation into the mysterious Winter Soldier, one of the men at the heart of the failed HYDRA coup. It was said that the Winter Soldier was responsible for the death of Alexander Pierce, Undersecretary of the World Security Council. Of course, the story could be apocryphal because her sources were less than stellar.

"This will bring the Winter Soldier out into the open. Someone in the Barnes family _has_ to know his identity, and my money is on Rogers, Romanoff, and Lockwood. His return from the dead is highly suspicious. If, as the rumor goes, he was undercover in Russia all that time, why let the world think he's dead?" She shook her head. "The only possible scenario is that he wasn't supposed to survive. So, why did he volunteer in the first place? Inquiring minds want to know, and this reporter's gonna find out."

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

"Running was a primitive psychological response to threat or survival resulting in a general discharge of the sympathetic nervous system in preparation for fighting or fleeing. I don't want to fight anymore, especially family, so I fled."

Several faces appeared at the window. Justin nodded, and Wanda turned around. She waved them away, and they were alone again.

One knee up, his right arm resting on it while he plucked grass with the other, Justin got his thoughts in order. "You saw what's in my head?"

"Some of it." She took hold of the hand shredding the grass, waiting until he looked at her. "Why don't you tell me the rest?"

Oh, he did _not_ want to do that! Not now. Not later. Not _ever_. Especially not with a teenage girl who happened to be his aunt. "Let's go with no." Once again, Wanda didn't let him get away with having his own way. "Do you know what it's like fighting a war inside your head _every single day_?"

"I have an idea." She tapped the side of her head. "Pietro and I had been with the program for several months. One day, I began hearing voices in my head, the thoughts of those around me, though I didn't know it at the time. At first, I was able to block them out, like whispering in another room. But each time the doctors gave me another series of injections, within a few days, they would get louder and louder, until I could no longer sleep or think or eat. It felt as if I was going mad. Each time it happened, I had to be sedated. Eventually, I learned to control my abilities, and to block out the internal voices of those around me."

Okay, so she _did_ understand, a little. But now wasn't the time or place to bare his soul. Others could be listening, watching, recording. Christine Everhart came to mind. Her or one of her minions. Not likely. His biomechanical arm wasn't sensing their equipment. That could mean they weren't in the area, or were far enough away he couldn't pick up their transmissions. "Fine. We'll talk. Just not here, okay?"

Wanda stood and held out a hand. Reluctantly, Justin let her lead him back inside. Outside the door to the auditorium, they stopped. "Remember, we all have something we're afraid to let others know about us, because if they did, they would see us differently, and that's not always a good thing. But then, sometimes, it is."

"What about you? Who do you share confidences with besides Pietro?"

One shoulder twitched. "Mother and Father. But then there are also some things you cannot share with your parents."

"Then why don't we be each other's pseudo-counselor?"

"That works for me." In Wanda's eyes, Justin saw her come to a decision. Naturally, there would be things that only _they_ would know about each other. "I will start our new relationship off with a small confession of sorts."

Intrigued, Justin played up his response, wiggling his eyebrows, and rubbing his hands together. "Cool! I love gossip."

Wanda gave him a side-eye and a wry smile as she put her wig back on. "Of everyone, I expect _you_ to be the least surprised, and the last to judge my choice, though I do not believe Mother and Father will care one way or the other. They would only want me to be happy."

"Choice of what?"

"Romantic partner." She looked away shyly, and extended her free hand toward a pool of inky blackness behind the curtain. Justin detected a darker shape hiding there. No, not hiding. Waiting.

The watcher moved forward on slow step at a time. As the leather-clad body emerged into the light an inch at a time, before their hands touched, Justin knew the identity of his aunt's new sweetheart.

 **TBC**

"Cupid" is a song written and performed by American singer Sam Cooke, released May 1961.

"Monster Mash" is a 1962 novelty song and the best-known song by Bobby "Boris" Pickett. The song was released in August 1962.

"Witchy Woman" is a song written by Don Henley and Bernie Leadon, and recorded by the American rock band Eagles, released August 1972.

Hilditch & Key shirts and accessories. For men with an effortless sense of style. For those who appreciate classic design and craftsmanship, but wear it with a creative, contemporary flourish.


	114. Chapter 114

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 114**

As Wanda's romantic partner emerged from the dark, Justin sent a mental message. One word, a name. When Xiaoli took Wanda's hand and stepped fully into the light, a soft wave of smugness lapped at her mind.

"I approve of your choice, auntie, but why you're telling _me_?" he indicated both young women. "And why keep it a secret?"

Xiaoli put her arm around Wanda's waist. "This thing is… it's so new."

"For both of us. We have been friends for months and then last week, while we were taking a break from studying…"

The Asian girl shrugged and sighed. "There it was. Until that moment…"

To Wanda's relief, Justin waved them silent. "I get it. You wanna be sure before you tell people."

"I believe the term is 'coming out', which I do not understand. Why do people feel the need to announce their sexual orientation? Heterosexual, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, pansexual, or even asexual - people are people. Who they love shouldn't matter."

"You're preaching to the choir," Justin told them with a wry smile. "I 'came out' when I was fifteen. Then I fell in love with a woman whom I'd very much like to marry and have children with. Until we work a few things out, we can't be together. Her choice, not mine." He leaned close. "Went on a couple of dates with a guy by the name of Marshall. There were no romantic sparks, so I friend-zoned him."

Footsteps and voices headed came in their direction. By mutual agreement, Wanda and her girlfriend put space between them. Xiaoli gripped the bow string where it crossed her chest. "How'd this Marshall guy take the news?"

"Meh. He was okay with it." Justin made an after you gesture, and followed them back to the auditorium. "I could have the DJ play something romantic, if you'd like to slow dance."

Wanda looked at Xiaoli, who shook her head. "Not yet."

Just inside the door, Justin stopped, and crossed his arms. "Still, I think we need another slow dance, so Uncle can cozy up to the flapper again."

Hanging back while Justin made his way over to the DJ, Xiaoli commented, "That went better than expected."

"Justin is a special case. I still have to tell the rest, though my parents' concern will be that I haven't told them I am dating _anyone_. And we aren't keeping it a secret because our families won't approve, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't wanna jinx it." She headed for a group of their friends seated at two tables pushed together. "We could still dance, you know. Women do it all the time without being SOs."

She wanted to, really, and said so. "I would, but Justin has something in mind."

Xiaoli was curious, but didn't question. She seldom did.

Wanda sipped from the cup of punch brought by Lucius, one of Pietro's friends, waiting for Justin to make his move. Sitting to her left, Xiaoli engaged in conversation with a few people they didn't know, while the two of them held hands under the table.

The intro of a familiar song played, the strings sounding mournful on this rather strange night. Wanda sensed Justin behind her, and looked up with a smile.

He extended his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"You may." Wanda placed her hand in his, and let him lead the way to the dance floor. Justin held her as one would a close relative, humming the tune in her ear. Normally, she didn't like when a dancing partner did that, but it seemed right that he should.

 _When the night has come_ _  
_ _And the land is dark_ _  
_ _And the moon is the only light we'll see_ _  
_ _No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid_ _  
_ _Just as long as you stand, stand by me_  
 _So darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me_ _  
_ _Oh stand by me, stand by me_

 _If the sky that we look upon_ _  
_ _Should tumble and fall_ _  
_ _Or the mountains should crumble to the sea_

 _I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear_ _  
_ _Just as long as you stand, stand by me_

 _And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me_ _  
_ _Oh stand now by me, stand by me, stand by me-e, yeah_

 _Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me,_

 _Oh stand now, stand by me_ _  
_ _Oh stand by me, stand by me_ _  
_ _Oh stand by me, stand by me_

Justin ended the dance by twirling Wanda under his arm, and back into his embrace.

 **The Wyndham-Pierce Estate**

Taking off the ruined shirt, Wesley shoved it in the trash. At least the blood hadn't gotten on his other clothes. He tossed the rest of his clothing in the laundry chute for the staff to take care of, pulled out a clean pair of silk pajamas, and went into the bathroom to clean up.

Wesley examined his nose in the mirror. It was tender to the touch, but not broken as he thought. He turned the water on, letting it run over his fingers until it warmed. Bending over the sink, he splashed water on his face, using a soft washcloth to get the dried blood out of the nostrils. "******* foreigners! Why don't they go back where they came from and leave good American citizens alone?"

There was a knock on the door that startled him, and he dropped the washcloth. He picked it up, and opened the door. Thinking it was a member of the staff, he barked, "What?"

His father's eyes skimmed down to his feet and back to his face. "I heard you were involved in an altercation, Wesley."

Turning back to the mirror, he checked that all the blood was gone. "You heard right, Dad. That Maximoff guy punched me. In the _nose_. And all because I said his mother's hot."

Crossing his arms, Dad leaned against the door jamb. "Stay away from that boy, son." Wesley attempted a protest that cut off when Dad grabbed his arm in a tight grip, the one that meant business. "I'm _not kidding_. The family and company are still rebuilding its reputation after your grandfather was involved in that failed coup. He's dead because he was stupid. _We're_ going to be smart. If we rock the boat too hard, the news agencies will come sniffing around again, and that would be bad for business. And anything that's bad for business is bad for your trust fund." He leaned close, eyes intent, and his tone left no room for disobedience. "Worse than the press, the Avengers might come after us."

Wesley snorted a laugh. "You don't really believe Maximoff and his sister are associated with the Avengers, do you?"

"It doesn't matter what you or I believe. We can't take the chance it may be true." At the door, his dad turned around. "Let me say this in words you'll understand, son. Do _not_ piss that boy or his sister off. If the Avengers come after us and the company, all of this," he gestured with his arms, indicating their home, and everything connected to it, "will become a distant memory, and you'll have to get a job."

Despite his harsh words, his dad closed the door with a soft click. While brushing his teeth, Wesley imagined a life without the luxuries he'd taken for granted all his life. An icy cold shimmied down his spine, chilling him to his core. For once, he'd do as he was told, and keep his distance. _Doesn't mean I can't hire someone to do the dirty work_ , he thought to himself. _I'll make a few calls_.

 _Where would you get the money_ , his conscience asked. _You won't have unlimited access to your trust fund until you turn twenty-five_.

Wesley chuckled to himself. _Where there's a will, there's a way_.

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

Justin walked Wanda back to her seat, and immediately offered Xiaoli his elbow. "Madam, may I have this dance?" Xiaoli stared at him as if he were a laboratory specimen she suspected was contagious. He grinned and winked. "I won't bite. Promise."

Xiaoli giggled, and hooked her hand around the proffered elbow. "I noticed you didn't say you _don't_ bite."

Wanda's nephew smirked, reminding her of Bucky. "Well, I won't tell if you won't. Shall we?"

"We shall." With her head held high, Xiaoli marched to the dance floor just as another slow song came on. She got a dreamy look in her eyes. "O-oh, I love this song."

"Me too. Reminds me of being a kid. Chase and I shared a room until Joi left for college, and he talked in his sleep. Kept me up sometimes. On the upside, I knew every dirty little secret my twin had. Blackmail material is hard to come by."

One hand settled on Xiaoli's waist, the other holding her hand as he moved them around the floor. Most of the young men had no idea how to slow dance, and were watching closely, copying his movements. _Maybe I should offer to teach the kids dance lessons as part of my community service_.

 _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart  
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark  
Try as I may I can never explain  
What I hear when you don't say a thing_

 _The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall_

 _You say it best, when you say nothing at all_

 _All day long I can hear people talking out loud  
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd  
Try as they may they could never define  
What's been said between your heart and mine_

 _The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall  
_

 _You say it best when you say nothing at all_

 _The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall_

 _You say it best, when you say nothing at all_

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Natasha and Bucky waved as the last of their guests drove away. They went inside, and Natasha leaned wearily against the door. "Alone at last."

Her husband grinned cheekily, pulling her close, one hand lightly rubbing her baby bump. "Yes, we are, just the three of us. Have you something in mind, _cara mia_?"

She backed out of his arms, removed the pins, and took off the wig. "Changing, to start."

He leered and wiggled his eyebrows. "As long as I can watch, I'm in."

It was said a gleam in his eyes, and yet, she could tell he was tired, and was flirting out of habit. "Absolutely." She yawned. "Think I'll shower in the morning. Oh!"

Bucky lifted Natasha in his arms, and climbed to the second floor with the cats on his heels. He put her down in front of their bedroom door, pointing. At the bottom of the stairs, Ryder and Priscilla were watching Dexter try to climb. The tiny kitten made it to the second step, and stopped. Priscilla came to his rescue. She picked him up in her mouth, and carefully climbed up. At the top, she kept going to Pietro's room where she waited for Ryder to open the door, so she could go in.

Making no sound on the carpet, Bucky and Natasha crept down the hall to peek in the door. Priscilla placed Dexter in his bed, a real one instead of the box, and lay down with him. Ryder joined them, letting his back legs and tail hang over the side. Dexter tried to get away, and Ryder held him down with a paw, to give him a bath. Natasha nudged Bucky away with a hand on his chest, and quietly closed the door. "Ryder's finally found his calling."

"Having Dexter around has given him a purpose. Still won't eat with the others."

Natasha closed the door, removing her shoes while watching Bucky take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, admiring the way he moved. The shirt came off, and was tossed over the chair in the corner with the jacket.

She went to him, turning her back so he could unzip the dress. "I've been reading about the different stages of pregnancy, and I have to say, most of what happens doesn't sound pleasant." She pushed the material down her arms, keeping hold of the front so it covered her chest as she turned around. "At least the morning sickness hasn't been a problem today."

On the last word, she let out a huge yawn. "Is this your way of saying no funny business tonight?"

She moved in close, and laid her head on his chest. "Sadly, yes. You know I always had to make my own path. Depending on how I feel, we could fool around a little in the morning."

"You have such great ideas. It's one of the many things I love about you." Bucky helped her into her pajamas, and carried her to the bed. Instead of tossing her in the middle as he'd always done, this time, he laid her gently on the soft surface. While she watched, he slowly finished undressing, put on his pajamas, and lay down next to her.

Wrapping her arms around him, Natasha urged him close, cuddling against his side. "We should kiss before I fall asleep." Pressing her hands to either side of Bucky's face, she brought him to her, worshiping his lips with hers.

 **Timber Glen Recreation Center**

The DJ played canned music while he took a break. Justin brought Xiaoli back to the table and joined the girls and their friends for conversation and punch while they nibbled on snacks. They faced the floor when the DJ came back on duty.

"Well, folks, it's that time: last call, but no alcohol. If you have a request, get it in now. I'll play as many as I can before midnight. Also, cast your vote for the last song of the night. My collection goes all the way back to the roaring twenties, so the sky's the limit. Let's start off with an oldie, but a goody."

The opening chords of "It's Raining Men" by The Weather Girls echoed in the auditorium. Justin jumped up, grabbed both girls' hands, and dragged them onto the floor. The trio danced, and sang along, the girls following Justin's routine he made up on the spot.

He noticed that less than half the kids were dancing, and left the girls to round everyone up, herding them onto the dance floor.

Justin stayed on the floor through the next couple of songs, all fast, and fun. To give the dancers a rest, the DJ put on a slow song, "Blue Bayou". Justin refused to let either girl leave the floor. Because Wanda was empathic, she would know he had an ulterior motive. With an arm around both girls, the trio moved and swayed, the loneliness of the lyrics creating a melancholy atmosphere.

 _I'm going back some day come what may to Blue Bayou_ _  
_ _Where you sleep all day and the catfish play on Blue Bayou_ _  
_ _All those fishing boats with their sails afloat_ _  
_ _If I could only see that familiar sunrise through sleepy eyes_ _  
_ _How happy I'd be_ _  
_

The song ended, and still, Justin held the girls close, their heads on his shoulders. He wanted Wanda and Xiaoli to have a romantic dance, and had bribed the DJ to play a specific song at just the right time, and that time was now.

With gentle nudges, he moved the girls back, so he could see their faces, and they would know why he was doing this. "Sorry to run out on you, but I gotta touch base with the other chaperones." Justin pushed them toward each other. "Keep dancing. We'll talk before you go."

"But…" Wanda and Xiaoli said at the same time.

Justin put a finger over his lips. "No talking. Dance." One eye closed in a wink just for them. He removed himself from the dance floor, watching for a moment as they awkwardly held each other and moved to the beat.

 _Time after time  
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me_

 _Time after time  
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
_

~~O~~

Looking around, Wanda noticed that there were other trios and even a few quartets slow dancing together. She would have to thank Justin later for giving her and Xiaoli this chance. They'd never danced together. Only cuddled, hugged, and kissed a few times, and never in such a way that either expected more. No… what did they call it? French kissing?

By unspoken agreement, they had put physical intimacy on hold. If or when it happened, it would be a mutual decision to take that step, move onto the next level. They wanted to be sure that this thing, whatever it was between them, would last beyond the end of the school year when they both went off to college. Next fall, Xiaoli would head off to medical school out of state, and maybe that's when it would end. Or they would continue long distance.

Holding Archie while lying in bed the night they'd kissed for the first time, Wanda had examined her sexual identity. Until that night, she'd only been attracted to men. The strangest aspect to it all was that she was still attracted to men, but now, she saw beauty in all genders, the internal as well as the external.

Xiaoli had been as shocked by their kiss as she. Her guard had dropped momentarily, and Wanda had seen the same conflict that she was experiencing, being attracted to both men and women.

The peek Wanda had inside Justin's mind earlier made her feel better about her own sexual identity. Unfortunately, Xiaoli was still struggling. Then there was the fact of her powers, and when or if to reveal them. Wanda pushed the unease from her mind, and let herself enjoy dancing with her girlfriend.

 **Later That Night**

The house was quiet, only the wind and the house settling, but Wanda couldn't fall asleep. Her thoughts were on the information Justin had broadcast. That feeling was still in the air, so to speak, even though he was nowhere near. Closing her eyes, Wanda followed the thread, back to the mind from where it originated.

She sat up, covering her mouth with her fingers, eyes darting around the room as if looking for something that was only in her head. "Oh, my God."

In an instant, Pietro was sitting on the side of her bed holding her hand. "What's wrong? I heard you call out while I was sleeping."

Unable to say it out loud, Wanda let him see what she'd seen in both Justin's and Bucky's minds.

" _Bozhe moi_."

 **Iris' Home**

 **The Next Morning**

Though she only needed a cane when she was tired, Iris used one to walk to the kitchen where she found Andre making breakfast, his infamous bacon and egg quesadillas. The coffee maker gurgled, and Iris rushed to pour a cup for both of them.

The bathroom door opened and closed, and Chase joined them with Dakota at his feet. Since their first night together, her service dog had treated Chase as if he were the love of his life. The dog still performed his duties for her, but in between, or when he wasn't needed, Chase was The Man, and she took second place in his affections.

"Mornin'." He helped himself to coffee, took out dishes, silverware and napkins, and stacked it all together in the crook of one arm while he sipped coffee with the other on the way to the dining room."

Chase was there and gone so quickly, Andre whispered, "Who was that masked man?"

Iris chuckled and poked her brother in the side. "I'll get the salsa." She joined Chase, who was staring at his phone as if he hadn't seen or heard her come into the room. "Excuse me. I've been here a whole thirty-seven seconds and have yet to receive my morning kiss."

Without looking up, Chase murmured, "Do I know you?" Placing a hand on either cheek, Iris turned him toward her, and gave him a kiss. They separated, and he smiled. " _Now_ I remember you." He kissed her again.

Behind them, Andre made gagging noises. "Do you have to do that where people eat?"

Chase pulled the napkin from under the silverware, and draped it across his lap. "Not the first time, and won't be the last."

Andre set a plate in front of each of them, keeping the third for himself as he sat across from Chase. "Way too much info, dude."

Iris picked up one of the quesadilla triangles and took a bite, chewing the food and the words she needed to say. She sipped her coffee, wiped her mouth, and dived in… no pun intended. "We have to talk, Andre."

"Right," Chase added. "No offense, but three's a crowd."

"You want me to move out."

The couple looked at each other then at him, saying together, "Yeah." Chase continued alone. "You'll need someplace to live."

Andre scooped salsa onto one of the triangles, and picked it up. "I've been looking for a place. Haven't found anything yet."

"I can help." Chase powered up his phone, and gave it him. "That's my condo. It's conveniently located, has amenities out the wazoo, and a garage."

The phone was handed back. "Not bad. What're you asking for it?"

"Depends. How much cash you got on you?"

Puzzled, Andre opened his wallet to count the bills. "Forty-seven dollars and one of those gold dollar coins."

"You're in luck, my good man, because my asking price is exactly forty-five dollars." Andre passed over the cash, and Chase shoved it in his pocket. "We'll go see my lawyer this afternoon and get it finalized. Oh, a word of warning. The homeowner's association president is Jae Hwa, and she's ruthless. Never lets you get away with anything. If it's not in the rule book, she calls a meeting and has a rule made that excludes whatever you're doing to the outside of the building that wasn't covered in the rule book."

"No problem, Chase. My brother will just turn on the charm." Iris held the men's hands. "It's settled."

Chase kissed Iris' fingers. "I'll need your help to decide what to keep, what to put in storage, and what to sell."

She reclaimed her hand, grinning. "First thing to go is that sofa. It sucks."

"Hmph. That's what Rey says too. Must be a woman thing." His phone beeped as a reminder. He wiped his mouth, kissed Iris, and headed for the front door. "Gotta go. See you at the office, babe. Andre, I'll text you with the time and address for the lawyers."

Driving to the office, Chase shook his head, amazed at how his life was finally coming together. "I am the luckiest man in the world."

 **Justin's Apartment**

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Pulling the covers over his head, Justin ignored the pounding on his front door, or tried to, wishing whoever it was would just go away and leave him in peace. He had to give it to the person for being persistent… right after he knocked their head off.

He threw the covers off, and padded down the hall wearing only pajama bottoms, yawning, and getting more and more irritated.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"Keep yer ******* pants on! I'm coming!" Justin yanked the door open, staring at his early morning visitor, stunned. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help. His voice barely above a whisper, he said the name. "Sean."

 **TBC**

"Stand by Me" is a song originally performed by American singer-songwriter Ben E. King, written by King, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, released April 1961.

"When You Say Nothing at All" is a country song written by Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz.

The author's favorite is from Irish pop singer Ronan Keating, whose version was his first solo single and a chart-topper in the United Kingdom and Ireland in 1999.

"It's Raining Men" is a song written by Paul Jabara and Paul Shaffer in 1979, originally recorded by The Weather Girls in 1982.

"Blue Bayou" is the title of a song written by Roy Orbison and Joe Melson. It was originally sung and recorded by Orbison, who had an international hit with his version in 1963. It later became Linda Ronstadt's signature song, released in 1977.

"Time After Time" is a song by American singer-songwriter Cyndi Lauper. It was released January 1984.


	115. Chapter 115

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 115**

Sean was dressed in blue jeans-unusual for him, sneakers, a blue and black plaid flannel shirt open over a white t-shirt, and a beanie cap that matched the shirt. A crooked grin turned up one corner of his mouth. "Personally, _I_ find it easier to **** with my pants _off_ , but whatever works for you."

Justin cleared his throat again. "Wh-What're you doing here?"

The other man's smile faltered, and a brief flash of hurt dimmed his eyes. "You act like you're not happy to see me."

"It's not that," he rushed to assure Sean. "I'm just… surprised." Belatedly, he invited him in and closed the door before his nosy neighbors got an eye and earful. He went to his room for a shirt, putting it on as he came back. "How did you find me?"

"Wasn't easy. Iris, your manager, wouldn't admit that you're the owner of Tunnel Vision, and someone else is living in your condo. I tried calling Chase, but that Iris person answered the phone."

Sean sat on the sofa with a groan, as if he'd just returned from a long hike. It drew Justin's attention the fact that he'd lost weight. Sean had always been slender, but his cheeks looked sunken. "I don't have manager because I don't own Tunnel Vision anymore. Turned control over to Chase. Iris is _his_ manager, and soon-to-be fiancée."

"Your brother's still fishing off the company pier then." One leg crossed over the other, and any good humor he'd shown vanished in an instant. "I've dropped out of the band."

"That brain-dead philistine, Maddox, said you left to go into rehab due to an addiction to drugs. Didn't believe it."

His guest shifted in his seat. "Then you're the only one, including my family."

Justin sat on the arm of the recliner. "Well, they don't know you like I do." Sean's phone beeped. He shut it off, and took a pill bottle from the pocket of his shirt, reminding Justin he was being a poor host. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee, tea? I also have hot chocolate, wine and milk. I could probably scrounge up some snacks too, if you're hungry."

He shook the pill bottle. "Nothing to eat, thanks. Water will be fine. Then hot chocolate, if you don't mind."

Escaping his ex's intense gaze gave Justin a few moments to breathe and process the fact that the man he'd been avoiding for almost two weeks had somehow found out where he lived, and was now sitting in his living room. He'd cleaned up and replaced the destroyed furniture, just in time for unannounced company. Sean would probably read more into the fact that there were no pictures of them than there was to it. Truth was Chase had put most of his shit from the condo in storage, and he hadn't yet gone to take it out because it was a part of his past he didn't want to remember.

He heard a sound, and turned to find Sean taking a seat at the bar counter. Justin opened a bottle of water and set it in front of him. Sean shook pills into his hand, and swallowed them with a long gulp. He set the bottle to the side. "What're you doing now? For work."

Justin put the milk on the stove to heat, took out two mugs and packets of instant hot chocolate. He knew Sean loathed it, but that's all he had. Sean dumped one packet then the other into the mugs, all the time watching Justin avoid looking directly at him unless he couldn't help it. "Construction. Building a day care where the old church used to be on High Point Road."

"Why'd you give up the club?"

Oh, he _really_ didn't want to talk about that! Especially not with his ex. "Long story. Not in a mood to tell it."

Sean shrugged to let him know it didn't matter. "Still do a little singing and dancing?"

"I'm home schooling my aunt and uncle in music. Karaoke now and then. That's about it."

Taken aback, Sean exclaimed, "Your _what_? Aunt and uncle?"

Smiling for the first time, Justin took out his phone, scrolled the photos until he found the one he wanted. "Wanda and Pietro. They're seventeen." Before he could ask, Justin explained, "Gramps got remarried earlier this year. Her name's Natasha. They adopted the kids, and a few weeks ago, they found out they're expecting."

"Um, how does that work again? He's in his nineties, right?"

Justin scrolled to a photo of Gramps and Natasha. "She's sixty-seven years his junior, and two months pregnant with their seventh child. Mmm… twelve if you count their five cats."

"Damn! I missed all the _good_ shit while out of the country."

 _Yeah, me too_ , Justin thought while he stirred the milk. He turned off the burner, nabbed two spoons from the dish drainer, dropped one in a mug, stirring while pouring the milk. "Don't have marshmallows or whipped cream." He pushed the mug across the counter, and filled the second mug, stirring absentmindedly.

Sean stirred the hot drink, brought it to his lips for a small sip, and returned it to the counter. "This is fine. Not as picky as I used to be." He stirred some more, as if it were super important, and took a bigger sip.

Ignoring his drink, Justin leaned on the counter, waiting for Sean to raise his head. When he did, they locked eyes, and Justin was surprised to find that the old feelings were gone. He still cared about Sean, but the physical attraction and love had evaporated like dew in sunlight. "You seeing anyone?"

Strangely, Sean laughed. It had a hollow feel to it. "No. There'd be no point." Justin waited for inevitable question. It didn't take long. "You?"

Justin came around and sat on the other bar chair. "Yes and no. We're on a break for reasons I don't want to go into."

Holding the mug in his hand, Sean stared into the swirling brown mixture, and brought it to his lips again. He choked, dropping the mug, and spilling the contents all over the counter. Justin handed him the bottle of water, and patted him on the back, while reaching for a hand towel to keep the mess from going on the carpet. The coughing turned to gagging. One hand over his mouth, Sean pushed Justin out of the way, and ran down the hall to the bathroom.

The gagging turned to vomiting. Justin rushed to the bathroom, and found Sean on his knees in front of the toilet, the skin of his face pale, almost grayish. The beanie had come off, showing that Sean's head was almost completely hairless. Just a few strands of hair on his equally pale scalp. He looked side-eye at Justin, and away. "Shoulda had the tea," he remarked.

Going down on his knees, Justin used one hand to wet a washcloth in the sink, and passed it to Sean while gently touching the middle of his back for comfort. Embarrassed, Sean wiped his mouth, flushed, and turned to lean against the tub.

"What really going on, Sean?"

He saw the beanie in Justin's hand, and touched his head self-consciously. "Guess it's time to give you the ABCs and 1-2-3s." Justin passed the beanie over, and Sean pulled it on to cover his head. "I'm dying."

 **The News Studio**

 **Christine Everhart's Office**

"Well, what do you think?" Christine asked the three individuals sitting around the conference table. They'd just watched her rough cut of video taken while following Justin Lockwood, and at the party she'd crashed. "Anyone?"

The two men and one woman shared concerned glances, the woman speaking for them. "Are you… feeling well, Christine?"

"Fine. Why do you ask?" Again, there were those looks, concern and disquiet. "I know it's a little rough, but Matt and Davis will clean that up before we air it."

The older of the two men shifted in his seat. "Tell us, Christine, what exactly do you think is on this video?"

Christine's jaw dropped. They'd seen for themselves. Why were they looking at her as if she were a child? "What _you_ saw. Proof that the Barnes family knows the identity of the Winter Soldier."

The woman turned the laptop around, and restarted the video, this time with audio. Screeching brakes, the horrible sounds of metal twisting and glass breaking are all she could hear. Leaning on the edge of the table, Christine watched one horrific car accident after another. At the end, it showed blood and bodies, covered and uncovered, all lifeless. She hit stop, and the screen froze on the vision of a man and a woman in an overturned four-door sedan. It was obvious that both were dead. "No! That's not… I didn't…"

The faces on the monitor blurred and changed, morphing into that of her parents. She backed away, the sound of the accident that killed them playing over and over in her head.

Covering her hears, Christine backed into a corner, sliding down to sit on the floor with her knees tucked under, muttering, "Oh, my God! It's my fault, it's my fault. I killed them."

The younger man got down in front of her on one knee. "Christine, who did you kill?"

"M-my parents. It's my fault they died. My fault."

He tried to take her hand, but in her current state, Christine saw him as her father come back from the grave, broken, twisted, dried blood all over his clothes, a huge slash across his abdomen where his intestines had spilled out. She screamed, "No! Don't touch me! I'm sorry, Mommy and Daddy! I didn't mean it when I wished you'd die!"

~~O~~

Pushing to her feet, Christine knocked the man over as she ran from the room. The three executives followed, watching with horror as she nearly ran down several people in her haste to get away. Each person who tried to stop her was pushed aside.

She stumbled to a stop at the corner that led to the elevators, keeping her back against the wall until she'd passed those coming the other way. As the woman reached the corner, Christine entered the stairwell, her footsteps echoing.

When they reached the door, instead of going down, Christine was headed up. The woman grabbed one of the interns. "Call security! Tell them to meet us on the roof. Now!"

"Y-yes, ma'am," the young man stuttered as he took out his phone.

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

Horatio sat in his place of honor on Gracie's bed while she told him about the party. "… we played all kinds of games, and Tasha said mine's the best costume _ever_!" She tilted her head to the side, forehead scrunched in thought. "Justin acted kinda weird when he saw me. Like he wanted to run away, but he didn't. I had to set him straight about the Winter Soldier, too. _He_ thinks he's a villain, but _we_ know he's not. I also got a prize for the most original costume at school because no one there believes there _is_ such a person as the Winter Soldier. They wouldn't listen when I told them how I knew he was real."

Gracie tiptoed to the door, and opened it just a crack so she could look out. From here, she could see her mother studying. Today, she had headphones on, listening to a recorded lecture. The girl closed the door, and returned to Horatio. She straightened the Winter Soldier costume she'd laid out on the bed.

Then, Gracie opened the nightstand drawer and took out the wristband. "We need to go to the park, Horatio. You-know-who keeps asking when I'm gonna get rid of it. I need to soon so she'll leave me alone. I don't like pretending that I don't know what she's doing."

She laid the wristband on the nightstand, and held up both hands, looking at them thoughtfully. "Horatio, because I can get people to tell me whatever I want to know, and do what I tell them, what do you suppose would happen if I did it to myself, and told me to forget I have the power? I'll drop the wristband in the water. And when I get home, I'll try it. Just need to get Mom to take me to the park. I'd never use the power on her. Not even to find out about my dad. All I have to do is ask, and she'll take me. It would be fun if Steve and Joi brought Alice and the dogs. Papa, Tasha, Pietro, and Wanda should come too. I'll talk to Mom when she's done studying."

 **The News Studio**

 **Private Rear Entrance**

The three executives stood by as the security guard closed the rear doors of the ambulance. He hit the door twice with his fist, and the driver pulled away without sirens or lights.

"The story we're telling is that she had a reaction to medication. We have to put a stop to any rumors before they begin. Pass the word to all departments that Christine was taken ill, and rushed to the emergency room. When she's released, she'll be on bed rest for at least a couple of weeks."

The older man shook his head as they went back inside. "We're not the thought police, Beatrice. People will believe what they want to believe."

At the elevator doors, the woman smirked. "As a news agency, it's our job to tell the people what to think. We just have to make it believable."

 **Justin's Apartment**

Holding up a hand to stave off questions, Sean continued, "I have cancer. The type doesn't matter." His eyes looked up and back to his lap. "Stopped the chemo just last week because it wasn't helping."

Picking at invisible lint on his pants, Justin asked, "Do you have HIV? Is that what caused it?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. Apparently, I have a genetic disposition to this particular form of cancer. Did genealogical research on my family going back several generations. A total of eleven relatives died of this or some similar form of cancer.

"How long have you known?"

Sean shook his head sadly. "That's the worst part. You know, besides the dying. My symptoms started a few months before I left on the tour, but I ignored them. Seven months ago, they got to a point where I couldn't ignore them any longer. A doctor in Belgrade did the tests, and gave me the diagnosis. If I'd told my doctor about the relatively minor symptoms before I left, the cancer would've been caught and treated, and I'd live another fifty years. But being a stubborn asshole means that by the time I got the diagnosis, the cancer had metastasized. Surgery was out, for obvious reasons. They wanted to try radiation, but I wouldn't go for it. Needless to say, the prognosis very poor. Just a few months."

Justin sat down, leaning against the cabinet, one knee up, and the other leg bent, his fingers scratching through his beard in a way that looked like a nervous habit. Too bad there wasn't some way to put him at ease. "I tried holistic and herbal medicine, acupuncture, meditation, a macrobiotic diet, prayer. Even paid a weirdo in Sedona, Arizona to perform reiki, and hired a professional cuddler for human contact. In the end, I settled for chemo. And you saw what it did to my hair."

As Sean expected, Justin made a comment that was meant to lighten the mood. "You gotta _own_ that look, Sean. Shave it all off, and when some nosy reporter makes an asinine comment about it, hit him or her with a few cutting remarks that will have them in therapy for years."

He couldn't help it. For the first time in months, Sean laughed out loud, which brought on another coughing fit. Justin started to come to his aid, but Sean waved him back.

Justin stood, and held out both hands. Sean grabbed hold, and let his ex-boyfriend help him stand. His knees almost buckled, and Justin held on tight, while Sean gripped the sleeves of his shirt through the dizziness that didn't stop. "You should rest."

Before Sean could utter a word of protest, Justin picked him up like a baby, carried him into the bedroom, and laid him gently on the bed. Too tired and nauseated to bother with checking out the furnishings, he scooted around trying to get comfortable, but it didn't work. Every inch of his body ached. Climbing to the second floor of Justin's apartment building had sapped his strength to the point that he'd leaned again the railing until he was able to stand on his own again.

His eyes closed, and opened again when Justin untied and removed his shoes, pulled the beanie off, and helped him take off the flannel shirt. Justin also unbuckled and removed his belt, and took off his pants to make him more comfortable.

Sean turned onto his side, and Justin pulled the covers up to his neck. He closed his eyes, and just before he dropped off, he murmured, "I treated you like crap when we were together, and now you're taking care of me in my hour of need. You're too good to me, Justin."

He never heard Justin turn out the light and softly close the door.

 **Serenity Hills**

The woman known as Mary Killigrew slept peacefully in the room to which she'd been assigned. The facility to which she'd been taken had a reputation for being discrete, while treating their clients with dignity and respect. Anyone taking a position with this facility had to sign a non-disclosure agreement, and that they could not work at a similar agency for three years no matter how their tenure ended.

The length of Mary's stay would depend on several factors. If she continued to hallucinate, tests would be done to determine why. However, if she were lucid upon waking from sedation, she would be evaluated by a licensed therapist to determine her fitness to return to work.

Until then, she would remain within these hallowed halls, looked after by the caring staff of Serenity Hills.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Sitting at the dining room table with her laptop open, Wanda stared at the screen without seeing the words of her essay. She was supposed to be putting on the finishing touches in order to turn it in on Tuesday, but kept getting distracted by the events she'd seen in Justin and Bucky's minds. Both men had killed, Bucky more than Justin, not counting his years in the Army. While Justin remembered each and every name, Bucky did not. Everything he'd done as the Winter Soldier had been "hidden" from his conscious mind. Seeing Gracie dressed as the Winter Soldier had disturbed his subconscious, without allowing him to consciously know the reason he'd reacted the way he had.

** _Wanda!_ **

She rolled her eyes. * _What do you want? I'm busy_.*

** _Come to my room. Now!_ **

Wanda closed the laptop, and stood, brushing her hands down the front of her skirt. * _Patience, brother. I do not want to disturb Natasha. She's taking a nap on the sofa with Dexter, Ryder, and Priscilla._ *

Tiptoeing through the living room, Wanda cautiously climbed the stairs, stepping over the one that creaked to keep from making noise. She hurried down the hall and into Pietro's room. He shut the door, and led the way to his computer. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "What did you _do_ to that woman from the party?"

"Nothing much. I only increased her level of paranoia so that she would feel that she was being watched, and leave."

Pietro toggled away from his school work to another page, giving her a few moments to read the article stating that Christine Everhart had been hospitalized due to a reaction to medication. "She does not care to take even aspirin."

"And how do you know this?"

Looking smug, he crossed his arms. "When she left, I followed, and slipped inside when she opened the door. I had a quick look around her home to see if she had any other recordings of the family. She did, but they mostly consisted of Justin at work, going to the grocery store, having a night out with friends at the sports bar, and working on his bike."

"That is only natural, as he knew he was being followed. You destroyed them, of course."

"I did, and all the other recordings that showed her and the others invading people's privacy."

Wanda nodded once. "Good. However, I must go see her, to find out what I've done wrong, and to fix it if possible."

"We cannot go today, sister. Justin is coming for Dexter."

She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Priscilla and Ryder will not be happy."

"Perhaps we can make up for it by teaching Dexter to eat real food instead of taking a bottle. Then they would have more over which to bond."

"Yes. I have been reading online and watching videos. He will be old enough to begin in the next few days." Pietro toggled to yet another page. "Here it says to mix the formula with soft canned food to start."

Wanda sat on the side of the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress, needing to bring up a sensitive subject. "There is something else I wish to tell you, brother."

He came to sit on the bed too, taking her hand. "You're dating Xiaoli." At her dumbfounded stare, Pietro explained, "I saw you kissing the other night after the party. It appears that her brother will have to find himself another girl."

"You don't seem surprised that I am dating a girl, and not a boy."

A shrug made the bed bounce a little. "You're my sister, and I love you. Who you date is not important. Only that you've found someone you care about that cares about _you_." He bumped her shoulder with his. "I would not be surprised if Mother and Father already knew, or at least suspected."

"They will not care that I am dating a girl."

"As long as you're happy." His arm went around her shoulders for a quick hug. "Now _go_. I have studying to do."

 **Justin's Apartment**

Justin laid Sean's clothes over the chair in the corner. His wallet fell to the floor, and when he picked it up, it gave him an idea. He wrote a note, propped it against the lamp on the nightstand, grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys, and left, locking the front door behind him.

He drove to the hotel where Sean had been staying, parked near the rear entrance, and took the stairs to his floor, letting himself in with the keycard he found in the wallet. Quickly and efficiently, Justin packed Sean's belongings, which included a watch and pendant that he'd given him as a gift the last Christmas they were together. He shoved them in a side pocket of one of the duffle bags, set both by the door, and used the remote to check out, giving a generic email address to have an invoice sent.

The last thing he grabbed before leaving was the duffle bags, and Sean's special pillow he couldn't sleep without. Justin ran down the stairs and out the rear door to the car. He stashed everything in the back seat, and got behind the wheel.

His first stop was Discount Mart, where he stocked up on foods that were kind to sensitive stomachs, broth, applesauce, pudding, Jell-O, several flavors of tea, and crackers. With the back seat full, he made a beeline for his grandfather's house.

Though Ryder and Priscilla complained, Justin packed up Dexter's things, set him and them on the front floorboard, and returned to his apartment.

Once the food was put away and Dexter had been fed, Justin gathered his dirty clothes, added Sean's to the basket, and drove to the Washateria. Marshall wasn't in evidence, making this trip less awkward.

When the clothes were done, he folded everything and stacked it in the basket. He carried it to the car, and returned home.

Dexter was still in his milk coma, one small paw twitching in his sleep. He ran a finger over the kitten's belly, noting that his fur was getting longer.

In the kitchen, Justin washed the plastic containers he bought, and set them aside. He filled a pan with water, and put it on to heat. A short time later, he had bowls of Jell-O in Sean's favorite flavors cooling in the refrigerator.

The bedroom door opened, and the bathroom door closed. When it opened again, Justin was waiting outside. "Feeling better?"

Sean made a vague motion with his hand. "Meh. Sort of." Justin stayed close as Sean walked to the living room, and took a seat in the recliner. He spied the bags on the floor. "That's my stuff from the hotel."

"Yeah. I checked you out, stopped for groceries, washed clothes, and went to pick up my cat at Gramps' house."

"Cat?"

Justin lifted the still sleeping kitten from his bed. "Kitten. He's an orphan. I've been bottle feeding him. My aunt and uncle were watching him for me." He carried Dexter over to Sean. "Wanna hold him?"

"Sure." Justin carefully laid Dexter in Sean's hands, and he cradled the kitten close, running a finger over his tiny head.

Aiming a thumb over his shoulder, Justin asked, "Think you can choke down some broth? I made Jell-O, but it's not ready yet. There's also tea, pudding, crackers, and some applesauce."

Sean watched Justin with that same penetrating gaze that used to make his pulse skip a beat, not surprised that it no longer had the same effect.

"What going on, Justin?"

Standing at the entrance to the kitchen, Justin breathed deeply a few times, bringing his eyes up to meet Sean's. "No one should be alone at a time like this. You're staying with me."

 **TBC**

Reiki - A Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing. It is administered by "laying on hands" and is based on the idea that an unseen "life force energy" flows through us and is what causes us to be alive. If one's "life force energy" is low, then we are more likely to get sick or feel stress, and if it is high, we are more capable of being happy and healthy.

The word Reiki is made of two Japanese words - Rei which means "God's Wisdom or the Higher Power" and Ki which is "life force energy". So, Reiki is actually "spiritually guided life force energy".

Professional Cuddler - Although we may live in a connected world, it may not always put us in the best position to benefit from the rewards of human connection through physical contact.

Hence, the rise of the professional cuddler and cuddle parties. Similar to a massage therapist, you can hire a practitioner for an hour-long session for around $80. Whether you're into hugging, spooning or just holding hands, the point is to relax, get some oxytocin pumping through your brain and chill.


	116. Chapter 116

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 116**

Getting to his feet with a grunt, Sean carefully laid the kitten in his bed, and went to Justin, using all his willpower to keep from stumbling. From the look on his face, it wasn't working. _This would be so much easier if I still had hair_. "Not necessary, Just. I'll be fine on my own."

His ex crossed his arms, leaning one shoulder against the door jamb. "All due respect, no, you won't. You need to be with people. Did you even _try_ contacting your family?"

Not wanting to talk about his parents, and the rift between them, Sean turned away. "They had their say years ago. I can't imagine it would be any different now that I'm dying." He looked around. "Where're my pants? I'm leaving."

Bending over to pick up one of his bags, Sean almost pitched head first onto the floor. He was stopped from making a total fool of himself by Justin catching him around the waist. "In the laundry basket. And _no_ , you're _not_."

Annoyed that he wasn't getting his own way, Sean pushed Justin away, and went back to the recliner. Resigned, he sat back, and extended the footrest. "Can I at least have my hat back? My head's cold." The beanie sailed through the air, and Sean caught it before it fell, pulling it on over his head. "Don't just stand there. Be a good host, and get me something to eat."

Like the smartass he'd always been, Justin bowed low. "What is thy pleasure, master?"

In the past, his antics had annoyed him, but this time, Sean played along. Something he'd seldom done. Most of the time, when Justin was being a silly ass, he would roll his eyes and go into the third bedroom of the condo for some peace and quiet to work on a new song. "I'll have a garlic-rosemary Cornish game hen with cranberry stuffing, zucchini with feta, and a nice chianti."

"We have several fine chiantis on hand. Do you have a preference, or should I surprise you?"

Sean waved a hand dismissively. "Anything that comes in the can. And a bendy straw, my good man."

As he turned around to go into the kitchen, Sean distinctly heard him say, "Wine in a _can_? Hmph!" A few minutes later, Justin carried a tray on which sat small bowls of applesauce and pudding, a plate of crackers, and a hot cup of tea, setting it over his lap. "We're all out of wine in a can. You'll have to make do with mint tea. It'll help your stomach."

Taking the napkin from the tray, Sean tucked it into the front collar of his shirt. "Where's the remote? I wanna watch the monster truck rally."

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

"Why are you so hot to go to the dog park, munchkin?" Nicole asked her daughter while tucking her into bed.

With wide, almost too innocent eyes, Gracie declared, "We haven't been in a while, 'n I wanna see Alice and the dogs."

Nicole handed over Horatio, set the Winter Soldier doll on the bedside table, and leaned down to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead. "We'll see. Natasha may not be feeling well enough to come. If Joi's working, Steve and Alice will be with her, and the dogs will be at Aunt Carolyn's."

"They aren't. Steve, Joi, and Alice, I mean. They're home. I talked to Alice after lunch. _She_ wants to go to the dog park too."

At the door, Nicole had one hand on the doorknob. "I'll talk to Nat tomorrow. If she's feeling okay, we'll make plans for this weekend."

"Yay!"

"Not so loud. Now go to sleep." Gracie pulled the covers up to her neck, and rolled onto her side.

She left the door open a crack so she could hear if her daughter called out during the night, and went across the hall to get ready for bed.

 **Serenity Hills**

 **The Next Morning**

Conservatively dressed so as to go mostly unnoticed, Pietro and Wanda walked onto the grounds of the mental health facility. Their plan called for Wanda to "convince" the staff that they were authorized to speak to Christine Everhart, checked in under the name Mary Killigrew. Once alone with her, Wanda would again use her abilities to repair the damage she'd done by accident. First, it would be necessary to determine what had caused the breakdown that the news station said was a reaction to medication.

Together, the twins strode confidently up to the reception desk. Pietro let Wanda do the talking for them. "We would like to visit with Mary Killigrew, please."

The receptionist looked at them over the top of her glasses. "Your names?"

"We're her brother and sister." The woman turned to the computer, and while her attention was focused elsewhere, Wanda sent a small tendril of red mist in her direction. "We should be listed as next of kin."

The woman's eyes flared red for a split second. "Yes. Your names are on Ms. Killigrew's admittance forms. She's in room 204, Nightingale wing. Please, go right in."

When they were out of her earshot, Pietro whispered, "That was easier than I thought it would be."

"You have no faith, brother. If the woman is later questioned, she will only remember a man and woman who asked after Christine. The hard part was finding out where she was being kept once we determined she was not at home." They turned into the hallway with the word Nightingale on a plaque to the right, glancing at the room numbers until they found 204. Wanda knocked on the partially open door. There was no answer so she slowly opened the door until she could see Christine sitting in a chair, staring out the window though the blinds were closed. "Christine?"

Without looking over her shoulder, she hummed a question, "Hmm?"

"Do you mind if we visit for a while?" There was no response, because she'd been drugged.

She sat on the side of the bed closest to Christine, giving Pietro a nod. He closed the door, and stood against it so no one could interrupt.

Wanda sent a tendril of psionic mist into Christine's brain, whispering softly. "Tell me your greatest fear, Christine."

Her voice a monotone, the woman spoke as if it were something that happened every day. "When I was seventeen, my parents were killed in a car accident, and it was my fault. I'm afraid people will find out, and I'll lose everything."

"How was it your fault?"

"We were arguing. I wanted to spend spring break with my friends, and they wanted to visit family, in Nevada, and stop at the Grand Canyon on the way back."

One side of Wanda's mouth turned up. "You do not care for hiking?"

Slowly, Christine's head turned side to side. "I like the city."

"Tell me the rest."

Her hands gripped the arms of the chair so tight, her fingers turned white. "My father refused to consider my side. He shouted, and I shouted back that I wished he and my mother were dead." Tears escaped, and rolled down her cheeks. "A drunk driver T-boned our car. Dad was killed instantly, and Mom died two days later. It was my fault. If we hadn't been fighting, he would've seen the other car. I killed them."

Without being asked, Pietro used his phone to look up the story online, whispering, "According to the article, the other driver had a BAC, blood alcohol content nearly twice the legal limit."

Wanda nodded once, and turned back to Christine, intensifying the mist. "Listen to me, Christine. You were _not_ responsible for the deaths of your parents. It was a tragic and unfortunate accident. Your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other driver had been arrested on several occasions for driving under the influence of alcohol. From this day on, you will remember your parents fondly, without the guilt that you've been harboring for their deaths. The man who did this is now in prison where he cannot hurt anyone, and that was _your_ doing. The testimony you gave helped put him there. He will not be getting out any time soon. The best revenge is to live a full life unburdened by something that you could not have prevented."

Pietro touched his sister on the shoulder as a reminder, and retreated to the door again.

"Quit your job at the news station, and take up a different profession, Christine. Become a writer, and do not restrict yourself to one specific genre. Begin with a series of murder mystery or psychological thrillers. The ideas have lain inside your mind for many years. Write them."

Christine took a deep breath, let it out. She took another, and smiled, looking around the room. "I have a million ideas already."

"When we are gone, you will not remember that I was here." Gripping her hand, Wanda smiled too. "Be well, Christine."

Wanda joined him at the door. He cracked it open, and peeked out. "We were seen by many people."

His sister flexed the fingers of both hands, the red mist thickening between them until it looked like blood. "Leave that to me." She flicked her fingers, and the mist oozed out the door, spreading out, and touching the mind of everyone in the building. "Come. We must hurry. It will not last long. We must be gone before they regain their senses."

~~O~~

Taking a deep breath, Christine let it out, and relaxed. Confusion covered her features at seeing her surroundings. "What the hell? Where am I?" She went to the door, looking up and down the hall until she found someone in uniform. The badge clipped to her collar gave her name, her position as a registered nurse, and the name of the facility: Serenity Hills. Normally, she would've badgered the woman until she got the answers, but not this time. She smiled pleasantly. "Excuse me? How did I get here?"

The nurse was about the same age as Christine, on the plump side, with short hair, and a steady, no-nonsense gaze. "Ms. Everhart, what are you doing out of your room?"

Christine waved a hand and made a face. "I couldn't stay in there. Too depressing. I need to be out among people. But you didn't answer my question."

"Go back to your room, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay." Behind her, she heard the nurse pick up a phone, and make a call. She went into her room and closed the door. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, Christine wondered how she could possibly have allowed herself to go out in public dressed like Spinster Barbie. She opened the closet and drawers, finding only boring, dull colors that did nothing for her. No bright colors and nothing that anyone would think of as fun. And what was up with her hair and make-up? She needed a change, and soon.

There was a knock, and the nurse joined her. "Have a seat, Christine." The woman sat on the side of the bed, and just for a second, Christine remembered another woman who'd been in the room. But that was ridiculous. She brought her attention back to the nurse. "You were admitted to Serenity Hills following a reaction to medication that triggered a breakdown."

"A breakdown? Seriously?"

"That's why you're here. To find out if…"

Angry, Christine shot to her feet. "You're saying I tried to commit suicide? No! I would never do that. Get my doctor in here, a therapist, anyone who will attest that my state of mind is stable, and I'm not a danger to myself or others."

Resigned, the nurse let out a long breath, and stood, the file tucked under one arm. "I'll contact the on-call doctor right away."

The door closed behind her, and Christine paced the length of the room with quick, angry steps. "This is absurd. How could anyone think I'd try to kill myself?" Stopping at the window, she parted the blinds, and there in the yard, she saw a bunny sniffing the air. As if it remembered that it was late for an appointment, it quickly hopped away. "I need a change, and not just my clothes. The whole package. Job, house, friends." She went to the door, and waved to get the attention of an aide. "Could I get a laptop? I don't need internet. I just want to get some thoughts down."

The young man seemed surprised that she had spoken to him. What happened in the last twenty-four hours? She couldn't remember a thing since leaving home.

Home. She snorted. _That's a_ _crock_. _It's a mausoleum. I couldn't be bothered to decorate it myself, had to hire someone who didn't know the real me. Well, that changes as soon as I get out of here. Oh, and I gotta get rid of that car. It's boring, just like my life. I need more… spice, more fun!_

The door opened, and the aide came in with a silver laptop. "Here you go, Ms. Everhart."

Again, she smiled. "Please, call me Chris."

He seemed uncertain, and ready to bolt. "Um, okay, Chris."

The door closed behind him while Christine unwound the cord and found a plug. Pulling the rolling table over, she lowered it so that she could use it as a desk. She turned on the computer, impatiently waiting through the start-up, anxious to begin her new venture. Well, technically, it wasn't new. She'd just never had time to begin writing the novels she felt were locked inside, begging to be let out. Now they would roam free for the world to see.

Christine opened a document, and began typing her resignation from her position as an investigative reporter.

 **That Weekend**

 **At the Dog Park**

Upon arrival at the park, Gracie let herself out of the booster seat, opened the door and ran down the hill to grab Alice in one of her ambush hugs. The girls wrapped their arms around each other, and hugged tight. The dogs came to see what the commotion was, dancing around the pair, wanting attention.

The girls parted, and Gracie grabbed the Frisbee, tossing it so the dogs would chase it, then she and Alice ran after them. Alice wasn't as physically adept, and Gracie was kind enough to keep pace with her.

Steve and Bucky came to help Nicole bring things from the car. Chairs, a picnic basket, drinks, toys, and a blanket for those who wanted to sit on the ground. There was a nip in the air, so she'd included jackets, gloves and hats, just in case. "I'm glad everyone could make it. She's been bugging me for over a _week_ to come to the park."

"No problem, Nikki. The fresh air helps Tasha's morning sickness."

One side of her mouth turned up. "Wish it had helped mine. As they say, this too shall pass." To Steve, she said, "Where's Joi?"

Steve nodded, and they all turned to see Joi running around with the girls and the dogs, chasing and being chased. She squealed when the girls got her around the waist, spinning in a circle while Trixie jumped up to take the Frisbee from her, and played her favorite game: keep away.

The three girls fell in the grass. Steve inhaled sharply, and Nicole slanted a glance in his direction. "She'll be okay, Steve. Just because she has Down Syndrome doesn't mean she's made of glass."

He smiled sheepishly. "Being a dad isn't easy."

Bucky set the cooler on the end of the picnic table, and slapped him on the back. "It's not supposed to be, Stevie. Tasha says, if it was supposed to be easy, it wouldn't start with something called labor."

Nicole shook a finger at her grandfather. "She has a point. Where _is_ Nat?"

"Took a walk around the pond. Sometimes, we go together, but mostly, she uses it as a way to meditate, clear her mind. Plus, she doesn't want to gain too much weight while she's pregnant, and she's been eating everything in sight."

She slugged Bucky. "Hey! That's the best part! Eating for two isn't just a metaphor, Gramps. It's meant literally. The mother provides nutrients for the baby by taking in enough calories to keep both alive."

Shaking his head, Steve set up the extra chairs. "Sounds more like a parasite."

"When they first come out, they look parasites. But it's all worth it in the end." Bucky got a far-off look in his eyes, and Nicole knew he was remembering the births of his own children, grandchildren, and the great grands. "There's nothing quite like holding your newborn in your arms seconds after birth." At the look on Steve's face, Bucky was immediately contrite. "Sorry, Steve."

"It's okay, Buck." Steve looked to where the girls were tossing the Frisbee to each other while the dogs lay in the grass panting. "We have Alice, and there are lots of other kids out there who need parents. The house will be ready soon, and we'll be all moved in the weekend before Thanksgiving."

Nicole tapped both men on the shoulders. They turned around, and she handed a bag of charcoal to Steve. "Talk while you get the grill going so we can eat sometime today."

~~O~~

Coming around the end of the pond, Natasha saw that Nicole and Gracie had arrived. She waved, and the girls came running to greet her, Joi going to the men over by the picnic table. The dogs were undecided then followed Alice and Gracie to where Natasha stopped on the stone bridge at its highest point, approximately twenty feet above the fast-moving stream. The girls hugged her around the waist and hip, and she leaned down to kiss them on the tops of the heads. "I missed you both. Having fun?"

The girls were talking at breakneck speed, too fast for Natasha to understand. The dogs danced around and she crouched to pet them as well. Trixie took the Frisbee, and ran off with Bruno in pursuit.

Leaning on the wall, she watched the water foaming and splashing over the rocks. She turned around, and hit something with her elbow. It fell into the water with a plop.

"Oh, no!" Gracie wailed. "My bracelet!"

"What happened, _malyutka_?" Gracie tiptoed so she could see over the edge. Natasha looked too, both watching as Gracie's GPS bracelet was carried away by the water.

Drawn by the disturbance, Nicole came running. "What happened?"

Natasha placed her hand on Gracie's upper back. "It was my fault, Nikki. Gracie took off her bracelet, and I knocked it into the water."

"I didn't like wearing it anyway, Tasha. It was getting too tight."

Smiling apologetically, Natasha started walking with Nicole at her side. The dogs, Alice and Gracie ran ahead. "Where did you get it? I'll buy you another."

"Oh, it was a gift. Truth is, the thing is more of an annoyance. Every time Grace gets too far away, it goes off, even if I can see her. But without a father around, she didn't want me to worry."

Her forehead creased in thought, Natasha asked, "Who?"

"Aunt Carolyn."

 **Justin's Apartment**

All of Sean's plans were shot to hell by coming to Justin's apartment. He was going to say good-bye to all his friends, write a long, heartfelt letter to his parents apologizing for the rift in their relationship, although it had been their fault in the first place. If his dad hadn't… He pushed the memories away, but they didn't go, replaying the last time he'd seen his parents over and over again. Hearing the slamming of the door, and his mother crying.

Tiny mews broke through the scenes in his head. He looked down to see Dexter sitting near his pen. "What're you doing out of your box, little guy?"

Dexter sat down, blinking dark blue eyes and wiggling ears too big for his head. "Mew." He wobbled over to the recliner, and tried to climb up, but only ended up getting his claws caught in the fabric.

Sean pried the claws loose, and lifted Dexter onto his lap. The kitten crawled up to lay on his shoulder, still crying. "You hungry? I can help with that."

He stood, set the crying kitten in the chair, and went into the kitchen, going over the instructions Justin had given him for preparing the bottle. "Okay, first you gotta nuke the formula to get it warm." He started the microwave, and while it was running, he got himself something to drink too. The chocolate flavored nutritional drinks didn't taste as good as the commercials led you to believe, but he drank them to make Justin happy. Unfortunately, sometimes, that's all he could keep in his stomach. He got on the scale this morning, and was disheartened to see that he'd lost another few pounds.

The microwave beeped. Sean took it out, and tested the temperature on his inner wrist. "Perfect. Time to eat, Dexter."

On the way back to the chair, he grabbed one of the towels from where Justin had left them on the table, picked the kitten up, and sat down with him on his lap. Dexter latched onto the nipple without much encouragement, sucking the milk down as if it would be his last meal. His eyes closed, and the look of bliss on his face made Sean chuckle. "Now I know why he rescued you, buddy. You're freakin' adorable."

Holding the bottle steady with one hand, Sean used the other to turn on the television, scrolling through the channels, looking for something interesting to watch. "Shit. Over a hundred channels and nothing good to watch." The synopsis for a special report sounded somewhat interesting, but it wouldn't be on until later. "When you're done, we'll take a nap until Justin comes home from work."

Dexter sucked down the last of the formula, and looked up at Sean, his eyes drifting shut. "Oh, no. You're not going to sleep yet. Not 'til the dirty work's done." He carried the kitten into the bathroom, spread the towel on the counter, and plopped Dexter in the middle while he reached for a wet wipe. "Okay, pal. On your back. One day soon, someone's gonna be doing this to me."

He wiped Dexter's little behind, grimacing all during the task. "You know, I never had kids of my own. The cancer took that away from me. Besides, I wouldn't want to leave 'em without a dad. I guess it's fate, huh?"

Cuddling Dexter against his chest, Sean shuffled into the bedroom, and lay down. Dexter crawled up to his shoulder and fell asleep in the crook of his neck. He pulled the covers up to his chest, and soon, Sean was asleep as well.

~~O~~

Sean woke up to the room shadowed in near darkness, only the lights from the courtyard showing through the curtains. He flicked the bedside lamp on to search for the kitten who was no longer on his shoulder. He found Dexter curled in a ball on the other pillow. Taking care not to wake him, Sean picked him up, carried him to the living room, and laid him in the pen.

One hand on the wall, he stumbled back to the bathroom, did what he had to do, washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and dried off while giving his features a critical once-over. With a heavy sigh, he wandered back out to the living room, and claimed the recliner.

His stomach grumbled, but he didn't feel like getting up again, or turning on the light, so he sat in the darkness with the remote in one hand while he watched the special report that had caught his eye earlier. He remembered hearing something about it while the band was traveling through Russia, but the information was spotty, and unreliable, and he was too busy to look into to it in more depth.

 _Who is the Winter Soldier?_

Video clips showed three men fighting in downtown D.C. The faces were blurred out, and only Captain America was easily recognizable.

In one scene, the shorter man flipped the man with the metal arm end over end. The banner at the bottom of the screen indicated that he was thought to be the international terrorist known as the Winter Soldier, who, until this past May, had been considered a myth. As he turned, though his face had been obscured, there was something about him that seemed familiar.

Using the remote, Sean reversed the DVR, and watched that bit over and over, freezing it on the frame where the Winter Soldier took center stage. Leaning forward, Sean examined the man's physique, his hair, the graceful way his body moved.

Sean was jolted out of his thoughts when the front door opened, and Justin let himself in. He carried grocery bags in both hands, using a foot to kick the door shut, speaking as he crossed to the kitchen. "Sorry I'm late. Stopped at the store for more supplies."

The packages thumped on the counter, and Justin returned to stand in the doorway. Sean looked from Justin to the frozen image of the man purported to be the Winter Soldier, and back several times, and it hit him why the man on the screen looked so familiar.

~~O~~

Justin returned to the living room to check on Sean, who hadn't greeted him when he came in. "Sean?"

The other man's jaw dropped open, and a look of near-panic flashed in his eyes. Justin came around so he could see the television, and his stomach dropped, for there on the screen was the frozen image of the Winter Soldier.

He moved toward Sean, stopping when he jumped up and backed away, holding the remote out in front of him like a weapon. "S-stay away from me!"

Extending his hand, Justin implored, "I can explain. It's not what you think."

 **The Gaslight Pub**

Running his nails through the scruff on his cheek, he slouched in the chair, watching the nob hoof it from the pub like he thought he'd catch a disease if he stayed long enough to finish a pint.

He downed the last of his drink, bought by the nob by way of introducin' himself. When the kid approached, his first thought was to tell him to skive off, but his instincts had tingled, and not in the good way. This bloke was cheeky, and well minted, so he gave a listen to his proposal, just for a laugh.

It was good he hadn't knocked the todger ass over tits once he'd heard the story, because he was about to throw a spanner in the works. He tossed a few bills on the table, and left by the side door.

He unlocked the car door, got behind the wheel, and started the engine, letting it idle while he made a call. "It's me… We have a problem. A _big_ one. I need to be brought in ASAP… I'll give you the details when I get there, Coulson."

 **TBC**


	117. Chapter 117

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 117**

Eyes darting around the room, looking for escape, Sean thought about making a run for it, but that idea died quickly. He could barely walk, let alone run. If Justin really was the Winter Soldier, even if he were fully healthy, he wouldn't stand a chance, because that's how they met: on the jogging trail.

"Please, Sean." Justin made placating motions with his hands as he took another small step in his direction. "Let's sit down and talk about this."

" _Talk_?" Sean challenged, pointing the remote at the television still showing the Winter Soldier reaching for a knife at his waist. "That's _you_ , Justin! I know how you move, that swagger in your walk. Each action perfectly executed. A-and that night we were mugged coming out of the bar," he tapped the side of his head, "you pushed me out of the way, and I hit my head. Through the stars, I saw you take those guys down using moves I've only seen in a Jackie Chan movie. Explain _that_."

To hide that he could barely stand, Sean crossed his arms, and dropped into the recliner. From his pen by the sofa, Dexter cried out, awakened by the raised voices. Justin got down on his knees, and lifted the tiny kitten, holding him so gently, it was difficult for Sean to equate the man in front of him and the man from his memory with the one on the screen. The one that the world was calling a terrorist responsible for several high-profile assassinations over the last _fifty years_. He didn't know how that could be. Justin would be thirty now. To hear the news agencies tell it, the Winter Soldier was ruthless and uncompromising. It's rumored that he also eliminated eye-witnesses to his deeds, and then disappeared without a trace. Only this blurry video existed to prove his existence, and that wasn't a certainty.

Sean tuned into what Justin was doing, and got yet another shock. He held Dexter in his arms, close to his neck, and was talking softly to him in a language Sean didn't understand.

Justin carried the kitten to the kitchen, still murmuring softly while he fixed a bottle. The microwave beeped, and he came back into the living room, and sat on the sofa, smiling with affection as Dexter drank from the bottle. "In a few days, you'll start learning how to eat real food, Dex. Would you like that? I'll take you to see Aunt Wanda and Uncle Pietro. You'll see Ryder and Priscilla. Archie, Penelope, Rufus, Gramps, and Nat will be there, too, and you'll have so much fun."

How could Justin be so caring of a helpless animal and still be the Winter Soldier? _And the way he's treated me since I got here, like he still cares. He's the same man, yet he isn't. It's so confusing_.

While Sean had been thinking, Justin had finished with Dexter, and was pacing in the hallway, talking on the phone in the same language he used with the kitten.

" _Spasibo, tetka… Da,_ _segodnya noch'yu…_ _Da…_ _Do svidaniya_." He hung up the phone and shoved it into his back pocket. "I'm going out. Won't be gone long. We'll talk when I get back, if you're up to it."

"Whatever. Just bring me a beer."

Justin rolled his eyes while packing up Dexter and his things, more than enough for an overnight stay with his aunt and uncle. The door closed behind him, and Sean gave serious thought to not being here when he got back.

 **Rey's Apartment**

The kettle whistled for attention. Rey turned the stove off, and poured hot water over the tea strainer. She picked up the cup, and turned toward the living room, catching sight of her swollen abdomen in the reflective surface of the refrigerator. No, the doctor hadn't been kidding when he said she was pregnant.

Taking a seat on the sofa, she covered herself with a blanket, and waited for Cleopatra to get comfortable to pick up her book. Instead of opening it to the page where she stopped, Rey sighed, took a sip of tea, and wondered, not for the first time, how to tell the father they were going to be parents. She didn't expect anything from him beyond moral support. The fitness studio was doing so well they'd expanded into the space next door where spin and aerobics were taught. They even had a guy come in a couple nights a week for self-defense.

Rey put the book aside, and picked up the cat, holding her so they were face to face. "I have an idea, Cleo. Why don't _you_ tell him he's going to be a father, and let _me_ off the hook?"

"Reow."

She hugged the long-haired cat to her, listening to the rumble of her purrs. "You're right. It's my job. I'll do it soon." Rey picked up her book. "Before Thanksgiving." Cleopatra meowed again. "I promise. He'll be overjoyed, and why not? _He_ won't have a constant backache, swollen ankles, and excessive weight gain. And at the end, he won't have to push something the size of a bowling ball out through his naughty bits."

Putting the book aside, Rey replaced it with her laptop. "Come on, Cleo. Let's look at baby furniture. What d'you think? Boy or girl?"

"Reow."

 **SHIELD Safe House**

" _Me_?" Lance Hunter exclaimed. "Our last encounter wasn't exactly a walk in the park, Coulson."

SHIELD director Phil Coulson crossed his legs, took a drink of his black coffee, and set the cup out of the way, all the time, watching Hunter with that stare. Very little set his nerves on edge. That was one of them.

"Why don't you go yourself?"

"We've been over this, Hunter. It's not time for the Avengers to know I'm alive."

Hunter paced to the other side of the room to lean against the wall with his arms crossed, snorting in frustration. "I don't get it. All this secrecy, yet you're all over the place, kicking arse, and takin' names, and not once was your photo in the news. How do you do it?"

Coulson uncrossed his legs, and stood. "I'm the director." He finished off his coffee, and headed for the door. "Report back once you've read her into it."

The door closed, and Hunter was left alone. "I can do this. She's probably forgotten all about Johannesburg." He tugged the sleeves of his sweater down to the wrists, smoothed his hair back, and shrugged into his jacket. "Piece of cake."

 **The Barnes Home**

The girls were in the back seats with the twins, teaching them the words to a popular song. In between singing and playing road games, Pietro and Wanda taught Gracie and Alice a few words in their language. Steve drove, and Bucky rode shotgun.

After taking Alice to visit Rachel at her sister's house, the group had spent the day driving around, and having fun while Joi wound up the last of the shows for the season at the local studio. There was talk of her headlining a solo show, but every time Laz and Bella mentioned it, Joi would put her foot down, adamant that the trio of her, Frank and Elyse stay together, and Steve supported the decision.

With Natasha's car in the shop, Steve pulled into the driveway next to Bucky's SUV. Breaking glasses came just before a body landed face up on the hood, denting it and cracking the windshield. He slammed on his brakes automatically reaching back to protect Alice though he knew she was secure in her seat. "What the hell?"

Steve put the SUV in park, and he and Bucky got out. They looked from the unconscious man to the house. Where there had once been one of the windows to Bucky and Natasha's bedroom loomed a gaping hole. Torn curtains fluttered in the breeze. Natasha looked down at the group without expression, and turned away, holding her hands curled, and blowing on the fingers.

By this time, Pietro and Wanda had unhooked the booster seats, and all four kids were standing with the best friends looking up with stunned expressions. Their gazes were grabbed by the front door opening. Natasha walked past her family, tiptoeing to peer at the face of the man on Steve's hood. "Lance Hunter. _Svoloch'_. What's _he_ doing here?"

Bucky pointed at the man. "You _know_ him?"

She made a face as if sucking on a lemon. "It's more accurate to say, 'we've met'. Four years ago, in Johannesburg. It did _not_ end well… for him." All heads turned to look up the street when sirens approached, and their next-door neighbor came running out of his house.

"Everyone okay over here? I heard the crash and called the police. Thought someone was breaking in." His eyes went wide at seeing the man lying on the SUV. "Whoa. I was right."

Two police cars parked across the street, and an ambulance stopped in front of the house. Two men jumped out, and ran to the back. They opened the doors, took out cases of equipment, and ran to the injured Lance Hunter.

The police officers, a man and a woman, took out pads and pens as they approached. "What happened?"

Natasha walked toward the house. "He broke in."

The woman followed. "Ma'am, we're not done. I need to take your statement."

Not stopping, Natasha went into the house, holding the door for the officer while examining the other hand. "I'm pregnant, and need to pee again. We'll do it inside."

The door shut with a kind of finality that Steve could tell Bucky had heard before by the way he flinched. "She is _not_ a happy camper."

"Would _you_ be, if someone you met once years ago broke into your house?"

The officer took in the group, one thumb stuck in his belt. "You're all witnesses to the incident?"

"Not exactly," Bucky told him. "It happened just as we drove up."

Pointing over his shoulder, the officer said, "You seem more shook up than her."

Rolling his eyes, Bucky rubbed the back of his head. "That's because I _am_. She's my wife, and an intruder just broke into our house while she was home alone. Wouldn't _you_ be upset?"

Steve gripped his friend's arm in support. "Calm down, Buck. If Nat was hurt, she'd say so."

Hunter groaned as he came to. The paramedics helped him sit then off the hood. One hand fingering the bandage on his head, Hunter moaned and rubbed his shoulders, "Why can't Romanoff just shake hands like everyone else?"

~~O~~

Angry that this man had turned a carefree day into a mess, Bucky got up in the cop's face. "I want him prosecuted to the full extent of the law! My wife's pregnant, and _he_ tried to kill her."

"What?!" Hunter exclaimed indignantly. "I wasn't trying to…"

The cop stopped Hunter by holding up one hand for silence, while speaking to Bucky. "If your wife is pregnant, who beat the crap out of him and threw him out the window?"

The entire group grinned at each other with obvious pride. Bucky straightened his spine, his chin coming up. "My wife, of course."

"She's _our_ mother!" the twins chorused as the other cop joined them with a puzzled look on her face. She motioned the male cop to her, whispering loud enough to be heard.

"Cade, do you have any idea who that woman is?"

He pointed at Bucky. "His wife," then at the twins, "and their mother."

The woman shook her head with a wry grin. "Oh, she is _way_ more than just _his_ wife and _their_ mother. She's an Avenger." She leaned closer. "The Black Widow."

Cade was taken aback. " _Shut_ the front door, Hilly!"

"It's true."

"Then we better get him booked, pronto." Cade pulled out his handcuffs, and snapped them around Hunter's wrists.

He struggled weakly against his bond. "Here, now. Get off me! Whatzat for? I'm a friendly."

Hilly held onto his upper arm, drawing him toward her cruiser. "Friendlies don't break in."

Craning his neck, Hunter called out to Natasha who'd just came outside again, "Come on, Romanoff! Have a heart. I was followin' orders."

Natasha crossed her arms, all weight on one foot so the opposite hip stuck out. "Since when do _you_ follow orders, Hunter?"

He snorted. "Since they come from the new director."

She considered Hunter's words. To the cops, she said, "I'm not pressing charges. You can let him go."

Cade and Hilly exchanged confused glances. "If you're sure."

Bucky put his arm around Natasha's shoulders. "She said let him go."

"Fine." Exasperated with citizens who refused to put criminals in jail, Hilly removed the handcuffs. "If you change your mind," she fished a card from her breast pocket, "give me a call."

The police and paramedics got into their vehicles, and drove away. By then, everyone had gone into their respective houses, including the neighbor, who shook his head, and muttered under his breath about selling his house and moving to Boca. His wife met him at the door, casting worried glances at the Barnes family. The man waved his arms, and went back into the house.

Steve closed the door behind them, while Natasha told the story. "He snuck in the back door while I was giving myself a manicure."

Bucky tucked a pillow behind her back, remarking, "Well, they say a woman is only helpless when her nail polish is drying."

"I'd just applied the last coat, so mine were still wet." She held out her hands, examining them critically. "Not a single smudge."

He hugged her close, glaring at Hunter over her shoulder. "That's my girl."

"Come clean, Hunter." Steve demanded. "Why are you here?"

~~O~~

Keeping a close eye on their guest, Pietro paced behind the sofa, occasionally catching his sister's eye. Their byplay didn't go unnoticed by Steve or by Hunter. As long as he behaved from now on, no further harm would come to him.

Hunter reached into his back pocket, and brought out a phone. "The director sent me 'round to give you the word. Someone's put a contract out on your life, Romanoff."

"Again?" Natasha seemed unconcerned. To Wanda, she said, "Would you and Pietro make some tea, please? Earl Grey for Hunter, oolong for Dad, decaf blackberry sage for me, and find out what the girls want. Steve?"

"None, thank you."

Pietro reluctantly went to the kitchen with Wanda. They stopped at the entrance to the dining room for a last look, and left the adults alone. Wanda used her psionics to listen in, and made it possible for Pietro to do the same.

He put the kettle on while Wanda set the tray with cups, saucers, and a plate of cookies. Keeping her voice low, Wanda said, "That man Hunter, his mind is constantly in motion. It is difficult to follow all the threads of his thoughts, except for one. He thinks of his ex-wife often. Perhaps because they now work together." Her forehead crinkled in thought. "I keep seeing another face as well. A man with blue eyes, and beginning to go bald. Hunter calls him…"

The kettle whistled, and Pietro rushed to turn it off. He poured the hot water into each cup, set the kettle on the back of the stove, and picked up the tray. They reached the dining room doorway, and heard Hunter say, "…and he wants it done by Saturday."

Wanda passed Hunter a cup while Pietro handed one to Natasha and Bucky. Hunter gave his sister a smile that Pietro could feel her returning. The man had charm, that's for sure. It made him suspicious about his motives.

Taking care to be discrete, Pietro and Wanda took chairs in the dining room where they could still see and hear what was going on.

"That's quick," Natasha murmured into her cup as she brought it to her lips for a sip. "Why so soon?"

"My," Hunter made air quotes, "employer is not a patient man. He's into instant gratification, and has the deep pockets to make sure he gets it."

Natasha nibbled a cookie, thinking. Even without Wanda's psionics Pietro knew what was coming.

"So, let's give it to him. The director outfitted you with all the equipment we need, right? We just have to set the stage."

Their father waved a hand. "We're not going to do anything that will endanger Tasha or the baby. I won't allow it."

Hunter snatched a cookie, using it to gesture. "Not to worry, mate. We got it covered." And he grinned, as did Natasha.

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Holding Cells**

 **Later That Day**

"…If you just let me call my father…" Wesley kept his voice from shaking by sheer will. Not in a million years did he think he'd end up in a place like this.

The cop gave him a shove, causing him to stumble into the empty cell. "You've had your one phone call, pal. It's not our fault your mother didn't answer."

The door slammed in Wesley's face. He pressed against it to keep the officer in sight. "That's just it. I didn't talk to _her_. Just her voicemail."

"Same difference. A call is a call." He shut and locked the heavy steel door, leaving Wesley alone with several unshaven, and by the smell, unwashed prisoners in other cells.

Looking around the cell with distaste, he chose a spot that appeared less dirty than the rest, and sat down. Elbows on his knees, he rubbed his hands together, wishing he'd called Dad instead his mother. Even out of the country, his father had power in the form of attorneys who were always on call.

When the detectives showed up at the estate, Wesley had been shocked. How could they have discovered his plan for Maximoff's mother? He hadn't told anyone, except the guy he hired to do the job. The detective's words kept echoing inside his head.

 _Wesley Alexander Wyndham-Pierce, you are under arrest for suspicion of the murder-for-hire death of Natasha Alianovna Romanoff-Barnes and her unborn child._

 _Unborn child… I didn't know she was…_

The detective ignored his attempt to interrupt. _You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?_

He could still see the man's face when he told him to go **** himself. He'd actually laughed while putting him in the back of the van with blacked out windows.

A short time later, the steel door opened to admit the same cop. He ignored the man until he opened Wesley's cell, pushed another prisoner inside, and left.

"Funny how things turned out, right, mate? You 'n me endin' up in the same jail cell for the same offense."

The pit of Wesley's stomach dropped at the sound of the familiar voice. He sat back, opened his eyes, and sure enough, the man he'd hired to off the woman was standing in front of him, grinning like a cat who ate the canary. "I've never seen you before in my life."

The man, who'd given his name as Tyler, sat next to him without invitation. "Sure ya have. Down at the Gaslight. Gave me ten grand to do a job for ya, with a promise of ten more when it was done. Well, it's done, mate."

"Assuming that what you're saying is true, how do you expect to get paid if we're both in here?"

"I expect you'll have a bunch o' high-priced solicitors who'll get us out by convincin' the authorities it was all a put-on. That we're a couplea mates havin' a laugh. Kinda like that movie, _Strangers on a Plane_."

Tired of listening to the man prattle on, Wesley got up and moved over to lean on the bars. " _Train_ , you idiot. It was _Strangers on a_ _Train_." He held out a hand when Tyler opened his mouth to speak. "Just shut the **** up before you get us both a lethal injection."

Once again, the steel door opened, and the same cop came in, this time holding tight to the arm of a woman with dark blonde hair. He opened the door. The woman jerked her arm free and stepped inside. When he was gone, the woman turned around, shooting a glare at Wesley. Her whole demeanor changed when she saw Tyler. The stiffness in her posture softened, as did her expression. Tyler stood, and the two of them met in the center of the room.

"Tyler."

"Katelin. Been a long time."

One hand came up to wrap around Tyler's neck. She jerked him to her, kissing him long and hard. They parted, and Tyler grinned. "Not long enough, babe." Katelin nodded in Wesley's direction. "That him?"

"Yeah, but we're havin' a bit of a laugh, pretendin' we don't know each other." He winked at Wesley over Katelin's shoulder. "He'll get it sorted out, and soon," his hands held onto the woman's waist and pulled her close, "we'll be off to some country that hasn't any extradition with the US."

"How soon?"

One shoulder shrugged. "Dunno. His dad's well minted, so it shouldn't take long. Couple of days."

Katelin pushed Tyler so hard, he fell on his backside. "Days?!" she growled. "I don't _want_ to be in here for _days_." She turned her attention to Wesley, and the look in her eyes could only be called murderous as she backed him into the corner. "If you don't get us out of here by morning, we're going to tell every little detail of your little plan to the cops. We'll get a couple of years for cooperating, while _you_ rot in prison for the rest of your worthless life."

Tyler joined her, and Wesley realized he was beaten. Keeping his voice low, he did what he'd been taught by his father when faced with a problem: he threw money at it. "You're sure the woman's dead?"

"Yup." Tyler held up one hand in the shape of a gun, pointed at Wesley's head. "Right in the ol' melon using special ammo, Russian, no riflings. They can't trace it to either of us. No charge for the wee one she was carryin'."

"Good. I just need to make a phone call to my father, and he'll have us out before breakfast. Say nothing about our previous agreement, and I'll get you enough cash to keep you in style for the rest of your lives."

The couple shared a look, and Tyler nodded. To the ceiling, he said, "That enough for you?"

Another voice came over the PA. "Plenty. Thanks for your help, Hunter. And yours, Morse."

The woman smiled, and this time it was pleasant. "Not bad for a demonic hell-beast, huh?"

Tyler, whose real name was apparently Hunter, pulled the woman close again, their foreheads touching. "It was said with affection, love."

This time their kiss went on long enough to make Wesley uncomfortable. "What's going on?" He pointed at the speaker. "Who _was_ that? And who are you really?"

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

Gracie sat Horatio and the Winter Soldier doll on the vanity. "You two are going to be my witnesses, in case you-know-who asks questions." She sat in the chair, took a few deep breaths, and pressed a hand to one cheek. Concentrating the way she had with Mr. Novacek, she spoke softly and firmly to her reflection. "Forget you have a special power. No matter what anyone says, don't remember that you can make people to do what you want. Never, _ever_ do it again." She repeated the same words over and over until she felt dizzy. The entire room spun, making her stomach feel funny, like when she had the flu last year. Her eyes closed as she swayed with the spinning inside her head.

~~O~~

Nicole put the last of the dishes in the drainer, dried her hands, and turned out the kitchen light on her way to the dining room table for a little studying before bed. Her laptop was booting up when she heard a thump. "Grace? Are you okay?"

She pushed away from the table, and went down the hall to her daughter's bedroom. The door was closed, and a light shone through the crack at the bottom. She knocked. "Grace Constance, you're supposed to be in bed." Another knock. "Grace?"

Turning the knob, Nicole opened the door, and gasped out, "Gracie!" at finding the girl lying on the floor next to the vanity, unconscious. She ran to get her phone, dialing on the way back. "My daughter's passed out… She's seven, no allergies… No, she hasn't been sick lately… Send someone! Hurry!"

 **TBC**

 _Strangers on a Train_ is a 1951 American psychological thriller film noir produced and directed by Alfred Hitchcock, and based on the 1950 novel of the same name by Patricia Highsmith.

 _Spasibo, tetka… Da,_ _segodnya noch'yu…_ _Da…_ _Do svidaniya_. = Thank you, Aunt… Yes, tonight… Yes… Good-bye.


	118. Chapter 118

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Many thanks to Winter-Soldier-88 for help with one of the plot points.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 118**

 **Metro Police Department**

 **Holding Cell**

Grinning, Hunter held Bobbi's hand as they stepped out, leaving Wesley alone in the cell. " _That_ was someone you should never have pissed off, mate." He opened the steel door to admit Natasha, Bucky and Steve. Wesley's eyes were wide with the sort of alarm that won't end well or soon, to go by the looks on their faces. The young man stumbled backward, sitting hard on the bench. Standing next to the others, Hunter and Bobbi crossed their arms as well, all five staring. Hunter lifted his chin. "

"The director's making arrangements for the boy's transportation to prison," Bobbi added.

" _Prison_?" Wesley screeched. "Without a _trial_? You are violating my constitutional rights! I want to see my attorney immediately. I'll sue for everything you own."

Bobbi snickered. "Attorney. That's funny."

With an affectionate smile, Hunter wrapped his arms around her from behind. "She's the most precious thing to me in the world, and _no one_ owns Bobbi Morse." His ex-wife and current lover reached up to pat his cheek with affection.

Stalking up to the bars, Natasha let the smirk slide away. "Your father's money won't get you out of trouble this time, Wesley. The people I work for are extraordinarily protective of their people." Gripping the bars, and getting as close as she could with her baby bump in the way, Natasha stared him down. "The fact that you used funds from outside the US makes this federal jurisdiction, meaning you'll be going away for a long time. No attorney, no trial." The pause was for dramatic effect. "Take a good look at the sun when the feds come for you in the morning. You won't be seeing it again for a long… long time."

She turned on her heel, and strode through the open steel door with Bucky, Steve, Hunter and Bobbi on her tail. The door closed with a clang. On the monitor, the SHIELD agents, current and former, and Bucky, watched Wesley flinch when the lock clocked, as if he'd been struck. He lay down on the cot, and faced the wall.

Tapping one foot, Natasha told the man dressed as a cop, "Put him on suicide watch. On Monday, have him taken to the Raft, in one of the bare-bones cells on the operations deck."

"How long should we keep him?"

"Five to seven days should throw enough of a scare into him that he'll never try something so stupid again."

The man smiled wryly. "Just like we planned, Agent Romanoff. I'll submit the report to the director myself."

Taking Bucky's hand, she walked him to the door. "Thank you. And thank the director for me, Agent Mobley. The phony jail and the agents disguised as feds were nice touches."

"Yes, ma'am."

 **County General Hospital**

 **Emergency Room**

The doctor used a penlight to test Gracie's pupil reactions, turned it off, put it in his coat pocket, and picked up the tablet. Using one finger to type, he added a few notes to the chart. "All her tests are negative, vitals are normal. I see nothing that could've caused your daughter to pass out, Ms. Barnes."

Holding Gracie's hand, Nicole huffed. "Seven-year-olds don't just faint, doctor."

"I feel _fine_ , Mommy. Can we go home now?" she whined.

Gracie kept playing with the oxygen monitor on her finger, and Nicole firmly moved her hand. "Doctor?

"Don't see why not. Keep her home for the next forty-eight hours, and call her pediatrician if she experiences any unusual symptoms. If she has another episode, call 9-1-1."

When the doctor had gone, and they'd signed out, Nicole helped her daughter get dressed. She pulled a knit cap over her head on the way to the car. Once Gracie was buckled into her seat, Nicole started the car, and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. At the light, she glanced into the rearview mirror. Gracie was looking out the window as if bored with everything.

"Munchkin, what were you really doing before I found you?"

"What I _told_ you, Mommy. I was sitting at the vanity imaging what I'd look like all grown up."

The light changed, and Nicole drove on, skeptical of her daughter's answer. "Seriously? That's it?"

Gracie put a finger to her chin in thought. "Yeah. I was pretendin' I was wearing a tiara and I was the queen of America. Horatio and the Winter Soldier doll were my guards." She wiggled her legs. "I don't think I'd make a good queen though. Too much dressin' up and ceremonies and stuff."

"Oh? What _should_ you be?"

From the look in her eyes, Gracie didn't want to say. "You won't like it."

The car came to a stop in their assigned parking space at the apartments. Nicole shut off the engine, and turned around in her seat, giving the girl a mock stern look. "What have I always told you?"

"That I can be anything I want." Saying the words lessened her unease while she unbuckled the booster seat. "I want…" her eyes wouldn't meet Nicole's until she took hold of her hand. Gracie's chin came up in that typical Barnes pride. "I want to be a soldier like Papa, Uncle Martin, Steve, and the Winter Soldier first. Then, when I'm done being a soldier, I'll be a spy like Tasha."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Secret Medical Unit**

Pacing in front of the hologrid displaying a vast amount of medical information, Tony listened to the doctor give a dumbed-down version of Pepper's condition, and he was not pleased. Not for the dumbing-down, but the content. Putting up a hand for quiet stemmed the flow of words. He leaned on the table that held a number of unfinished projects. "In as few words as possible, give me your expert opinion on the chances Pepper has of eventually resuming her life."

The doctor pinched the knot in his tie and cleared his throat. "That's difficult to say. The human brain is one of the most complex single objects on the planet. Imperfection, not perfection, is the end result of the program that is written into the highly convoluted apparatus that we call the human brain, and of the influences that are brought upon us by the environment and those that take care of us during the many years of our physical, psychological and intellectual development." He circled around to the other side of the hologrid. "Everything we do, every thought each of us has ever had or will have, is fabricated by the human brain. But exactly _how_ it operates remains one of the biggest unsolved mysteries. The more we delve into its secrets, the more surprises are in store for us. That being said," the doctor used a finger bring one particular set of tests to the fore and enlarged. "Ms. Potts has a slim chance of ever being the woman you knew before she was subjected to Extremis."

Tony crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his bicep in thought. "So, you're saying she'll wake up any day now?"

The man sighed, exhaling long and loud. "Mr. Stark, you would have a better chance of getting a tan in Siberia at midnight on New Year's Eve than Ms. Potts has of waking up."

 **Justin's Apartment**

Letting himself into the apartment, Justin found Sean asleep in the recliner again. With its thick padding, it was more comfortable than the sofa, and much easier to get out of when he was weak, which seemed to be all the time now, and getting worse.

Crossing the living room, he spotted Sean's bags stashed behind the chair. It didn't take a genius to figure out that his ex was planning on leaving while Justin was asleep. The plan could also have been to leave before Justin came back from Gramps and Nat's, but that didn't work out.

Actually, Sean being out of it most of the time worked in his favor. Because just the smell of food often made him nauseous, Justin had taken to eating out so as not to torture him with the smells and having to watch someone else eat something his stomach couldn't tolerate.

It also gave Justin time to get his thoughts together and decide exactly how much info to give Sean, if any, about his time as the Winter Soldier. Perhaps one of the rumors the family had spread would be the best way to go.

Leaving Sean's bags where he found them, Justin went into the bedroom, changed into his pajamas, and brushed his teeth before having a lie down until Sean woke up and wanted the bed back. Though he sensed it was something that Sean wanted, but wouldn't ask for, not once did Justin lie with Sean, while he was sleeping, for physical comfort. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

~~O~~

Justin was about to fall asleep when he heard a noise in the living room. Tossing the covers aside, he hurried down the hall to find Sean sitting on the floor with one leg in a pair of pants and trying to put the other in. He leaned his shoulder against the wall. "What're you doing?"

Sean offered him a mild glare. "Haven't left the apartment for a few days, so, unless I've forgotten, this is how you get dressed. Wouldn't want to scare your neighbors with my nakedness." He rolled to the side to pull the pants up in the back then plucked a sock from the duffle bag next to him. He got his toes in, and fell over. "Shit!"

Before Sean could ask for or decline help, Justin picked him up, and set him on the sofa. He fetched the dropped sock and its mate from the bag, went down on one knee in front of Sean, and put the socks and shoes on for him. "You can't walk more than a few dozen feet without help. How're you gonna drive?"

"Don't need to be able to walk to drive. Car does most of the work, once I get to fifth gear." Taking the box of tissues from the end table, he plucked several, and covered his mouth as he worked through a coughing fit.

Getting to his feet, Justin purposely loomed over Sean with his arms crossed. "Granted. You're on the second floor. How do you propose to get all the way down to the car?"

Shrugging sheepishly, Sean adjusted the beanie down over the tops of his ears. "Crawl, if I have to."

" _Why_ are you _leaving_?"

"The first reason is you said you'd explain. That what I saw on television the other day wasn't what it looked like. So far, nada." He grabbed his jacket, shoved one arm in, but kept missing with the other, growling his frustration. "Dammit!"

Justin helped Sean into the jacket then turned him around to straighten the front. Smiling with the smallest amount of affection, he tucked in his shirt and did up the front of his pants. Their eyes met, and Sean shook his head, but didn't elaborate. "I guarantee that even if you could get to the car, you wouldn't be going anywhere."

"Yeah?" Sean's chin came up in defiance. "How you gonna stop me?"

One eyebrow twitched upward. "Really wanna know?" Crossing his arms, Sean stepped back, using that stubborn look that nearly always made Justin give in while they were together. Not this time. "Start with a demonstration."

Justin opened the door, and stepped out onto the walkway. He scanned the parking lot, finding it nearly full of cars, yet thankfully devoid of people. The conditions for his demonstration weren't perfect, but they'd do. He returned to the living room, and came out with the ottoman. "Have a seat." Confused, but willing to go along with him for now, Sean sat. "Which car is yours?"

"The red convertible. 2015 Mercedes Benz S-Class."

~~O~~

"Nice car. Classy. Why'd they let _you_ drive it?"

Those three words made Justin sound like the man Sean met and sort of loved almost six years ago. Feigning nonchalance, and fighting a smirk, he made a "what can I say" gesture. "It's a well-known fact that class begets class… Beeb."

Justin stopped in his tracks, and turned around, pointing a finger. "I told you _not_ to call me that. _Ever_ … Chipmunk."

Sean raised his hands in surrender. "Truce! I'll put Beeb in the attic as long as Chipmunk goes with him. Deal?"

"Deal."

What happened next made Sean want to yell or scream or something, but no sounds would come out.

As if it were nothing, Justin jumped the second-floor railing, landing on the cement deck surrounding the pool. He jogged over to the Mercedes. Sean had backed it into a Visitor's space, leaving the front end visible in the parking lot lights.

Justin looked up to make sure he was watching. Putting his hands on the railing, Sean pulled himself to stand. He didn't want to miss whatever this little demonst…

As if warming up, Justin held up his left hand, turning over to look at the palm. He flexed his fingers, bent at the knees, reached under the front edge of the bumper, and lifted until it was at shoulder height.

Just as carefully, Justin set the sports car down, and looked up at Sean for his reaction. However, he had no idea what to say. When they were dating, and before moving in together, he discovered that Justin was strong, but not strong enough to lift a car with one hand.

Sean's legs gave out. He sat hard on the ottoman, and suddenly, Justin was beside him, concern creasing his features. "You okay?" All Sean could do was stare at him. As if he knew what was going through his mind, Justin gave him a patient smile. "Let's get you back inside."

His ex-boyfriend picked him up, ottoman and all, and carried him inside, setting both gently in front of the armchair. "Holy shit, Justin! I-I… don't…" he cleared his throat and started again. "How, um, how…"

Hands shoved into his pants pockets, Justin sat on the arm of the chair, staring at the floor. "It's part of that thing we haven't talked about yet." Keeping his head down, he tapped the heel of his right foot, a nervous habit when thinking and was about to change the subject because he didn't want to talk about whatever it was they were talking about. "What was the second reason?"

"For leaving?" Now it was Sean's turn to be chagrinned. "Gonna go see my folks. Get the hatchet buried before it's too late."

The air went out and back into Justin's lungs. He slapped his thighs and stood. "You're too weak to fly, and can't drive all the way to South Bend alone. I'm going with you."

Sean let Justin take a couple of steps before calling out to him. "Justin. Look behind the chair." He reached down, and came out with three duffle bags. Two were Sean's, and the third was Justin's. When their eyes met again, he grinned, adding in a little affection as he shed the jacket, and toed off his sneakers. "We'll leave in the morning. Stop and pick up a cooler for my special drinks on the way. That work for you?"

The bags were dropped in the chair. Justin returned the grin, shaking his head in the way that took the place of an eye roll. "Yeah. It does. If you need any refills on meds, order them now. Need help getting ready for bed?"

"Psht. I can still dress myself, Justin. Not _that_ much of an invalid." Justin's chuckle echoed in the hallway, cut off by the bathroom door closing. Sean sighed, and decided to sleep in his clothes so he wouldn't have to change in the morning. "Thanks for everything, Beeb," he whispered to the empty room.

He tossed Justin's pillow to the end of the sofa, unfolded the sheet and blanket, lay down, and covered himself. When the bathroom door opened again, Sean pretended to be asleep, leaving the bed for Justin.

 **Wyndham-Pierce Estate**

"It's about time, Charles. What took you so long to return my call?" Margaret Wyndham-Pierce, of the Chevy Chase Wyndhams, chided her husband while lounging on the vintage chinoiserie toile chaise lounge while examining her elegantly coiffured and dyed blonde hair in the handheld mirror. A member of the kitchen staff lightly knocked and entered, bringing with her another hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, garnished with shaved chocolate, and liberally laced with Kahlúa. She set it on the table and picked up the empty, leaving just as quietly as she had arrived.

" _I'm not in Rome for the food, pumpkin. I came here to_ _work_."

In her mind's eye, she pictured Charles, with his perfectly styled light brown and silver hair and neatly trimmed beard, standing in front of the mirror tying his Turnbull & Asser tie. A knock in the background meant that room service had brought an early breakfast of mushroom, spinach and asiago cheese omelet and buttery biscuit with a dollop of preserves. He would wash it all down with two cups of Moloka'i coffee, which the hotel kept on hand for his personal use. Then, he'd brush his teeth, floss, and put on the diamond and platinum tie clip she'd given him for their fifth anniversary, his favorite Rolex, and Harvard class ring.

With a silent, long-suffering sigh, Margaret picked up her drink, took a sip through the straw, and returned it to the table. "This will only take a few moments, darling. It's about Wesley. I just don't know what to do with that boy sometimes."

She heard the closet door open and close. " _Another speeding ticket? Call Ida. She recesses court at noon. She'll have it taken care of by the end of the day._ "

"Oh, that reminds me. We must invite Ida and Richard for dinner soon. Before Thanksgiving. They've already RSVPd for the Christmas soirée." In a distracted tone, she informed Charles, "He wasn't speeding this time. That boy actually attempted to hire someone to eliminate another student's mother. That boy he talks about that he said bullied him. It's a lie, of course." Margaret sighed dramatically as she went into the small closet in the corner. "I've about had it with Wesley. Too bad we didn't put him in a military academy when he was still young enough. You know, he's just like your father, with that HYDRA business. I won't be able to show my face at the club with yet another family scandal hanging over our heads."

The crunch of chewing came though the speaker and Margaret dutifully waited for her husband to finish. She pushed several items out of the way, and took down a plain box with a fingerprint-encoded lock.

" _After Father's colossal blunder during the coup, we should've transferred all the money offshore where it couldn't be touched, changed our names, and moved to a country that has no extradition treaty with the U.S. Vanuatu, Maldives, Fiji, or even Wakanda_."

Margaret wrapped her slender yet strong fingers around the object of her search, and held it up, feeling the familiar weight. "It's too late now, darling. Wesley's going to spend most of his life in prison. All because he had a dispute with another student and chose a criminal solution to the problem." She padded across the room and into the walk-in closet, her feet making no sound on the thick piled carpet.

" _We could still decamp, if that's what you want, pumpkin. Just say the word, and it's done_."

"I'm not going anywhere without my son. Until he's free, here is where I'll stay." The water in the hotel bathroom came on as Charles prepared to brush his teeth. Margaret could set her watch by his morning routine.

" _Several of the judges who may preside over his case are college friends. If a family member died, certainly we could convince them to let him out for the funeral. With an armed escort, of course. We'll have one of the body guards dispose of the escort while we hop in one of the private jets, and make our getaway. I'll start making plans when I get back to the hotel_."

A thought occurred to Margaret, and she allowed a note of false worry to color her tone. "You're not going to do something foolish, are you, Charles?"

 **Rome, Italy**

 **Chateaux Guilia**

 **The da Vinci Suite**

Charles Emerson Wyndham-Pierce finished brushing his teeth, rinsed, and wiped his mouth. "No need to worry, Margaret dear. I am _not_ my father. My plans don't include dying for a lost cause."

Through the phone, he heard what sounded like a door being kicked in. There were several muted pops, the thump of a body hitting the floor, and silence.

Grinning smugly, Charles shut off the phone, shrugged into his suit jacket, and left the room, taking the stairs while making another call. "Edgar, would you be kind enough to check on my wife? I got cut off while we were talking… I'm sure it's nothing… I'll be home this coming Wednesday evening. Have cook make spinach salad with shrimp, grilled salmon with chardonnay cream sauce, and crème brûlée for dessert… For two. My son won't be joining us. And don't forget the wine."

He hung up, and dialed again. "This is Mr. Wyndham-Pierce in the da Vinci suite. Please have my car brought around."

As he stepped into the lobby of the opulent hotel, Charles made sure he was seen carrying his phone. Before the driver could come around to open the door, he climbed into the back, "accidentally" dropping the phone in the driveway so that the limousine would run over it.

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **The Next Morning**

"I have to make a stop on the way," Justin told Sean as he got behind the wheel. "You can nap on the ride, if you're still tired."

Sean shifted in his seat, and fussed with the seatbelt, tightening it over his lap. "I'm good for now. Where we going?"

"My grandfather's. Wand and Pietro are taking care of Dexter. They'll need more formula, and instructions in case we're gone longer than expected."

"How about an introduction? I'd like to meet the new members of the family."

Justin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Speaking of new additions, Natasha, Gramps' wife, is having a baby, and so are my sister, Serenity and her husband. Let's see. What else? Wanda and Pietro, I told you about. Joi got married. She and her husband are fostering an adorable little girl named Alice, with an eye toward adoption. Joi is also one of the stars of a cooking show on the Culinary Channel. They've already been picked up for next season."

"Wow," Sean breathed with awe in his voice. "Your family's been busy the past couple of years."

Internally, Justin snorted. _Got that right, pal_. "Uh, yeah. Once we get on the road, we'll talk about the elephant in the sports car."

"Before that happens, just tell me one thing."

"As if I didn't know… What?"

Sean turned sideways in his seat as much as he could while wearing a seatbelt. " _Are_ you the Winter Soldier?"

 **Stark Tower**

 **Secret Medical Unit**

The head of Stark Medical Research and the nurse stood beside Pepper's bed. Additional staff were on stand-by. "Are you sure this is what you want, Mr. Stark?"

"No, but it has to be done. There've been no further improvements since the treatments in the TLV tank. Romanoff was right. Pepper wouldn't want this." He picked up Pepper's lax fingers. "It's time to let her go."

The doctor nodded to the team. They joined him, removing the ventilator and the feeding tube. Tony kept his eyes glued to the heart monitor, unable to look away, needing to see Pepper's last moment of life. Still, he inwardly cringed with every blip.

"It's done." A hand came down on Tony's shoulder. "It should only take a few minutes."

The hand was removed, and the staff left him alone with Pepper. Tony realized he was still holding her hand, and gave it a small squeeze as the heart monitor flatlined. The monotone hum grated on his nerves. He was about to shut it down when Pepper squeezed back. The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed without the need of the ventilator. "Jarvis! Scan Pepper!"

" _This is amazing, sir. I am detecting a seventeen percent increase in brain activity, and Ms. Potts is breathing on her own. Unfortunately, she does not appear to be regaining consciousness_."

"Whatever. Just get the doctor back in here pronto." Hope surged as Tony leaned closer, running his hand over her hair. "She's alive. That's all that matters."

 **TBC**


	119. Chapter 119

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling Santa.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 119**

 **Justin's Car**

Sean held his breath, waiting for an answer. Instead, Justin started the car, buckled the seat belt, and pulled into the street. "I've called the rental company to come get the Mercedes. My next-door neighbors have the keys. Also called my boss to let him know I'm taking an indefinite leave of absence."

"Not going to answer the question, are you?"

"It's not that simple, Sean."

He slapped Justin's shoulder with the back of his hand. "It only requires a yes or no answer."

Keeping his eyes on the road, Justin pinched his forehead in thought, or so it seemed. "You know that saying, 'One person's craziness is another person's reality'?" He signaled and made the turn. "Once we're on the road, I'll tell you a story about how one person can be present in craziness and reality at the same time, and not even realize it."

"Sounds like a Quentin Tarantino movie, or a death metal love ballad." Justin smiled at last, but it wasn't a happy one. More caustic.

"As I said, both."

They rode in silence for the rest of the drive. As they got close, Sean recognized the neighborhood, except for the Java Hut on the corner. That was new. Two teenagers were coming out as they passed, and they seemed to be watching the car. Certain it was his imagination, he faced forward, taking in the other changes, especially the houses at the end of the block. They hadn't been there the last time he visited. Yet another thing Sean had to atone for: being a prick to Justin's family.

Justin pulled over and stopped across from the house. An SUV and a flashy sports car were parked side by side in the driveway. "That might be too much car for your new granny."

The passenger door opened, and Justin offered him a hand with that same smile still present. "Nat's no ordinary grandmother."

Sean managed to make it to the front door. Justin knocked, and Sean did a quick breath and cap check. The door was opened by a teenage boy with silver hair. The same one he'd seen at the Java Hut. Behind him stood the girl. Both gave him a curious stare before greeting Justin with hugs and smiles.

 _How'd they get here so fast?_

They followed the kids into the living room. Justin helped Sean sit in one of the armchairs while he stood. "Where're Nat and Gramps?"

The boy nodded. "Mother is in the bathroom." He put a hand over his mouth and made gagging noises. Sean's stomach clenched in response.

"And Father is in the den." The girl rapped lightly on the door and stuck her head in, speaking in a whisper.

Justin's grandfather came out and closed the door. Shortly thereafter, an absolutely stunning petite woman, approximately thirty years old, wearing black slacks and a matching top joined them. She held out her arms for a hug, and presented her cheek for a kiss. "Good to see you, Justin." Then she noticed they weren't alone. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Sean. Sean, this is my Aunt Wanda, Uncle Pietro, and my step-grandmother, Natasha."

Shocked and not wanting to show it, Sean stood to shake the woman's hand. She was much shorter and stronger than she looked, and he didn't like the way she watched him without blinking. "Nice to finally meet you, Sean. Justin's told me so little about you."

He gave her small joke the grin it deserved. "And you, Natasha. You're _really_ married to…"

"Justin's grandfather. Yes." She rubbed the small mound over abdomen. "And one on the way."

Before Sean could recover, Justin leaned close enough to whisper, "Told you." He nodded at the last person to enter the room. "Gramps, you remember Sean."

The men shook hands. "General Barnes."

"Sean." The look in his eyes said he hadn't forgotten how things had ended for him and Justin. "Long time. How's the tour going?"

"Had to drop out." He shifted in his seat with a small grunt. "Medical reasons."

Taken aback, Bucky blurted, "Oh."

 _Yet another who believes the lies Blaze spread_.

To the teenage boy, Justin said, "Would you get the bag out of the back seat, please, uncle? The green one."

"Oh course." Pietro took the keys, and while Sean was forcing himself not to be sick again, he heard the front door open and close, then open and close again in rapid succession. "Here you go, nephew."

Believing his attention had wondered, Sean didn't think anything of it. His time-sense had been off for a while now. To take his mind off the nausea, he looked over the family.

The girl, Wanda, had long dark hair with highlights, and was dressed for mall hopping, if they still did that. She wore a long-sleeved, dark turquoise sweater dress that stopped above the knee and had pockets. Her slouch boots were dark grey, comfortable with short heels, and her legs were covered by black tights. A bohemian style scarf was draped around her neck. Hanging from a pendant was a spider fashioned from black gems, and had a red hour glass on its belly.

In comparison, Pietro's clothing virtually guaranteed he would go unnoticed next to his sister, if it weren't for the silver hair. Blue jeans, a long-sleeved navy blue long-john shirt under a dark green, black and white flannel shirt, unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. As expected, his feet had been shoved into an expensive pair of sneakers. The boy watched him with a glare in his blue eyes. "Now I remember. _You're_ the ex-boyfriend. The _mu'dak_ who treated my nephew like _derr'mo_." He got up in Sean's face. "I don't like you."

Natasha, Justin and Wanda hid smiles behind their hands. Instead of reprimanding him, Bucky leaned close to Natasha. "What did he say?"

She whispered in his ear, and his expression changed to annoyed rather than angry. "That's not polite, Pietro. Even if it's true."

Pietro crossed his arms, his chin coming up defiantly. "If you expect me to apologize, do not hold your nose."

Again, they laughed, and this time Sean joined in. Dropping an arm around Pietro's shoulder, Justin offered, "Breath, dear uncle. Don't hold your _breath_."

"Some people hold their nose when they hold their breath. Does it matter?"

Sean came to Pietro's defense, surprising the group. "Leave the boy alone, Justin. As your grandfather said, it's the truth, and the General is never wrong."

Suddenly, Wanda was standing next to him, peering into his eyes thoughtfully, with a sliver of confusion. "Why did you come back?"

~~O~~

Justin stepped in to take control before someone else insulted Sean. "We're taking a road trip, auntie." He held up a finger when her face lit up. "You and Pietro can't come. This is for Sean and me to get reacquainted, as friends, and for him to see his family."

Wanda's face fell, showing her disappointment. "Perhaps another time then."

"Absolutely. In fact, I'll pencil you in for a couple of weeks during the summer, before you start college. Think about where you'd like to go, and we'll talk when I get back." He placed a hand on Natasha's upper back. "By the way, Nat, I'm spending Thanksgiving in South Bend with Sean and his family."

"I know this is important, but we'll still miss you, _lyubimaya_."

Out of Sean's sight, Pietro ran upstairs and came back with Dexter. The moment he saw Justin, his mewling got louder. "Want to see something?"

"Sure." He reached for the kitten, but Pietro wouldn't let go. A paw swiped at his leg. Priscilla. She seemed to be thanking him for bringing Dexter to visit again. Dutifully, Justin picked her up for a quick cuddle. Ryder sat on the bottom step, with the others behind him, looking like a Queen cover band.

Wanda and Pietro prepared dishes for the cats, and another for Dexter. They mixed formula with wet food, making it into a slurry. They set the dishes at the feeding station, and the cats came running. Pietro set Dexter next to his bowl, and the kitten scarfed the food so fast, he appeared to be starving. As always, Ryder was the lone hold-out, staying on the stairs, and watching his siblings.

Then, something amazing happened.

Pietro grabbed Justin and Wanda to get their attention. Over his shoulder, he hissed, "Mother! Father! Come quick!"

Natasha and Bucky joined them, and a moment later, Sean did as well. "What's going on?"

The group hushed him, motioning for Sean to come forward so he too could see that for the first time since he came to live with them, Ryder was eating with the other cats. He pushed between Dexter and Archie, taking some from each plate.

Justin tapped Wanda on the shoulder and motioned for her to come with him. He led her out the back door, and across the yard to the gazebo. They sat down, and put the swing into motion.

Choosing his words carefully, Justin hesitated before making his request. "I know what you did for Nat and iris."

"How could you? Only Chase and Pietro know that I helped Iris to walk again. And I've told no one about Mother except for Pietro."

"Didn't know for certain until you confirmed it." Turning sideways in the seat, he held her hand. "Sean is very sick, Wanda. Terminal cancer. He's stopped taking treatments because they weren't helping. He only has a few months left. This road trip is to say good-bye, and for him to make up with his estranged family." Squeezing tighter forced Wanda to look at him. "If you helped them, you can help Sean. You can save his life. Please. Do it for me."

~~O~~

Wanda paced inside the gazebo, and even without using her psionics, she could feel Justin's eyes following her every move as she considered his request. No, it wasn't a request. It was a plea for the life of the man he once loved. While he still cared, Justin no longer had the same romantic feelings. Those had evolved over their time apart into a close friendship that would last a lifetime, if Sean's weren't about to be cut short.

Both she and Justin knew that a lifetime could be decades long, or end in just a few short months. Her nephew seldom asked for more than for her and Pietro to take care of Dexter. If she could extend Sean's time on earth by even a few months, she would do it. She stopped abruptly, and faced Justin. "For Iris and Mother, there was simple structural damage. Once the cells were reminded that they could regenerate, in a sense, they fixed themselves. We must be near enough to touch in order to determine if it is possible to cure him. I promise to make the attempt."

The breath he'd been holding rushed out. Justin hugged her, whispering in her ear, "That's all I ask. Thank you."

To the relief of both, they didn't have to manufacture a reason for Wanda and Sean to be alone. Justin's friend stepped out onto the deck, and slowly made his way over to them. Sean took a seat on the opposite end of the swing, putting Wanda between them.

"I spent many hours sitting in this swing, alone, and drinking beer, Wanda."

"Why is that?"

He groaned while adjusting in his seat, making the swing wobble. "Too stupid to know what I was missing at the family parties. And the General threw some humdingers."

Justin rolled to his feet. "Getting way too emotional for me. You two talk among yourselves." He took the stairs in one bound, jogged across the yard and into the house.

Sean crossed his arms. "Do you dislike me as much as your brother?"

Her fingers played with the edge of the pocket where she kept her phone. "Our birth parents died when we were ten. Until we came to live with James and Natasha, no one cared if we lived or died. If asked, many would have said they preferred the latter. This family gives their love and affection freely, unconditionally." Wanda turned sideways in her seat so she could put her hand on Sean's upper back. "We're very protective of all of them, and Pietro is not shy about stating his opinions. I do not dislike you simply because you no longer love Justin." Her free hand wrapped around Sean's where it lay on his thigh. "You are a part of what made him who he is. And because I love Justin, I could never dislike _you_."

His grip tightened on hers. "Wanda, love, you are wise beyond your years."

What Sean couldn't see was the red psionic mist flowing over his shoulders to be absorbed into his body. Through their passive link, she followed the trail of cancer throughout his body, seeking out each and every tumor.

His free hand rubbing his forehead. "Whoa. Dizzy." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The hand holding Wanda's shook. "I'm not feeling well. Would you help me into the house, please?"

"Of course." Wanda stood, and helped Sean up beside her. She slid one arm around his waist, and kept hold of his hand with the other, taking the stairs one at a time so he wouldn't fall. Halfway across the yard, he stopped, and the slightly bent posture straightened. "Would you like to lie down? You can use _my_ room. The bed is new."

"Thank you, but we're leaving soon." He let go, and walked the rest of the way on his own, though Wanda stayed close just in case. "I would like a glass of water though. Have to take a couple pills." At the back door, Sean gave Justin a smile. "I like her."

Placing an arm around Wanda's neck and pulling her close, Justin smiled affectionately. "Yeah, she's a keeper."

Sean made his way to the kitchen. Once he was out of hearing range, her nephew asked the ultimate question, "Well? How did it go?"

Instead of speaking, Wanda sent a mental message. * _I am sorry,_ _plemyannik moya_ _. The disease which is ravaging his body is far too advanced to cure. Some of the symptoms can be alleviated, but that is all_.* Taking Justin's hand, she let him feel her sorrow. * _I've taken it upon myself to remove the pain, nausea, headaches, and muscle weakness. Going forward, until the end, he will look, feel and act as if he were getting better. Unfortunately, once he goes to the doctor, convinced that a miracle has happened, he will know the truth, that it is an aberration._ *

** _Understood. Thank you for trying. And for taking care of Dexter_.**

* _Are you sure you don't want to take him with you? You've said he is the perfect traveling companion_.*

** _He is, but this trip is about Sean making up with his family. I just couldn't let him do it alone_.**

 **The Raft**

Lying on the cot, Wesley stared at the ceiling, just like he'd been doing for two ******* days. The last thing he remembered before waking up here was seeing his future go down the drain at the jail. He'd never go to college, never take over the company, and absolutely wouldn't become the high-powered executive his father was. The rest of his life would be spent in this cell. Hell, he didn't even know how he got here.

The lift arrived, and just like all the other times, he ignored the murmur of voices from the guards. Then, a familiar voice poked a hole in the unrelenting boredom.

"Get your ******* hands off me! Where _are_ we? How did I _get_ here? I _demand_ to see my lawyer! The speaker of the house is a good friend of mine. One word to him and you're _all_ out of a job!"

Wesley went to the bars so he could see the new prisoner for himself. "Hello, Father. I would've thrown a party to welcome you, but my schedule was already full." Charles Wyndham-Pierce glared, and said nothing as the two biggest guards opened the cell to Wesley's left and pushed him in.

"Do you treat _all_ prisoners this way? I'll report you to…"

The guard on the left poked him with the butt of his weapon. "I'll tell _you_ what I told your offspring: Give. It. A. _Rest_. Your money and connections mean nothing here. Not when you've paid to have your wife killed."

Though he was shocked to hear of the death of his mother in this harsh manner, Wesley kept his emotions in check, just like he'd been taught by the man in the next cell. "Let me get this straight, Dad. You're here because you hired someone to kill Mother, and got _caught_. Sounds like the tree doesn't fall far from the apple." Once again, his father didn't respond. "What was it you said a few days ago about not being stupid like Granddad? I can't quite remember."

"Yes, Charles. Do tell us _again_ how stupid your father was." Wesley's mother strutted out of the darkness, a smirk playing on her lips. "Please. I'm sure we'd all like to hear what an _idiot_ Alexander Pierce was."

"Mother!"

Margaret Wyndham-Pierce gave him a sweet smile. "Hello, Wesley dear. Learned your lesson yet?"

"My what?" Confused, he leaned back, his eyes moving from his mother to the guards to the vague shape of another person waiting in the dark.

She fiddled with her earrings, patted her hair and smoothed the front of her top inside the bomber jacket she wore over khakis, a vest, and deck shoes. The man lurking in the dark, came forward. "Why do you think you're here? Those weren't real police who interrogated you. Those men and women were part of a disgraced former government organization called SHIELD." She came to stand close to the bars. "They tricked you into confessing to a crime you didn't technically commit." A hand waved the tall man forward. "This is an old friend of mine, Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross, and he tells me that your 'confession' is inadmissible in court. When I leave, you're going with me. Your father, on the other hand, will be here for a long, long time. You see, I killed the man he sent to kill me."

Ross placed an arm around Margaret's shoulders. "It was a clear case of self-defense."

She turned to the side. "Nothing to say, Charles?" Examining her nails, Margaret continued. "At least your father's dead. _You_ are going to spend a good amount of your remaining years behind these bars." Ross tapped her on the shoulder, silently offering her a chair. She declined. "The good thing about this is now I can run the company the way I see fit, considering it was my father's before you forced him into retirement. And I can run it without you, _pumpkin_." Her scowl showed vague lines in her forehead. The Botox had to be wearing off. "Did I ever tell you how much I hate that nickname? Well, I do. And now I won't _ever_ have to hear it again." She turned to Ross. "I'm ready to go whenever you are, Thaddeus. Oh, and don't forget to let my son out."

The man's smile was meant to be charming. Wesley found it fawning and smarmy, and completely fake. "Of course not, Margaret. This way. You know, I've got a taste for Italian. Would you and your son care to stop in Rome for dinner on the way home?"

"That sounds lovely." As Ross led Margaret to the lift, she tucked her hand around his elbow. "Tell me, Thaddeus, do you know a good divorce lawyer?"

 **The Barnes Family Home**

A sensation of warmth flooded Sean's body, like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day, reaching every part of him. As it played-out, he found that the constant pain that drained his strength had diminished as well. All that remained was a lingering ache, like after a bad cramp. He was surprised to find that he could now stand upright rather than hunched from the constant nausea and muscle aches.

Still, he took the pills as prescribed by the doctors, not wanting to backslide and end up in the hospital for what little time he had left. He returned to the living room. Taking a seat at the piano, he smoothed a palm lovingly over the satin-like finish. Not once had he played an instrument this fine. It was on his bucket list though.

A knock at the front door was followed by Mia letting herself in. "Greetings and salutations, ladies and gents!" She spied Sean at the piano. He smiled and waved. Her eyes narrowed as she crossed the room to sit next to him on the bench. "Sean. Come to break my cousin's heart again?"

Without waiting for a response, Mia jumped up to greet the family, leaving Natasha for last. After a long hug, she leaned down to talk to the bump. "Hey there, little one. I'm your cousin Mia. Welcome to the family." Tilting her head, she examined Natasha's belly from several angles. "Only two months, you say?"

Natasha laughed. "Just at."

"Hmm. Didn't think you'd show for another few weeks or so."

The red-head placed both hands on her abdomen. "He or she is in a hurry."

Delegating conversation to the background, curiosity overcame Sean. He lifted the cover to examine the keys, and let it down again without giving in to the impulse to run scales just to hear the clear musical tones.

While the family discussed names for the baby, he got up, and quietly made his way over to the bathroom. He drew up short when Mia stepped in front of him, looking as if she were waiting for a train, and he were a pervert stalking the women waiting. "Justin told me about…"

He held up a hand. "Don't want or need your sympathy, Mia. We all gotta go sometime. My sell-by date is just coming up earlier than expected." She continued to watch him without blinking, unnerving him. "Something I can do for you?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. There's something of yours I want. Really only need one, but they tend to run in large groups."

"Ask away. It's not like I have any use for, well, anything." At that comment, a slow and slightly evil smile turned her frown upside down. Impatient to get into the bathroom, Sean crossed his arms, and gave her a deadpan stare, wondering what she had in mind.

"Anything? Whatever I want, you'll give it to me?"

He made an attempt to go around her, thwarted when she blocked the doorway with a hand on each jamb. The only way to get by was to move her, and he wasn't in the mood for a physical push and pull. "Yes, _anything_. You want my car? It's yours. My Gibson SG Special personally autographed by Carlos Santana?" Sean fished in his pocket and handed her a key. "It's in storage with the rest of my shit. Take it. Take _all_ of it. I warn you though, my organs are in bad shape, so I hope you don't need a transplant."

Mia took the key and tucked it into her cleavage. "Thanks. But I had something a little more personal in mind." The mischievous grin of hers that had dimmed for a moment was back. "What I want is…"

Confused, Sean waited for the punchline. She whispered her request in his ear. Beyond shocked, he blurted, " _You_ are out of your ****** _mind_?"

For the first time in forever, she touched him, laying a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye, all semblance of playfulness gone from her expression. That more than her words convinced him she was not playing a cruel prank. "This is a totally selfless request. It would mean so much if you'd do this one thing for me. I know you and I never really got along, but our personal feelings for each other don't matter." He was wavering, and she pressed her advantage. "Think of it as creating a legacy, passing the baton, helping someone who can't help themselves." Still he hesitated. "Don't _make_ me quote Mr. Spock."

Leaning close, Sean kept his voice low. "I want to, really. I do. Any other time, I'd agree just to get you to shut up. But what you're asking is a physical impossibility. It's something I haven't been able to do for longer than I care to admit." He shook his head ruefully, chuckling once. "And believe me, I've _tried_. Even had others give me a hand. No pun intended." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger to illustrate. "Nada. Zero. Zilch. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Alright? That road leads to a dead end. No detour."

Unexpectedly, Mia backed Sean up against the wall, and rubbed against him with a sultry smile. "Sure about that?" She gasped. "'Cause it doesn't _feel_ like an impossibility to me. I t feels like the road just opened up."

To his embarrassment, and the surprise of them both, considering he'd come out as gay when he was a teenager, he was now highly aroused.

"Thought you favored twigs and berries."

"I do, but occasionally I like to try other flavors. Or did." Sean grabbed Mia's hand to stop it from wandering into new territory. "Always wanted to, but never thought I'd taste this particular flavor." He gestured between the two of them.

Excitement showed in Mia's eyes. Grabbing him by the lapels, she pushed the bathroom door open with her foot, and dragged him inside before he could say another word. As the door shut, she murmured, "Just want I wanted to hear."

The lock clicked, and every thought in Sean's head vanished as a nearly forgotten imperative took control.

 **TBC**

 _Plemyannik moya_ = My nephew


	120. Chapter 120

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling Santa.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 120**

With Dexter asleep on his shoulder, Justin went down the hall to the bathroom. Even before he got there, he could hear strange noises. He knocked lightly. "Sean?" There were more sounds, as if a body was gently bumping the walls, over and over. "You okay?"

There was no answer, and Justin began to worry. He carried the kitten out to the living room where the cats were in their catio watching the family visiting on the deck. He quickly returned to knock again more urgently. "Sean?"

" _Um… I-I'll be out in a minute._ "

There was fumbling in the background. "What're you doing?"

" _I, uh, I had an accident._ "

Twisting the doorknob verified it was locked. Not really a deterrent, but he let it go for the sake of Sean's privacy. "Need help?"

More fumbling, and something fell on the bathmat with a muffled thump. " _Dammit_."

"Sure you're okay? Want your bag from the car?" Justin was hoping if he stayed long enough, Sean would open the door, and he could see for himself he was fine.

Sean groaned, and whispered under his breath, " _Shit!_ " If he didn't know better, Justin would've thought that last had been directed at him. Then the lock clicked, and the door opened no more than an inch, showing Sean sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles, and a towel wadded in his lap. "Oh, hey, Justin. No, I'm good. Great. Good. I was just…" his voice held forced cheerfulness over a sheepish half-smile, his eyes flicking away and back, as if someone were there, prompting him, "I'm… o-o-out of… bathroom tissue. Could you…"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

The door slammed in Justin's face. The lock engaged as he reached the end of the hall. Sean's voice had sounded strange, a high-pitched tone that was a sure sign he was lying, but about what? _What if Wanda's tampering had an unintended side effect and pushed him over the edge?_

~~O~~

Once Justin's footsteps faded, Sean opened the door a crack to check then closed and locked it again. "He's gone, but not for long." Sean tossed the towel in the laundry basket, and stood to pull up his pants. "Had enough?"

"Dunno." Mia watched him without shame, her expression in a full-on smirk. "We should probably do it again before you leave." That comment made him momentarily speechless. As he buckled the belt, he saw when she noticed the worn places that showed where he lost weight and had to make extra holes. Her usual expression of disdain when she looked at him was gone, replaced by genuine concern. "They're absolutely certain nothing more can be done?"

He backed away as far as he could in the small space, and faced the sink to wash his hands. "If they'd caught it sooner, maybe." He dried, adjusted the beanie, and faced Mia again, leaning his hips against the sink. "I have to give it the doctors. They did try, but," he held his hands up in an "oh, well" gesture.

Mia moved in close, and because he was standing by the sink, he had nowhere to go. He didn't know why he was feeling so aroused _now_ , when it had been over a year since his last intimate encounter that hadn't gone as planned. It hadn't gone anywhere at all. And it was as much the fact that he couldn't achieve an erection as the other symptoms that encouraged him to seek medical advice.

She put her arms around his waist, and lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Taking the comfort Mia offered, Sean wrapped his arms around her, and held on. "I know." He chuckled lightly. "Strangely enough, this, what we just did, was on my bucket list."

She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "Sex with _me_ is on your bucket list?"

He thought about lying, but it was too late for that. It was too late a lot of things. Using his most charming grin, he pulled out a piece of paper. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever say something? To me, I mean." The smile that always bordered on a smirk turned up the corners of her mouth.

"We didn't exactly hit it off like, ever. Not to mention I was living with your cousin at the time."

Leaning to the side so she could look in the mirror, Mia remarked, "Oh. Right. I don't poach in someone else's fields, no matter how much I wanna knock boots with 'em." Her expression softened again. "I'm on your bucket list for realsies?"

He handed her the list. "It's mostly a list of the people I wanted to have sex with and never did. Nearly everything else has been crossed off except…"

"Except?"

"I've always wanted to do a concert at the Kennedy Center. A _real_ concert, where the women wear evening gowns and expensive jewels, and the men are in tuxedoes. The pianist, me, would only play classical music. Chopin, Debussy, Beethoven."

For a moment, Mia tilted her head to the side, the sparkle in her eyes thoughtful. She grabbed him around the neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. Then, she was gone, closing the door with a soft click. He knew what she was doing. Justin was on his way back, and for sure they didn't want to be caught together.

Sean hot-footed it out to the patio with the rest. Wanda waved him over, offering the seat next to her. He sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and just let himself be, the voices of a loving family mixed with the sounds of nature from the field washing over him, hoping that soon, he'd get to experience the same with his own family.

Moments after he got comfortable, Wanda got up and moved, and Justin took her place, watching him, trying to figure out what was going on. Grinning to himself, Sean vowed to take what happened with Mia to the grave. Somehow, he'd gotten a second wind, sort of. The sudden onset of horniness could be the start of a miracle-it was that time of year, and made him wonder if he and Justin could be a couple again, even for a few days. He took out his phone, and created a reminder to call his medical oncologist once they'd settled in when they reached South Bend.

~~O~~

Wanda and Pietro passed out glasses of lemonade, and took their seats. Everyone turned around when the back door slammed and locked. Attached to the window was a sign: Keep out!

"What's Mia doing?" Bucky asked. He started to get up then sat down again when

Justin stood. "I'll go." He hadn't taken more than a couple steps, stopping short at Wanda's comment.

"Do not bother. Mia has a surprise planned, and we are to remain out here until she is ready."

Confused, Justin resumed his seat next to Sean. The two men shared a look. Sean shrugged, his expression saying he was just as confused as everyone else. Except maybe Wanda, who would know what everyone was thinking and feeling, whether by accident or on purpose. She excused herself, and went out to the gazebo.

Sean got up, tugged the tail of his shirt down, and went after Wanda. They sat together in the gazebo, swinging and talking, and showing each other pictures on their phones.

"Wanda likes Sean, and he likes her." Natasha slid into Sean's vacated seat. "He's not at all like James, Mia and Chase described him. Not as self-involved and brooding."

"I guess having a terminal diagnosis will do that to you." Justin held her hand. "He's sorta back to the old Sean, the one I met while jogging. The same way Steve and Gramps met Sam. It all depends on how he's feeling. One minute, we're bantering like we used to, and the next…" he mimed an explosion.

Her smile had a trace of irony. "What did he think of your grandfather and sister being married to the Black Widow and Captain America?"

"Haven't told him yet. Waiting for him to see the wedding photos."

Natasha turned serious again. "Justin, I get why you're renewing your friendship with Sean. You're no longer in love with him, but you still care. Sean, himself, still hasn't come to the final stage of grief: acceptance. From speaking to him, and from what you've told me, he's moving through the stages of anger, bargaining and depression without moving on. He's still hoping for a miracle, and when it doesn't happen…" She gripped his hand. "It may not have quite sunk in for _you_ yet that he will likely be gone soon."

Justin squeezed back. "Yes, and no. I loved him once, and I think he loved me. Now we're just two friends who are there for each other. He has family, but hasn't seen them since before we met. I looked them up out of curiosity. Not long after he left, his parents divorced. They've both remarried. He's never even met his half-sister. His brothers have never tried to get in touch with him. His mom did a few times, but he didn't respond. In Sean's eyes, his mother had sided with his dad when he was kicked out of the house."

"I'm sorry. Was it because he's gay?"

He chuckled. "He's actually bi, but no. His parents were okay with it when he told them. The big break came because his father had planned for his eldest son to go to law school, graduate with honors, and join the firm his great-grandfather had founded. After the first year, Sean knew the law wasn't for him, that music was his passion. When he told his parents he dropped out of college, his father blew up. Said to pack up and leave, and not to return until he'd come to his senses." Justin pointed his chin at Sean. "The ultimatum backfired on dear old Dad. And it was _his_ loss."

"They _all_ lost something." Justin admitted Natasha was right. "You implied that Sean changed after you moved in together."

Not wanting to talk about it, and knowing that Natasha would get it out of him eventually, Justin gave in gracefully. "In the beginning, he was fun-loving, laid-back, and passionate, with just enough angst to make him, and his songs, interesting." He rubbed a hand through the stubble on his cheek. "Little by little, the angst took over, turning to anger without reason or notice. Looking back, I suppose that should've been a sign that something was wrong, and it wasn't with us. He said the symptoms of the cancer started before he left on the tour. But because his dream was coming true, what he'd been shooting for all the years he played in dives, company picnics, mitzvas, and weddings, he ignored what was happening until it was too late."

There was a shout of triumph from the picnic table. Justin and Natasha got up to see what was going on. Pietro was sitting across from Bucky, flexing his biceps, while his father pouted.

Pietro stuck his elbow on the table. "Shall we go again?"

For an answer, Bucky did the same. The two men gripped each other's hands. "Gotta get my pride back, after being beaten two out of three by my teenage son,."

"As you already know, it will not be easy." Sean and Wanda wandered over to see what the fuss was about. He looked over at Sean. "Would you give us a countdown?"

Sean looked at Wanda, who nodded and smiled, urging him forward with a few quick words of encouragement. He placed a hand over both of theirs. "On three, one… two… three!"

He released and stepped back, bumping into Mia who had come outside without anyone noticing. Sean apologized, and Mia did the strangest thing: she swatted his backside.

The scene got weirder still when Sean did it back to her. Instead of the outrage or indignation she had always expressed toward him in the past, Mia graced him with a flirty grin, and poked him with her elbow. In response, Sean dropped his arm around her shoulders.

The family cheered on Bucky and Pietro, switching sides randomly, until Bucky was declared the winner. He stood with his arms over his head. "Yeah! I still got it!"

"Now the score is tied two for each of us, Father. We need one more to declare a winner."

Thankfully, Natasha put an end to the horseplay. "That's enough for now. Let's go back inside and…" her eyes narrowed.

Everyone turned to see where she was looking. Mia had hung a hand drawn sign over the door.

 _The John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts_

Justin came up on Mia's other side. "What's that all about?"

"It's a surprise for Sean." She looked up at him. "Earlier you said something about performing at the Kennedy Center. Best I could do on short notice."

Mia picked up a bag, unrolled the top and reached inside. "I raided Nat's jewelry case and the back of Gramps' closet. Sorry."

Chancing a glance at Natasha, Justin could see by her expression that she didn't mind at all.

His cousin was already wearing earrings and a necklace that had to cost more than Justin's car. The same with the sets she passed to Natasha and Wanda. After putting the pieces on, the women posed for approval.

Natasha looked stunning in anything, but with her red hair, the deep green of the emeralds made her eyes and skin glow. Wanda, having more olive skin tones, looked dazzling in gold and rubies.

Mia, on the other hand, and Justin hated thinking this about his cousin, had taken her hotness level from an eight up to a ten plus by wearing gold with cool purple stones that seemed to draw their light directly from the warmth of Mia's body. Of course, an evening gown would've looked better than her denim skirt, black ankle boots, and a dark grey hoodie over a grey t-shirt that said, "I love it when my music scares people". Apt, because she scared _him_ sometimes, without the music.

"And for the guys, bow ties." Mia passed each of them a bow tie, left over from when Gramps had gone through a phase just after retiring from the Army following the end of the Vietnam war. "The cats are dressed up too. I found your stash of bow ties and bows for the cats. Even Ryder has one on. In fact, he's the only one dressed appropriately for the venue."

Sean was having trouble tying his tie. Mia pushed his hands out of the way, and tied it for him. "You did all this for _me_?"

She rolled her blue Barnes eyes, and grinned. "It was either this or go get my teeth cleaned. And this is more fun." Cooperating, because it was just easier, Sean let Mia take off his jacket, and help him into a black coat that she'd pinned the sides and back in a way to make them look vaguely like tails. "Perfect. Except for that beanie. It has to go."

When she tried to take it, Sean finally put a stop her shenanigans. "Don't."

"It ruins the look of the suit, babe." Mia looked from Sean to Justin and back, and finally got it. Again, she reached for the beanie, and again, he stopped her. She gently gripped his shoulders, and looked deep into his eyes. "It's okay, Sean. Let me see. Please."

After a moment's thought, Sean reluctantly nodded. Slowly, Mia pinched the side edges between finger and thumb, and carefully lifted the cap up and off, leaving his bald head for all to see. "Oh, Sean. It's…"

"Pathetic, right? The poor sick guy lost all his hair." His tone was cynical and biting.

This time, her smile was gentle, almost affectionate. "You look amazing."

He reached for the cap. She held it out of the way, and Sean gave in with a huff. "Fine." He touched the rounded dome. "At least I don't have to worry about dandruff."

The trio noticed that they were now alone on the patio. Justin took a page from Mia's book. "I'll go inside, and let you two work it out from here."

At the back door, Justin turned around to see Mia lightly trailing her fingers over Sean's smooth head, and he was actually smiling. She straightened the front of the too big coat, and buttoned it up, while giving him last minute instructions. Shaking his head, Justin went inside and closed the door.

~~O~~

Mia took off the hoodie, and tied it around her waist. "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen," she glanced over her shoulder at the cats, "and others, welcome to the Kennedy Center. Please, allow me to introduce tonight's performer, that world renowned virtuoso, concert pianist, and three-time winner of the International Chopsticks Competition, Sean Patrick Riggs!"

As she instructed, Sean came in the back door to the pattering of applause, and strutted over to the piano. One hand on the edge, he bowed, and seated himself on the bench, first flipping his "tails" out. He wiggled his fingers, and lay them on the keys. She had left the choice of songs up to him, and knew he wouldn't disappoint.

After the first few chords, Mia recognized the song, but didn't know the name. Justin leaned over to whisper in her ear, " _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ , Mozart, played allegro."

She whispered back, " _Danke_."

"The fourth movement is considered among the most difficult pieces ever composed."

Mia brought a finger to her lips. "Sh."

~~O~~

Standing at the back door waiting for his cue, Sean used the meditation techniques he'd learned at the Jwalamukhi Devi Temple to calm his racing pulse. If his breathing got any faster, he'd hyperventilate. He didn't know why stage fright attacked him at the prospect of performing for a group of less than ten, when the last concert he headlined with Ambiguous was standing room only in a forty thousand seat amphitheater in Barcelona.

 _It's_ _not_ _the Barnes family living room. I was invited to play at the Kennedy Center. Just being asked is an honor. Tonight, I will play like I've never played before, and tomorrow, I'll be exalted by the public. Screaming hordes of fangirls and fanboys will beg for my autograph or to have a photo with taken me outside the stage door. My talents will be extolled and glorified by the elite of D.C_.

Sean lightly brushed his palms over his head. He'd only been completely bald for just over a week, and hadn't yet broken the habit of making the gesture to brush the hair out off his face, and to check that his earplugs were in place before going on stage.

"… _and three-time winner of the International Chopsticks Competition, Sean Patrick Riggs!_ "

He stood tall, chin up, chest out, and stepped into the house to enthusiastic applause. Bowing humbly, he went over the first song he'd chosen in his head. The fourth movement had nearly always tripped him up. Today, he vowed to play better than ever.

Sean flipped the makeshift tails out of the way, seated himself at the piano, placed his fingers on the keys, inhaled, and played like he'd never played before.

~~O~~

Closing his eyes and letting the melody flow around and through him, Justin recalled something that he and Sean had once talked about long into the night: why they were both so passionate about music.

They agreed that music was more than just sound. It was art with rhythm, tune, emotion, and meaning. Whether listening or playing, music provided inspiration and empowerment. It helped when you need to relax, creating a beautiful picture that conveyed something valuable and complicated. It brought forth a wealth of emotions: happiness, sorrow, spirituality. Music was made up of many parts, mathematics in the rhythm, science in the octaves and pitches, technology in the instruments, and logic in the composition.

Both had agreed that music would always be a major part of their lives, though not the most important. That place was saved for family and friends. On that last point, they'd agreed to disagree, and when Justin pushed, Sean had finally told him about the separation from his family. At that time, it had still been somewhat fresh in his mind, though it had been a while. On several occasions, Justin had encouraged him to make contact, to be the bigger man. Though he'd said he would, it hadn't happened.

Justin opened his eyes. The fourth movement was coming up, and he wanted to see Sean's face as he played. It had frustrated him to no end when he fumbled the transition.

There was a brief blip of fear in Sean's eyes then it was gone. The breath Justin hadn't realized he was holding whooshed out when Sean played flawlessly through to the end.

Sean's cheeks turned pink at the applause and whistles. He stood, and bowed. Looking not at Justin, but at Mia. From the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin smile, and nod encouragement.

"Thank you. It seems that I have a request for another performance. For this one, I will need assistance from someone in the audience." Sean's eyes swept the room, coming to a stop on Justin. "You there. What's your name?"

Going along with the charade, Justin pointed to himself with a question in in eyes. "Um, Justin."

"Well, Um, Justin, come play a duet with me."

This was Sean's big scene. Justin wanted him to have his time in the limelight, even if it was only for an audience of six humans and six cats. But he couldn't pass up this chance to play a duet with Sean one last time.

Reluctantly, Justin joined Sean at the piano. They whispered quietly going back and forth on what to play. Eventually, they agreed on a piece, and took their places.

~~O~~

With Sean sitting to Justin's left, they did a quick warm-up of scales. Sean reached over Justin to play the intro to Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp minor.

Justin bumped his shoulder. "What're you doing? This is my end."

"It didn't look like you were ready, so I started."

"Hmph." Justin reached in front of Sean to play the next set of chords. In response, Sean brushed his arms out of the way, and continued from that point, until Justin did the same.

They played like that, back and forth for several minutes, gently shoving each other out of the way. Then, Sean really got into the piece, so that when it was Justin's turn, he had to stand, and reach behind him to play.

Hearing the family laugh at their antics filled Sean with a strange feeling, a loosening of something in his chest. If he had to give it a name, he'd have to say resentment. It felt like an ice floe or the ice covering a pond melting and cracking in bright sunlight, breaking into chunks that got smaller and smaller until they were gone.

He _had_ to make it right with his parents and brothers. If not, he would be on a one-way trip to the dungeon for an eternity spent with the king of hell.

Justin played, and Sean scooted over, forcing him to get up, and walk around to the other side so he could continue. Sean did the same, until the end where they were again side by side on the bench, playing the final few chords at their own half of the piano, bringing the song to a rousing end.

This time, Justin's family stood and cheered while they took a bow. On impulse, Sean gathered Justin in a hug, and he hugged back.

The doorbell rang, and Pietro ran to answer it. He came back with three people in tow. One was Justin's sister, Joi. The others were obviously her husband and daughter.

Joi saw him, and ran to give him a hug. "Sean! It's so good to see you again. I heard you were back in town." She kept hold of one hand, smiling happily as she drew him over to the tall man and small blonde girl. "This is my husband, Steve, and our daughter, Alice. Guys, this is an old friend of Justin's, Sean."

The girl tugged on his hand, and Sean crouched to her eye level. "Hi, Alice. I love your hair."

"Thank you. Mom did it for me." She put out her arms, and Sean picked her up. "Why don't you have any hair?"

He carried her over to the piano, and sat on the bench. Playing had worn out most of his new-found strength. "It's because I didn't do my homework when I was in school." Alice gasped and touched her blonde hair protectively. "I'm kidding. It just fell out. I hear you love cats and kittens. Dexter's visiting for a few days. Did you know that?"

Alice's eyes lit up with excitement. "He is?" She slid off his lap, and ran to Bucky. "Papa! Can I see Dexter? Please?"

Wanda came to her side. "Of course you can, Alice. Come with me."

The two girls went into the catio and closed the door, so the cats couldn't get out. Mia came to his side, looking all smug, as usual. "That was fun."

"Yes, it was." Sean held her hand. "Thank you. It made my day."

She tugged, and Sean willingly went with her to the shelf with all the photos. Some, he remembered from before, though he hadn't been interested enough to pay much attention.

"Here's Nat and Gramps on their wedding day," Mia told him, pointing out a photo next to one of another married couple. Looking closer, he realized it was Joi and Steve. Mia saw, and put it in his hands. "Both couples eloped at the same time, and somehow ended up in the same chapel." She nodded at another photo of both couples together. The women were standing in the middle, with Steve and Bucky on either side. Something about it seemed familiar, though he'd never seen it before.

"They make a couple of cute couples."

Moving on, Mia led him through the last several months of the Barnes family life, ending with one at Disney World, of Wanda, Pietro, Natasha, Bucky, and another man with a beard, who looked vaguely familiar. "Who's that?"

"Him? Oh, that's Tony Stark." She turned so their backs were to the rest of the room, keeping her voice low. "How you feeling, really? Think you can go one more time?"

Sean grinned at Mia. "I think I have one more in me. Maybe two. We can't go in the bathroom this time. What about the upstairs one?"

She was already shaking her head. "Won't work. In the den, you can hear everything that goes on in there. That's how the kids got grounded a few weeks back." Mia's eyes lit up. "But you can't hear what's going on in the den from the upstairs bathroom."

"So…" he asked.

"So-o, we can go in the den." As always, that smirk was there. "If last time was the norm, this won't take long. Unless we go a couple of times."

He chanced a quick glance over his shoulder. No one was paying them any mind. "If everyone's here, how do we get in without being seen?"

"You got me there. What about the back seat of Justin's car? The rear seat folds down. We won't have to stand up this time."

One last look over his shoulder, and he nodded. "The keys are on the hall table. You go, and I'll meet you in a few."

Mia sauntered over to Natasha. They spoke quietly then Mia went out the front door, scooping up Justin's keys on the way, and dropping them in her pocket.

Justin took Mia's place. "They look happy, don't they?"

"Yes, they do. I…" Sean was about to ask Justin if they could at least pretend to be a couple while visiting his parents, but changed his mind. No more lies. That was a promise he'd made to himself. "I'm gonna go outside for some air. Not used to so much togetherness."

Justin held up his phone. "Call if you need anything."

Sean exchanged the coat Mia made him wear for his, and made his way around the side of the house, and across the street. Checking that no one had followed, or was looking out the front windows, he went around to the side facing away from the house, opened the back door, and stopped cold.

Mia was on her back across the folded down back seat, lying on a blanket, with another draped over her torso. The legs below and shoulders above were bare telling him that she was completely naked. She'd already turned out the light, so no one would see them. He quickly undressed, tossing his clothes on the floor next to hers.

Sean climbed inside, and shut the door. Unseen by either of them, a pair of bright purple panties fell into the grass.

 **TBC**

Jwalamukhi Devi Temple:

Jwalamukhi is a famous temple to the goddess Jwalamukhi, the deity of flaming face. Raja Bhumi Chand Katoch of Kangra, a great devotee of goddess Durga, dreamt of the sacred place and the Raja set people to find out the whereabouts of the site. The site was traced, and the Raja built a temple at that location. The building is modern with a gilt dome and pinnacles, and possesses a beautiful folding door of silver plates. Under the gaze of the Dhauladhar range and set amidst the undulating hills that character sub-Himalayan Himachal Sati's tongue is believed to have fallen at Jwalamukhi and the goddess is manifest as tiny flames that burn a flawless blue through fissures in the age-old rock.

The temple located on a small spur on the Dharamsala-Shimla road at a distance of about 20 km from the Jwalamukhi Road Railway Station attracts hundreds of thousands of pilgrims every year. No idol is located in the temple and the deity is worshipped in the form of flames which come out from the crevices of the rock. There is a small platform in front of the temple and a (check usage) big mandap where a huge brass bell presented by the King of Nepal is hung. Usually milk and water are offered and the ahutis or oblations are offered to the sacred flames in the pit, situated in the center of the temple in between the floor pillars supporting the roof.

The deity is offered Bhog of Rabri or thickened milk, Misri or candy, seasonal fruits, milk. There is a mystic Yantra or diagram of the goddess, which is covered with, shawls, ornaments and mantras are recited. The puja has different 'phases' and goes on practically the whole day. Aarti is performed five times in the day, havan is performed once daily and portions of Durga Saptasati are recited. The temple is closed from 11:30am to 12:30pm for Aarti. The Mughal Emperor Akbar once tried to extinguish the flames by covering them with an iron disk and even channelizing water to them. But the flames blasted all these efforts. Akbar then presented a golden parasol (chattar) at the shrine. However, his cynicism at the power of devi caused the gold to debase into another metal which is still unknown to the world. His belief in the deity was all the more strengthened after this incident. Thousands of pilgrims visit the shrine round the year to satisfy their spiritual urge.

Maharaja Ranjit Singh paid a visit to the temple in 1815, and the dome of the temple was gold-plated by him. Just a few feet above the Jwalamukhi temple there is a six-feet deep pit with a circumference of about three-feet. At the bottom of this pit there is another small pit about one and a half feet deep with hot water bubbling all the time.

The temple is identified as one among the 52 Shakti Peethas. It is also one of the most renowned temples of Goddess Durga.

 _Eine kleine Nachtmusik_ (Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major), K. 525, is a 1787 composition for a chamber ensemble by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The German title means "a little serenade," though it is often rendered more literally but less accurately as "a little night music". The work is written for an ensemble of two violins, viola, and cello with optional double bass, but is often performed by string orchestras. The version in this chapter is for piano only.

Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp minor, S.244/2, is the second in a set of 19 Hungarian Rhapsodies by composer Franz Liszt, and is by far the most famous of the set.

In both the original piano solo form and in the orchestrated version, this composition has enjoyed widespread use in animated cartoons. Its themes have also served as the basis of several popular songs.


	121. Chapter 121

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 121**

Holding the blanket in front of her, Mia boldly watched Sean get dressed. "Stop smiling, or Justin will know something's up."

"This is the first time I've had sex in over a _year_. I _can't_ stop smiling. Besides, he's clueless." He pulled his t-shirt on, tugging it down over his bare torso. "You know, if I'd known heterosexual sex could be so much fun, I'd have done it more often."

Grinning proudly, Mia did up the front of his pants. "For someone who's supposed to be gay, you sure know your way around the female anatomy. Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue?"

He winked and grinned. "Self-taught."

"You almost made me forget why we were doing this."

"Ditto." His grin faded, became serious. "You're absolutely sure about this?" Sean shook out the camisole she wore in place of a bra, holding so she could put her head and arms into it.

"One hundred percent. Because you're the only one, you'll get all the glory when my plan comes to fruition."

Unsure what to say about her plan, Sean handed her the denim skirt. "Why didn't we get along this well before I was dying? But without the sex."

His serious tone made her even sadder that he would be gone soon, and wouldn't be there to share in the grand finale. "Truth is I thought Justin was out of your league." Sean tugged the hem of her skirt down in front, looking up sharply when she added, "Now I know I was wrong."

"Thanks for, you know, everything. The sex, and the rest of it." Sean laid his hand on her exposed thigh. Not as a precursor for more sex, but to get her attention, and to feel her smooth, warm skin one more time. "For a long time, I couldn't perform sexually, not even on my own, though the doctors said there was no reason I shouldn't be able to…"

"Get it up?"

He touched a finger to his nose, and they both chuckled. "The shrink said it was because my subconscious wouldn't allow me to perform what is essentially a life-affirming act. My best guess is that Mr. Annoying Subconscious and the little voice in my head, who never shuts up, took what you said as a challenge."

"And came through with flying colors, Sean. Too bad you can't teach that tongue thing to the men _and_ women who don't know what they're doing."

Sean snorted while tying his shoes. "Some secrets are too good to share." Mia handed him his shirt, and helped him put it on. "I'm literally taking it to the grave."

"Personal question, if that's okay."

"Considering how we just spent the last hour, I'd say you're entitled." He adjusted the beanie. "Hit me."

Mia scooted closer, stopping his hands, and forcing him to look at her. "Now that you're able to…"

"Get it up?"

They laughed together. "Do you plan on sleeping with Justin?"

Inhaling, and exhaling to give the idea a quick think, Sean shook his head. "No. That ship sailed a long time ago. Besides, he has someone."

"Rey. They're so in love, it's sickening." Mia averted her eyes, so he wouldn't read what was in them. "Hopefully, they'll get back together soon. Justin just has some bad vibes to deal with first."

"Humph. Don't we all?"

~~O~~

"Stop," Mia directed Sean. "It's crooked."

Sean looked down, and sighed. "It's too dark to see."

She removed his hands, and did the job herself. "A likely story. You just want my hands all over you again."

His lopsided grin made a dimple on one side. "That's a _perk_. According to the doctors, one of the experimental treatments caused a reduction of night vision as a side effect. Permanent."

"And here I thought you were staring at my naked body to imprint the image in your memory."

"That too." Sean straightened his shirt that she'd buttoned for him. "Thanks." He grabbed one of her boots, and she turned in the seat, holding her foot out so he could put it on. "Should've asked this before, though, technically, it wouldn't be considered cheating." He adjusted her sock, put the boot on, and tied the laces. "You seeing anyone?"

Mia reached for her jacket, and pulled a small mirror from the pocket. "Sort of. We're on a break."

"A lot of that going around. What's his name?"

"Falcon," she murmured while checking her hair.

Sean picked up the other boot, and Mia switched feet. "You're dating a guy named after a _bird_?"

She brought out a tube of gloss, speaking while smoothing it over her lips as if she didn't have a care in the world. Same old Mia. "That's his superhero name. His real name is Sam Wilson."

Both names in his head at the same time sparked a memory. "Wait! Isn't the Falcon one of the Avengers?"

"Yeah." She puckered her lips, using a finger to wipe a bit of gloss from the corner of her mouth.

"You're dating an _Avenger_?"

The mirror lowered, her eyes meeting his over the top. "Don't tell me you didn't recognize Joi's husband or Nat."

Confused, Sean squinted in the dark, knowing she would be able to see him perfectly. "Um, no?"

Shaking her head, Mia took out her phone, accessed the photos, and handed it to him. "Gramps is married to the Black Widow, and Joi is married to…"

Like being struck by lightning, he got it. "Joi is married to Steve _Rogers_? As in Captain America? And Natasha is… Oh, ****!"

Mia laughed at his WTF expression, and held his hand. "Yes."

"Oh, man." He dug in his pants, and handed her a sheet of paper. "They're _both_ on my sex bucket list."

"Hey. _I'm_ higher on the list than Avengers? Cool." She moved the stuff on the floor around, searching for something. "Steve's door doesn't swing that way, even if he wasn't married. Natasha, on the other hand, might've gone along with it, if she wasn't married and expecting." Giving up, she leaned past him to open the door facing the field. "Let's get out of here before we're caught _in flagrante delicto_."

"We're fully dressed, and we're just talking." Sean snorted at his little joke. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

" _Not_ fully dressed, 'cause I can't find my panties." Mia sniffed the air. "And we both smell like sex."

Sean got out, and turned with his hands extended to help Mia slide across the seat. He stumbled when she bumped him getting out, and quickly wrapped her arms around his chest to keep them both from falling. "Whoa. I'm good. Let's find those unmentionables." They searched the ground, but didn't find them. "Crap. If they're still in the car and Justin finds them, I'll just say they're mine." Mia laughed, and he did too, in spite of the fact that he'd never been a cross dresser. "There's a bottle of air freshener in the back."

He opened the hatch, and took out the bottle. Mia snatched it from him, and went to spray the inside of the car. She came back and gave each of them a quick spritz. "Mmm. Baby fresh."

"Don't forget your…"

"Oh, right." Mia opened the back door, reached in for a small insulated bag, and shoved it in the pocket of her jacket. At his side, she offered her elbow. "May I have the privilege of escorting you back to the house, Mr. Riggs?"

Getting into the spirit of the night, Sean tucked his hand around her arm. "It would be my pleasure, Ms. Barnes."

The front door opened as they reached the steps. Justin looked from one to the other. "I know those looks. What're you two up to?"

"Nothing that concerns you, cuz." She pushed past Justin into the house.

Over Justin's shoulder, Sean saw her put the keys back on the table by the stairs. He stepped inside, and Justin quickly shut the front door before Archie could escape. "We should get going. Ready to pull out, Sean?" Sean and Mia's eyes met, and they burst out laughing to the point they had to sit on the stairs. Justin shook his head, and walked away. "Gramps! Nat! We're leaving!"

Sean jumped up to go with him. Now that he knew who Natasha and Steve were, he had to meet them one more time. _I can't believe I didn't recognize them. OMG! I got to play for them! Okay, pal. Don't go fanboy all over them_. He smiled amiably as they came into sight.

 **Nicole and Gracie's Apartment**

Whenever her mother had guests, Gracie stayed in her room out of the way, and tried not to make too much noise. She was going out, and whoever was babysitting would come get her. Later, they would have a snack.

Gracie was nearly done with the page she was coloring when there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

She already knew who it was before she opened the door. She came in, and went down on one knee next to her. "How you doing, kiddo? Your mom said you were sick the other day."

"Mommy keeps checking on me, and taking my temperature. I told her I'm okay, but she still does it."

"She's your _mom_. It's her job to worry about you. Just do what Papa says."

Gracie giggled as if Papa had kissed her on the neck. "Grin and bear it." She put down the crayon and picked up another. "How long will Mommy be gone?"

"Just a couple of hours, honey." Her hand rubbed down her arm. "We can do whatever you want. It's too late to go to the park, but we've got games and television. We can sing, dance, read. You choose." She was quiet for a few seconds then said just one word. "Bindlestiff."

She laughed. "That's a funny word!"

"It means a hobo or tamp who carries their belongings in a bundle. Now they call them homeless, though some are doing it voluntarily. Now you can tell your friends at school that you know a cool word they don't."

"Wait'll Eyona hears it. She'll laugh _so_ hard!"

At the door, she turned with a smile. "Come out when you're ready."

"Okay, Aunt Carolyn." The door closed. Gracie put her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm. "Bindlestiff. Bindlestiff. Bindlestiff." She giggled again. "Eyona is gonna freak when I tell her about the new word I learned."

 **On the Road**

 **Destination: South Bend, Indiana**

At the light a few blocks from the entrance ramp to the 270 west, Justin watched Sean from the corner of his eye. He was slumped down in the seat, the beanie covering his eyes, arms crossed, and a stupid grin on his face.

Sean sniffed the air, and sat up. He took the beanie off and put it back on. "I smell coffee. Let's get some before we get on the road. Something to snack on too. I'm _starving_."

Without a word, Justin pulled into the Java Junction, parking near the entrance so Sean wouldn't have far to walk. "Sure your stomach can handle caffeine?"

As Sean walked past him into the shop, he poked Justin in the chest. "Right now, I feel like I could fly."

"What's _with_ you, Sean? You're acting like you just got laid or something." They got in line behind a man wearing a dark blue pea coat, a burgundy turtleneck sweater, black skinny jeans, and brown suede slip-on boots. His hair was bleached with black roots. As a whole, it wasn't a good look for anyone, especially this guy. "Want your usual?"

"Hell no. I'm going all the way. A pumpkin hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, and a slice of pumpkin bread. We can share." He pointed out the bathroom, and was gone.

Justin hit something with his foot. He looked down, and found a folded sheet of paper with Sean's handwriting. He picked up and dropped it in his jacket pocket.

At the register, he made his order, and went to a table to wait. Sean joined him a few minutes later, and Justin was happy to see he now had some color in his cheeks.

The young man who took the order also brought it to the table. He dropped a folded napkin in front of Justin, and flashed a coy smile as he returned to his station behind the counter. Without looking, he knew the boy had written his phone number on the napkin. To discourage him, Justin held up his left hand, his thumb touching the ring finger, and pointed at Sean. Though it was bare, the boy got the idea. _I'm taken_. He finished off his drink, wrapped their snack in a napkin, and stood. "Let's go. I wanna make Pittsburgh before we stop." His companion stood, reminding him of the paper he found. "Here. You dropped this."

"Thanks." Sean took the page, unfolding it as he went to the register to borrow a pen. He passed the pen back, and returned, reading as he went. "One more thing crossed off my bucket list. Well, one list."

"You have more than one?"

A snort came out of his friend. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Justin snatched the paper from him, scanning down the page. "Not many left, and most of them are easy. We can knock 'em out easy." He flipped it over, realizing too late that this one wasn't typical. "A _sex_ bucket list? Seriously?" He pointed. "This one's just someone's initials. Who's MB?" Then all the clues he'd gathered regarding Sean and Mia's odd behavior came together in his head. "MB is Mia Barnes. You had _sex_ with my _cousin_?!"

Justin's voice rose at the end, drawing the attention of the staff and patrons. Grabbing Sean's arm, he dragged him out to the car, using the fob to unlock the doors.

Grinning, Sean repossessed his property. "Yeah. Gave me four out of five stars."

Under his breath, Justin muttered, "He had _sex_ with _Mia_." Out loud, he said, "Fine. I'll pretend it doesn't creep me out that my cousin and I have had sex with the same person. So, why not five? I mean, most of the time, _I_ would've given you a five."

They got in the car, and buckled up before Sean responded. "I left teeth marks on…"

Justin turned the radio on, and kicked the volume up until he could no longer hear what he was saying. A few minutes passed then Sean turned the music off. "You asked, I told."

When he tried to turn the radio on again, Sean stopped him. Growling in frustration, Justin gave in. "That is _way_ too much information about either of you, so, we're going to pretend we didn't have this conversation."

Sean rolled his eyes and huffed. "We didn't _do_ it for pleasure, or just to cross something off my list. Well, not the first time. Or the other two times, really. There was more to it than sating a physical need."

"Then why?" he asked, knowing the answer would creep him out even more.

Before Justin finished speaking, Sean was shaking his head. "Can't say. It's a secret." He turned off the radio. "Let's talk about Sean and Justin's excellent road trip adventure. Why Pittsburgh?"

Relieved, Justin finally relaxed, his wrist on the steering wheel. "It's the halfway point. We'll arrive about midnight, stay the night in a hotel so you can rest, and finish the trip tomorrow." He shot a glance at Sean, glad to see the goofy grin was gone. "If you need to stop, just let me know."

"I will, as long as, when you're ready, we talk about that elephant."

He signaled and got into the left lane, bumping his speed up another ten miles per hour. "When we get to the hotel."

Sean leaned the seat back a few inches, tuned the radio to a station offering soothing jazz, and looked out the window.

 **Sugarbush Bed & Breakfast**

 **Export, Pennsylvania**

A sharp noise woke Sean from a dream replaying the fight with his father that caused the estrangement. Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, he sat up and looked around. Justin was gone, and the car was parked in front of a quaint white building that looked like a Victorian mansion, with window boxes, ruffled curtains, and rocking chairs on the wrap-around porch. He got out to stretch, spotting Justin coming down the stairs while shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

"Looks who's awake. You better sleep tonight."

The stress of the trip in general, coupled with Mia and he getting frisky had taken a toll on his energy reserves. Once his head hit the pillow, he would be out like a light. "How long was I asleep?"

"Since just after we crossed into Pennsylvania." He opened the back, and took out their bags. "We're on the second floor, but there's an elevator. This place caters to families, so we have a room with two double beds." As they passed the sign, Sean snickered. He opened his mouth to make a comment, and Justin beat him to it. "I swear to _God_ , Sean, if you say one ******* _word_ that has anything to do with any member of my family, I will leave you on the side of the road with all your shit, and a sign that says, 'Free to good home'!"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Sean followed Justin into the lobby, taking in the décor, and trying not to vomit. Everywhere he looked, there were flowers. On the chairs, sofa, wallpaper, carpet, and in vases. It all matched, yet it didn't. He scratched his stomach through the material of his shirt. Whispering so he wouldn't be heard by the owners or staff, he leaned close to Justin. "I'm developing an allergy to chintz. Was the designer colorblind, or stupid?"

"It's just for one night." He called for the elevator, and they got on.

~~O~~

In the room, Sean stood in the middle, turning in a circle. "Not much better in here." He picked up his bag, set it in a chair, and opened the zipper to take out his pajamas and travel kit. "Tell me again why we're not at a Holiday Inn, Doubletree, or God forbid, Quality Inn."

"There's some sort of festival going on. Everywhere else was booked. We only got this room due to a last-minute cancellation." He too pulled out pajamas, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.

"Let me get changed, and we'll have that talk."

Justin turned away from the bathroom door. After Sean had fallen asleep in the car, he wished that he'd forget about this, but no such luck. He never forgot anything. The gift and curse of an eidetic memory. The gift, of course, was not needing sheet music in front of him to perform a piece. The curse was remembering everything that had ever happened to him, good and bad, and could quote date, time, who was present, and weather conditions.

The bathroom door opened. Sean came out, and Justin went in. Getting ready for bed didn't take long. He wanted to get this over with before Sean fell asleep, because it would only prolong the torture.

He took a deep breath, and returned to the bedroom to find Sean had taken the bed closest to the bathroom, propped against the headboard with pillows. "I'm ready when you are."

Justin sat on the arm of an ugly embroidered chair with doilies over the back and on the arms. "You want the short or long version?"

"Somewhere in the middle. Before you start, tell me one thing: _are_ you the Winter Soldier?"

In an attempt introduce levity into the situation, Justin held up an imaginary lightsaber. "I'm a Jedi!" He made a few swings, making whooshing noises while dispatching unseen enemies. Sean didn't laugh.

Getting up to pace, Justin sorted all the facts, separating them from guesswork that Gramps had conformed or disproved, adding in the parts about Steve, and was finally ready. "In 1944, my grandfather was captured by the Red Skull's men…"

"What does that have to do with…"

Putting a hand up stopped Sean. "Believe me, it's relevant. I'm going to tell you things about my family that only a select few have the clearance to know, the missions Steve and Gramps went on, and a bunch of other stuff that's still classified to this day." He started again. "The Red Skull was the head of the Nazi science division with the rank of Obergruppenführer." Justin wielded his invisible lightsaber. "That's sort of a stormtrooper." He continued pacing. "He was in partnership with a man by the name of Arnim Zola, a Swiss scientist. They both worked for HYDRA. In all, they captured more than eight hundred soldiers within a two-week period. Gramps was one of them.

"He was at their compound, locked in a cage like all the rest, when the guards came for him. Zola had been attempting to recreate the serum that transformed Steve into Captain America. They took him to a lab where he was strapped to a table, and this asshole Zola used him, and the others, to test the serum." Hot anger rose inside Justin for something that happened over seventy years ago. He took a breath to calm down. Sean went to the mini-bar, turning with two bottles of root beer. Justin gratefully accepted. He took a long drink, and continued. "Thankfully, Gramps survived. Steve rescued him, and a few months later, he saved Gramps again when he almost fell from a speeding train while the Howling Commandoes were on a raid to capture Zola. Not long after, Steve ditched the Red Skull's plane in the North Atlantic to save New York."

"How does this relate to the Winter Soldier?"

"I'm getting to that. Before Steve rescued him, in addition to the injections, Gramps was subjected to intense hypnosis and brainwashing that implanted a set of trigger words into his subconscious. Later, they simplified the process down a single phrase."

"And that was?"

Shaking his head, Justin laughed without humor. "Do you want to see the wolf?"

Sean opened and closed his mouth. He let out a long breath, and climbed back into bed. "I don't want to know. Go on."

"After the war, Gramps came home, married Grams, and started a family. He retired in '76 with the rank of General following a long and distinguished military career." The last of the cold drink flowed down his throat, and he sat in the armchair, rolling the bottle between his hands. "What no one knew was that Gramps lead a secret life even _he_ didn't know about, working as an assassin for HYDRA. That is, until he met a devastatingly beautiful redhead by the name of Natasha Romanoff."

For once, Sean kept quiet during the lull while Justin gathered his thoughts. "Skip ahead to approximately four years ago when another member of the Barnes family came under the HYDRA spell." He pointed both thumbs at himself. "Not sure exactly when or how it began. The same shrink that kept Gramps in check began conditioning me to take his place."

"Why you?"

Justin walked to the window to look out. Not much to see this time of night. Just trees, and a corner of the parking lot. "This is second hand info, so don't quote me. HYDRA discovered that Gramps and I have similar DNA, and because of it, the methods they used on him worked on me. That way, they didn't have to make too many changes to the serum or their brainwashing techniques, allowing them to use what they hand on hand, with a few minor tweaks. So, I guess the answer to your question is yes, and no."

Sean's hands fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "I often wondered where you went in the middle of the night. Thought maybe you had an emergency at the club or a family thing. But then, you never mentioned it, and the one time I asked, you had no idea what I was talking about."

"That's because I didn't. Oh, and all those trips to Vancouver? Never happened. Those days were spent in a HYDRA facility where the doctors did who-knows-what to me." He turned around, pacing back to the middle of the room. "There's more. It's not pretty, and it's going to be a shock, so be prepared."

Stilling his hands on the blanket, Sean watched him take off the long sleeved t-shirt he wore to bed and toss it on the chair. Reaching around to the back of his left shoulder, Justin carefully unsealed the synthetic skin Tony Stark had created, peeling it like a banana until the metal was exposed. With the flesh-colored skin, it was easy to forget that he'd been purposely maimed by a secret Nazi organization. He flexed the hand, feeling the power surge through the limb, and slowly faced Sean again, letting him get a good look.

~~O~~

Sean's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. The overhead light glinted off the polished metal, and when Justin flexed his bicep, the plates in his forearm moved, startling him.

Uneasy with the scrutiny, Justin replaced the covering, and put his shirt on. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't ask some of the questions I know you have, like the names of the people I…"

"That you killed?" Sean tossed back the covers, slid off the side of the bed, and slowly approached Justin. "You think I'll see you differently, afraid to be around you. That I won't understand the remorse you feel about what they made you do, or run screaming from the room, and call the cops."

Justin wouldn't look at him. "Something like that."

Papers rustled as Sean took them from under his pillow, holding them where he could see. "Is this part of it?"

He looked down, taking them as he faced Sean once more. "Where d'you get these?"

"Doesn't matter, because I don't read whatever language this is."

"I thought I was writing in English." Shuffling through the yellow sheets torn from a legal pad, Justin shook still wouldn't look him in the eye. "Over the years of hypnosis and brainwashing, I was taught Russian. No one noticed that I could suddenly speak another language… except Natasha. She's from what used to be called Stalingrad. And yes. It's a list of the people I killed, incomplete because there are gaps in my memory."

Sean grabbed Justin's left wrist and shook him. "Look at me. Justin! Look at me." His long hair fell away from his face as his eyes slowly came up to meet Sean's. With the other hand, he swept the papers to the floor. "I don't care about _any_ of that. You asked why I came back, and I brushed you off. You assumed it was to say my final good-byes. That's partly true." It was time to tell it like it is. "Yes, I needed to see you again, to apologize for how I treated you while we were together, and to say good-bye." This time, Sean dropped his eyes and turned away, letting go of Justin's wrist. "But the main reason I came back was… I still love you. I know I didn't say it as often as I should have. We also should've spent more time together. But I was so focused on my ******* career, I couldn't see anything else."

Neither said a word for a long time. Then Justin's hands came to rest on his shoulders, exerting pressure in opposite direction so that Sean was forced to turn. He moved closer, and took Sean in his arms, just holding him tight. "I still love you too."

"Small L. You're not _in love_ with me. You're in love with a guy named Ray." Sean chuckled against the side of Justin's neck. "I see it every time you say his name."

He was startled by Justin's laughter. They parted, and his ex-boyfriend scooped his phone from the small table between the chairs. "Since we're having this introspective discussion, let me tell you about Rey. I'll even show you a picture."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Washington, D.C.**

 **Earlier that Night**

The wind picked up, sending the feels-like temps plunging, signaling a cold front coming through. The breeze blew loose objects around without regard to their origin. Leaves, paper, plastic bottles. And one pair of bright purple panties that ended up snagged in the bushes next to the front door of the Barnes home with a willfulness that made it appear sentient and mischievous at the same time, considering how they ended up being blown around in the first place. That, or the wind had a dirty mind and was playing a prank on someone inside the home.

The front door opened, and a teenage boy with silver hair came out. He walked to the mailbox, sorting the mail as he came back. At the door, movement in the bushes caught his attention just as the wind sent the panties flying through the air.

Using his super-speed, he caught them before they disappeared, and brought them inside to throw in the trash.

His niece, Mia was coming out of the kitchen at the same time. "Whatcha got there, uncle?"

He held them up to read the printing on the back. His eyes widened, and his eyebrows rose. "Found them in the bushes. How does a girl lose her underpants outside?"

Unconcerned, Mia kept scrolling her phone without looking up. "Probably came off someone's clothes line. You should throw 'em out. No tellin' where they've been."

Pietro opened the cabinet where they kept the trashcan, so the cats wouldn't get into it, and shoved them deep inside. He closed the door, and went to the sink to wash his hands. "How long will you be staying?"

"Dunno. At least till after dinner. Told Nat I'd cook so she can rest. Why?"

"What do you know about the American government and economics?"

~~O~~

"You're in luck, uncle, 'cause I passed both with a perfect score." Mia lifted her chin in the general direction of Pietro's bedroom. "Go get your computer, and we'll study while dinner's cooking."

As soon as her uncle was out of sight, Mia rushed to the trash, and pulled out the panties. She took a zippered plastic bag from the drawer to her left, dropped the panties in, and sealed the top. The bag was crushed in her hand when a voice spoke behind her. She'd thought she was alone.

"Mia? What are you doing?"

She looked down at the panties and back to Natasha. "I, uh…" Sighing in resignation, Mia shoved the bag in a pocket. "They're… mine. Pietro found them in the front yard. Pretty sure you don't want to know why I'm commando under my skirt."

Natasha's unblinking stare made her jumpy. Something she seldom was. After a couple of false starts, Mia cleared her throat, and opened her mouth, leaving it open at Natasha's quip. "You lost them while you were having sex with Sean."

 **TBC**


	122. Chapter 122

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 122**

Sitting on the foot of bed next to Justin, Sean held his phone, examining the photo of an athletic woman with long dark hair, holding a long-haired black cat. "Ray's a cross dresser? In the process of gender reassignment?"

Justin laughed. "Neither. Her name's Rey, R-e-y. She's _all_ woman and always has been."

Sean passed the phone back. "She's hot. And way too good for you." He meant the jib as a joke, but Justin took it as an insult. No, it was more than that.

His affectionate smile turned to hurt. He jumped up, making the bed bounce, powered down the phone, and plugged it into the charger on the table between the beds. "We, uh, should get to sleep. There's a long drive in the morning." His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he were holding tight to his emotions.

"Justin, what's wrong? Is it what I said about her being too good for you?" Sean was ignored as his companion pulled the covers down, took off his watch, and laid it next to the phone. "I was joking." Sean clambered over the bed, stopping Justin by grabbing his wrist. "Talk to me."

He jerked free, and went to the foot of the bed. It was the action of a man who had to move, or go out of his mind. "The last time we were together, she sent me away. Said we couldn't be a couple until I loved myself again." Rubbing the back of his head, Justin moved over to the window. "They say you can't love someone unless you love yourself _first_." He held up his left hand. "Because of this and the things they made me do, I haven't loved myself for a long time." His chest expanded and contracted in a deep breath. "But Rey… I love her so much that I sometimes forget what hating myself feels like." He turned around, resting his hips against the window sill, right hand gripping the edge. "Then, it all comes back to me, a-and, I just know I'll never see her again."

Watching Justin's face as he spoke about Rey, Sean kicked himself for the joke. Justin tried to hide it, but a sniff gave him away. "Are you crying?"

Justin pushed off the window sill, making it as far as the bathroom door before Sean stopped him. He still wouldn't look up. "You really do love her, don't you?"

Keeping his head down, Justin nodded. "I-I've tried to do as she wanted, but…" he finally turned around. "Whenever I think it's within my reach… Turns out you can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town."

~~O~~

"Sometimes, I feel as if I'm going mad. If it weren't for Dexter and my family…" Justin cut himself off, wishing he could make Sean understand. He looked up when Sean opened the mini-bar.

"We need a drink."

Justin opened the bathroom door, and grabbed a tissue to blow his nose. He washed his hands, and carried out two paper cups. "If you get sick, I'm not cleaning it up."

Sean shrugged, and handed him a small bottle of clear liquid. "Then you have the Stoli, and I'll have the ginger ale."

They drank, and though he was immune to the alcohol's effects, it made him feel a little better. Sean took his empty bottle, and threw it in the trash. Then, he held out his hand, and Justin wrapped his fingers around it, careful not to squeeze too tight. Sean led him to the bed, and lifted the covers. "Bedtime."

Justin laid down. Sean tucked the sheet and blanket up around his chest, and turned out the lamp. Tucking one hand under his head, Justin gave up a small smile of genuine affection. "Thought _I_ was supposed to be taking care of _you_."

"We all need to be taken care of now and then. Now go to sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Pressing her lips together, and willing herself not to blush, Mia's shoulders sagged. "I should know by now that nothing gets by you, Nat." The plastic bag went into her jacket pocket. "How did you know?"

Natasha crossed her arms, and leaned against the counter. "Same way I knew that you and Wanda weren't really testing each other's skills the night James was injured. It's what I do." She put out her hand. Reluctantly, Mia put the plastic bag in her hand, and followed her to the laundry room where she put the panties in with a load of delicates, and started the washer. "What I don't know is _why_ you were fighting."

"My lips are sealed." The women returned to the kitchen. "And Sean?"

Her smile was just short of a smirk. "Several reasons." She ticked them off on her fingers. "To help him cross something off his bucket list, and to give a dying man one last thrill. To cross something off _your_ bucket list."

"And?"

Natasha held both her hands. "The real reason for your little romp with Sean, and I think it's sweet that you want to do it. Have you talked to them about it?"

"Wanted it to be a surprise for Christmas." Mia crossed her fingers. "That way, they can't talk me out of it, or turn me down flat. I _want_ to do this. They deserve it."

"Then nothing I can say will change your mind. Be prepared to live with the consequences, just in case it's not something they want."

Mia got a pan from under the sink, filled it with milk, and put it on the stove to heat while Natasha got out cups, spoons, and the hot chocolate mix. "I don't think they will, but if they do, then I'm ready to deal with the responsibility of my actions."

She stirred the milk, looking down at Natasha when she slipped her arm around Mia's waist, and gave her a hug. "I know. Needed to hear you say it." Natasha hiccupped, covered her mouth with her hand, and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

"You can do this, Barnes," Mia reminded herself while spooning the hot chocolate mix into cups. She poured in the hot milk, stirring each cup until mixed, and setting it on a tray. A bag of marshmallows and a tin of cookies joined the rest. Mia went into the hall near the bathroom, and as she suspected, Pietro was standing outside the door, whispering what sounded like words of encouragement to his mother in their mutual language. If anything, the boy was even more solicitous of Natasha than Gramps. Or it just seemed that way. She recalled when Gramps first told everyone they were expecting his level of excitement was way above hers. Mia guessed that it was her personality, that she seldom let her emotions run high. If what she read, and experienced with her aunts, uncles, and cousins, that would be changing soon.

Mia went into the hall. "Uncle, would you give me a hand?"

The bathroom door opened, and Natasha stood in the doorway holding a tissue in one hand. She gave him a nod, and he came with her to the kitchen. "I will be happy to help, niece."

He carried the tray out to the dining room, setting it on the table, and calling out, "Hot chocolate and cookies!"

Natasha came out, and seated herself at the table. Before Mia could move, Pietro had a cup in front of his mother with two cookies on a paper plate. Natasha smiled up at him, giving his hand a squeeze, and Mia watched the boy's heart melt. Someday, she wanted that for herself. However, it would have to wait. There were other, more important issues than _her_ wants and needs.

The doorbell rang, and Wanda ran to answer it. She came back with an Asian girl in tow. Mia liked her immediately, because of how she was dressed. Black skinny pants tucked into black boots with buckles, a white long-sleeved top with a laced bodice that emphasized her narrow waist, a fringed scarf in bright red, and a black longcoat that hung past her knees, reminding Mia of an anime character. Her hair reflected the colors of her clothing, long and black, with red streaks, and matching eye shadow. Black leather gloves gave her the look of a spy about to get involved in a high-speed chase.

Wanda had already changed into red and black plaid flannel shirt over a long-sleeved t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and her favorite black ankle boots. She a dark grey coat hung over her arm.

"Everyone, this is my friend Xiaoli."

Together the family called out, "Hi, Xiaoli!"

"Xiao, you remember my parents."

The girl waved. "Hey, parental units. Congrats on the new baby."

Taking Xiaoli by the hand, she turned her to face the others. "This is my niece Joi, her husband Steve, and their daughter Alice. And my niece Mia." To Natasha and Gramps, she said, "We are going out to eat and to a movie, if you don't mind."

Bucky dropped marshmallows in his cup and gave it a vigorous stir. "That's fine, baby girl. Don't stay out too late."

Again, Xiaoli spoke up. "No prob, Mr. and Ms. B. We're celebrating my part-time job at the Subs and Soups over on Parkside and Minter. I work the dinner shift, so my days of stayin' out late are mostly over."

"Congrats to you too," Natasha added. Mia would've gone to speak to her, but Wanda was already pushing her friend toward the door.

Two steps inside the living room, they stopped. Wanda again held the other girl's hand, turning them together. She took a deep breath, and let it out, her hazel eyes darting over the faces of her family. Another inhale, and the girl blurted out, "Xiaoli's my girlfriend. We're going on a date."

Mia saw their body language, and had it all figured out within a couple of minutes. Peeking at Gramps and Natasha's faces, she wasn't surprised to see them smiling. Natasha busied herself breaking off a piece of a cookie. "Yes, _moya lyubov_. We know. Have a good time." She handed her cup to Pietro. "Could I have another, my son?"

He took the cup from her with a smile. " _Da, mama_."

The front door slammed, and they were alone again. Mia picked up a cookie, and said to no one in particular, "She seems nice."

~~O~~

"Um, I've been wonderin' something since we left the house." She picked up her wallet and shoved it in her coat pocket. "That Steve guy… Is he Captain America?"

Wanda unbuckled her seat belt, and opened the door. "He is married to my niece. That makes him a nephew by marriage. He is my father's best friend, so Steve is also my uncle."

The doors locked as Xiaoli and Wanda met at the back of the car. "Girl, you have one messed up family."

 **On the Road Again**

 **I-80 Westbound**

 **The Next Morning**

Two hours into the drive, Justin pulled into a truck stop in a nowhere town twenty miles south of Cleveland, so Sean could use the bathroom, and stretch his legs.

He bought drinks, and picked up souvenirs for the kids, just as he had at all their other stops. While Sean was out of the way, Justin made a phone call. "Hi. You don't know me. My name is Justin Lockwood… I'm a friend of Sean's… He wouldn't tell you this himself, but I think it's your right to know…"

~~O~~

Justin put the phone away, and handed his friend a bottle of ginger ale. "Before we go, Sean, um… Where did you and Mia…"

Sean laughed at his pained expression. "First time was the downstairs bathroom. You almost caught us." Sorry he brought it up, Justin got out his keys, hoping Sean would take the hint and shut up, but no such luck. He kept on talking. "The second, um…"

Justin's eyes followed Sean's to the car, his jaw dropping at the realization. "You did it in my _car_?!"

He popped the hatch, and took out a spray bottle of disinfectant. Sean stopped him with hand on his arm. "We didn't do it on the seats."

"Oh, well that's a relief."

He put the bottle back, and Sean added, "It was too cold for that. We used the blankets." Heaving a disgusted sigh, Justin reached into the hatch again, and brought out a firestarter. "What's that for?"

"To burn those ******* blankets!"

Sean stopped him again. "Don't."

"Why not?" Justin was ticked off, and not afraid to show it.

One side of Sean's mouth turned up in a semi-smirk. "They have an incinerator in the back." He pointed out the huge device, only the corner of which could be seen.

Holding onto his temper with difficulty, Justin reached into the back seat for the blankets, carried them to the incinerator, and shoved them in through the access. He looked down at his hands, shuddering. "Shit. Now I need another shower."

He settled for using the hand sanitizer in the glove compartment. On the road again, Justin came to a decision. "For the sake of my sanity, and so I can look Mia in the eye without thinking about, you know, let's never mention it again."

"Whatever gets you through the day, Beeb."

He could've made a smartass remark about the nickname they'd both agreed to retire, but he didn't. They got back on the highway, and Justin bumped his speed up. As they reached the Indiana border, he'd had enough silence. "Nothing to say about last night?"

"Oodles and oodles."

Justin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and cleared his throat. "Did you just say 'oodles'?"

Sean turned sideways in his seat as far as the seatbelt would allow. "You left out a lot of details. If you didn't remember who you were, how did you make it back? Did it have something to do with the terrorist attack downtown? Why is it one minute you're the old Justin, fun-loving, outgoing, uber-charming. The next, you're pushing me away as if I had the plague. Cancer isn't contagious, though it can be hereditary. There's more. Let's start with those."

Chuckling without humor, Justin glanced at Sean and back to the road. "The first part is an even longer story. I-uh, don't mean to put distance between us. It was such a shock having you show up on my doorstep out of the blue. Because of what I had been turned into, once I remembered who I was, I feared for those around me, especially my family and friends. I became a recluse, not for myself, but for the safety of _others_. Even headed out of town a bunch of times, but couldn't completely let go. Found a place to hole up, even took to spying on everyone, to make sure they were doing okay. The first one to catch me was," he shook his head, smiling at the memory, "Rey. She thought I was a stalker."

Sean snickered. "You kinda were."

"Then, one day, a construction company set up shop at my hideout. That meant I had to find a new place to live. I was still on the fence about leaving town, yet somehow, I found myself at Rey's. She let me stay in her spare room. The owner of the construction company hired me on, and for a while, it felt like I could be me again. One night, Rey and I were having an argument, I forget what it was about, and the next thing I know, we're in her bedroom…" He shrugged one shoulder sheepishly. "Like I told Chase, being with Rey made me feel as if all the monstrous things that had been done to me, and that I'd done, it all just," he fluttered a hand, "floated away. And when the nightmares hit, she knew what to do to help me get through."

Justin looked over at Sean. He was listening raptly, his face in that attitude of "let's hear the story before I decide how I feel about it", giving him the courage to continue. "Chase found out I was staying with Rey, and bugged the shit out of me, wanting the family to know I wasn't dead. It happened, eventually. The same night that Gramps and Nat introduced the family to Wanda and Pietro." This time, his laughter was genuine. "They looked like deers in headlights that day."

"To be fair, the Barnes family can be a little overwhelming. They're all so freakin' _happy_ all the time. It's disgusting to us brooding, moody types."

"They got used to it." Justin's phone beeped to let him know he'd gotten a text. He powered up the phone.

"Bad news?"

"Not sure." For a moment, Justin had forgotten that Sean was with him. "I'll message them later."

 **Rey's Condo**

Sitting at the table so she'd have plenty of room to work, Rey scrolled the blueprint on her screen, turning it a full three-sixty to get a sense of how it would look. Cleopatra sat on her left, su-purr-vising, meaning she was watching the work being done, and purring up a storm. "What d'you think, Cleo? No blue and pink pastels for _our_ baby. Only bright, happy colors."

"R-r-reow."

The cat pawed her free hand. "What?" She meowed more forcefully. "Right. I promised to call before Thanksgiving." The phone was pushed closer by a wet nose. "Okay. I'll text him to call me."

Rey tapped out the message, and hit send before she could change her mind. "There. Happy now?"

Cleopatra nose-booped Rey, and got an ear and neck scratch in response. "Let's pick out names. Hmm… if it's a boy… Papa's name was Tomas, and I like the name James, so Thomas James. We can call him TJ." Cleopatra seemed to like it. "Now for a girl… Mama's name was Rocio." Rey sighed as she got up to get another cup of tea. "As much as that detective annoyed me, Cleo, I like the name Paloma. We'll call her Poppy."

"Reow."

"I'll take that as agreement." Rey knocked on the counter. "It's official. Thomas James or Rocio Paloma Medina. I'm the only one left, so this baby will carry on the Medina family name. Later, if he or she wants, they can change it to baby-daddy's name." The phone beeped, and she rushed to read the response.

 **Justin's Car**

 **Several Hours Later**

Justin parked in front of a single-story brick home with a two-car garage, and a long driveway. The trees in the front yard only had a few orange and brown leaves. There were two unremarkable four-door sedans in the driveway, and a bicycle next to the side door.

The two men got out, retrieved their bags, and stood together, Justin waiting for Sean to get the ball rolling. The front door opened, and a young girl with light brown hair in a ponytail, watched them for a moment. Then, she stepped out, and closed the door.

Sean's breathing sped up as the girl walked across the yard, kicking the leaves, stopping a double arm's length away. She looked from Sean to Justin and back. "I'm Zoe. You're my brother, Sean."

"Half-brother, yes. It's good to finally meet you, Zoe."

"Mom and Dad told me you were coming." She moved closer. "Mom said she's never seen Dad so excited about anything since I was born." Zoe completed the trip, looking up into Sean's face. He went down on one knee so they were eye to eye. "Dad said you're in a band. He has all your CDs, and plays them all the time."

Sean put on a mock glare. "Is that the truth, Zoe, or are you prankin' me?"

"True. The last time I got caught lying, Mom took my iPad and video games away for a whole _week_!"

A cough to his left reminded Sean that Justin was there. "That long? It must've been some lie." He stood, and placed a hand on Justin's shoulder. "This is my friend, Justin."

"Hi, Zoe."

The girl's eyes were grey, and wide with curiosity. "Hi. I don't like being called a half anything. I'm Sean's _sister_. My parents said he was bringing his boyfriend. Is that you?"

Both men chuckled, and Justin responded. "Sean needed someone to drive him. I'm just a friend."

"Okay. Mom's making dinner. Wanna come in?"

"We do." Zoe led the way, and they followed. Sean looked at Justin, and he looked back with a shrug.

Inside, the house was warm and inviting. The opposite of the exterior. Zoe pointed to a door in the foyer. "You can put your stuff in there." Without waiting for them to respond, she turned around, and shouted, "Mom! Dad! They're here!"

A fortyish woman with brown hair sprinkled with silver strands came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, smiling a welcome. She was average height for a woman, on the zaftig side, and bubbly.

At the same time, an older man came from a long hallway to the left. He halted in his tracks when he saw Sean then rushed forward to take him in his arms, hugging him tight. "My son! I can't believe you're finally here."

Sean and Justin exchanged puzzled looks over the man's shoulder. This sure wasn't the welcome they'd expected.

~~O~~

Sean blinked to keep tears from falling. "I can't believe it either, Dad." He didn't want to discourage one of the few gestures of affection he'd gotten from his father, but Sean needed to breathe. He pushed gently, and the older man let go. "I might not be here now, if it weren't for Justin."

Zoe moved into the conversation. "That's Justin. He's not Sean's boyfriend like you said."

To get Justin going, Sean winked at him with a small smirk, and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, honey. Now why would you say that?" Justin rolled his eyes. Then, something occurred to Sean. "Dad, how did you know we were coming?"

His dad looked from one to the other, eyebrows drawn down in confusion. The woman stepped forward. "Don't you worry 'bout that now, boys. Come have a seat. My name's Leanne, by the way." Everyone followed Leanne into the living room, and found seats. "We're _so_ glad you're here, Sean. Joe never stops talking about his rock star son." It wasn't necessary for Sean or Justin to contribute more than a few words to the conversation. Leanne had it all in hand. He heard that's how it was with southern women. The accent made him think about warm, summer evenings spent sitting on the porch, waving to the neighbors as they walked or drove by, your belly full of grits, fried green tomatoes, and buttermilk biscuits.

"On our first date, why, he went on and on. Then just last year, we took a holiday in Barcelona at the same time Ambiguous was there. Zoe bugged us to take her, and truthfully, it wasn't a hard sale. She tells everyone that you're her brother, but naturally, no one believes her." A bell rang, and she jumped to her feet, talking as she returned to the kitchen. "Gotta check on dinner. I hope you boys are hungry, 'cause we're havin' my award winnin' seafood gumbo over rice. The reason it's award winnin' is 'cause I make my own crab boil instead of usin' store-bought. Won't be a minute!"

Leanne's voice faded out as she pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Sean looked at Justin, who was looking back. At the same time, they looked at Sean's dad, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

Sean pointed in the direction his step-mother had gone, a question in his eyes, and on his lips. "Since _when_ do you go by Joe, Dad?"

~~O~~

The older man leaned back in his chair, rested an ankle on the opposite knee, and rubbed his ear. "Since Leanne won't call me anything else." Zoe was perched on the arm of his chair. He nudged her. "We'll be eating soon, Zoe. Put Bear outside, please."

The girl ran down the hall, and a door slammed in her wake. Sean was still trying to think of something to keep the conversation going when hot breath hit him on the side of the head. Her turned to look, and came face to face with one of the biggest dogs he'd ever seen. Rearing back, he said, "What the he-e-heck is _that_? A wooly mammoth?"

Zoe laughed. "No, silly. He's a _dog_."

"What in God's name do you feed him? Miracle Grow?"

The girl hugged the dog around the neck. He was so big his head came up past her shoulders. "His name's Bear, and he's a St. Bernard. We got him when he was a puppy."

Leanne breezed into the room. "Let me show you boys to your room." She waited while they went to the foyer and followed her down the long hallway. "I know you're not a couple, but we only got the one guest room. There's twin beds for when Joe's grandkids visit. They're not old enough quite yet, being babies and all, but we just couldn't resist fixin' it up for 'em."

"Um, grandkids?"

His step-mother heaved an exasperated sigh. "I plum forgot you haven't been around. Vinnie got married to a sweet girl by the name of Emma, and they have a daughter, Charlotte, who's three and a half. Jessie and his girlfriend, Amanda had a boy, Austin, who's gonna be two in January."

She bustled around the room opened the closet doors, and drawing the curtains so they could see out into the back yard, where Bear was running around, chasing squirrels.

The room itself was average size, with a walk-in closet, a vanity, chest of drawers, and a small desk near the window. The bedspreads were what might be expected in a room designed for kids. Not that either man cared. A warm bed was all they needed. Who cared if the bed linens had Winnie the Pooh, and My Little Pony?

"I'm so relieved those boys didn't give their children any of those weird names like we hear celebrities are doin'." She went to the door. "Bathroom's down the hall on the right. Clean towels in the linen closet next to it. If you need shampoo, toothpaste, anything like that, it's in there too."

Before the door closed, Sean grabbed it. "Leanne, I gotta ask. How did you and my father meet? You're not what I expected at all."

"Meetin' Joe was, I guess you could call it a twist o' fate. I went to his office to see my attorney, but he'd gotten stuck in a long deposition. Joe was so sweet, offerin' to help me out. Afterwards, bein' the demur southern girl my mama raised me to be, I asked him out for coffee." She smiled, and held her hands up. "And ta-dah! We've been married now for goin' on twelve years. Dinner'll be ready soon, so come on out after you've freshened up."

The door clicked shut. Sean pulled out the bag that held all his medications, opened it, and took out his pre-dinner pills. Without a word to Justin, he went down the hall to the bathroom, and closed the door. Leaning on the edge of the sink, he thought over everything he'd ever known about his father. Only Justin could've told him they were coming, and he wanted to be angry with him, but couldn't muster the energy.

He grabbed a cup from the stack on the counter, filled it with water from the tap, and used it to swallow the pills. He used the toilet, washed his hands, and just before stepping out, removed the beanie. On the way to the dining room, he tossed it on his bed, and closed the door. He stopped at the entrance to the living room, listening to Justin regaling Zoe with a funny story that only had a small element of truth in it. Shaking his head, Sean wandered into the kitchen to see if Leanne needed help, and she sent him to set the table.

 **Dinner Time**

"Tell me, Justin, how did you and Sean meet?" Leanne asked as she passed the salad.

Justin smiled when Sean kicked him under the table in warning. "I'm afraid we didn't tell Zoe the truth earlier. We _used_ to be a couple, but now we're just friends." He filled a small bowl with the baby greens, added tomatoes, and passed it to Sean. "I used to go running in the park down the street from my condo…"

 **Five Years Ago**

 **Washington D.C.**

As Justin rounded the curve, he kept a sharp eye out for the guy he'd seen on his last run. There he was, just up ahead. For a change, it was just the two of them. Normally, he wasn't adverse to making the first move. However, with this guy, he got the sense that he preferred to do the chasing.

To make sure he was seen, Justin sped up, murmuring, "On your left" as he passed. The only problem was now he couldn't tell if he was interested. At the next curve, he stopped to stretch, and swallow some cold water, hoping the guy would stop to talk. Though he waited longer than necessary, he didn't see him again.

The same thing happened two days later, and the following week. What was _with_ this guy? Couldn't he take a hint? At the club that night, Justin got an idea, and in the morning, he'd put his plan into action.

 **The Next Morning**

 **On the Running Trail**

Running usually built up Sean's stamina, but lately, it hadn't had the same effect. _I need something different_ , he thought as he hit the straightaway that ran along the Potomac. The sound of rubber slapping on the pavement announced another runner coming up behind him, and he smiled to himself upon hearing the familiar, "On your left".

 _Nice ass. Too bad he won't stop and_ … Sean's musings ended when he saw the back of his shirt.

 _Follow me to Tunnel Vision_

 _Live entertainment Friday and Saturday_

 _Dollar drafts 6pm - 8pm Tuesday – Thursday_

 _Come join us!_

With his eidetic memory, Sean didn't have a problem remembering the phone number and address. He'd given the guy more than a few chances to introduce himself, and he hadn't. Social awkwardness could account for it. "Guess I gotta make the first move."

 **That Night**

Sean did one last hair and clothes check before letting himself in though Tunnel Vision's front door after being vetted by the bouncer. He scanned the room, taking in the dining area to the left, the bar, dance floor, and piano to the right. A hallway at the near end of the bar led to a private banquet room. "Nice place. Wonder what his job is."

He didn't have to wait long because he found him sitting at the piano, playing and singing.

 _You keep playing where you shouldn't be playing_

 _And you keep thinking that you'll never get burnt, hah!_

 _Well, I've just found me a brand-new box of matches, yeah_

 _And what he knows you ain't had time to learn_

"Everybody!" Those within earshot joined their voices with his.

 _These boots are made for walking_

 _And that's just what they'll do_

 _One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you._

 _Are you ready, boots?_

 _Start walkin'_

Sean accepted a beer from the bartender. "Not shy."

Applause followed his slam-bang finish, and Sean watched him go to the opposite end of the bar, hitch one hip onto a chair, and reach over the counter for a bottle of water. Making a circuit of the dance floor, Sean slid into the chair next to him, sipped his beer, and leaned over to whisper, "On your left."

 **TBC**

"These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" is a hit song written by Lee Hazlewood and recorded by Nancy Sinatra in February 1966.


	123. Chapter 123

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

 **Warning:** Parts of this chapter are not suitable for anyone under the age of 21.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 123**

 **Present Day**

 **South Bend, Indiana**

"…We talked for a while, and made a date for the following week." Sean finished the story about his and Justin's first meeting. As if they'd never been apart, they bounced the telling from one to the other.

Zoe, who had insisted on sitting on the end with Sean and Justin on either side, chewed thoughtfully, wiped her mouth, and reached for her drink. "Where'd you go?"

Sean eyed Justin when he coughed, and looked down at his plate as if it were the most interesting thing he'd seen in his life. The food was a little spicy for Sean's stomach, so he was taking his time, and eating mostly salad, hoping Leanne wouldn't notice. "A place called Kingston Street Pub. We had dinner, and afterwards, we got up on stage to sing a duet."

"What song?"

"'Up Where We Belong'. It was the first time we sang together, and we got a standing ovation," he told her with obvious pride.

The girl's eyes showed excitement without betraying the emotion in her voice, reminding Sean of his dad. "That's cool. What else did you do?"

Justin helped himself to a small second helping of the gumbo with extra rice. "We went for a stroll along the Anacostia River Boardwalk." He tapped Sean with his foot, and winked at Zoe. "We held hands, but didn't kiss."

Her eyes widened, and included a jaw-drop, as if Justin had said something highly uncouth. "Why _not_?"

Sean leaned close. "It was our first date," he reminded her in a stage whisper. "I didn't want him to think I was _easy_." To his surprise, Leanne and Joe laughed at the look on her face. "Wanted to get to know each other first. That, little sister, is the important part of any relationship."

She thought that over, nodding sagely while her mother picked up the dishes, talking as she walked around the table. "That's enough questions, Zoe. Now, I hope you boys saved room for dessert. You got your pick of sweet potato pie, or Mississippi mud brownies."

"Award-winning?" Justin asked.

Though her back was to them, Sean could sense Leanne's smile. "Naturally."

A coughing fit hit Sean. To draw attention from it, Justin wiped his mouth, and stood. "Let me give you a hand, Leanne. I'll even wash."

"Oh, well aren't you the sweetest thing." Her tone was slightly sarcastic, and Sean didn't miss the pointed stare she shot her husband. "Not like some around here."

Leaning forward, after a glance over his shoulder, Joe grinned at Sean. "It's a thing with us. Every time I try to help with the dishes, she tells me I'm doing them wrong."

From the kitchen, Leanne's voice called out, "That's 'cause you do them wrong every time!"

Sean held his breath, letting it out in relief at his father's soft comment.

"Your mother said the same thing, Sean. Until I married Karen, I didn't know there was a wrong way to put milk back in the refrigerator. Didn't like the way I washed dishes, folded clothes, or how I completed a dozen other household chores. Then she complained I never helped around the house."

"And you had Vinnie, Jessie, and I do the yard work every weekend. Didn't leave much for you to do." Sean couldn't help the resentment that colored his tone.

To his surprise, Joe didn't rise to the bait. One side of his mouth turned up in that "gotcha" smirk. "Why do you think we had kids in the first place?"

Leanne's voice came from the kitchen again. "Very funny, Henny Youngman. Now, come take out the trash 'fore Bear gets into it."

With a sigh, Joe tossed his napkin on the table. "Excuse me, kids. My lady calls."

 **The Rogers Condo**

 **That Same Night**

"Don't look at my cards," Joi admonished Steve and Alice as she ran to answer the front door. She opened it, surprised to see Mia, hands shoved in her pockets, and looking less self-assured than usual. "Mia. Come in."

"Sorry to just drop by like this."

Steve joined them. "It's okay. We're just playing a game."

Alice pushed her way between her parents to wrap her arms around Mia's waist. "We're moving into our new house next week!"

The girl's excitement made Mia smile. "That's fantastic! Let's have a party to celebrate."

"Not _just_ a party, Mia," Joi echoed. "The closing is happening faster than we thought. We'll be all moved in and everything ready in plenty of time to host Thanksgiving dinner."

They group moved into the living room, and Mia took a seat in the chair across from the sofa. "Too bad Justin's going to miss it. You inviting Chase's girlfriend and her brother?"

"Natch. They're family too." Mia slanted her eyes at Alice and back to Joi with a slight head nod. She took the hint. "Alice, sweetie, go brush your teeth, and get your pjs on."

Alice jumped up from the floor, and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, making the women wince. Steve just grinned sheepishly. "Guess she takes after me."

"More than you know," Joi murmured under her breath. Out loud, she directed the next comment to Mia. "Okay, cuz. We're alone. It's not like you to show up unannounced. What's going on?"

Crossing her legs, Mia clasped her hands together, and held onto the top knee. "I have a solution to one of your dilemmas."

Steve shifted in his seat next to Joi. They exchanged puzzled glances. "Which dilemma?"

Mia got up, and paced over to the fireplace, examining the photos and tchotchkes, bits and pieces of their life together. She faced Joi and Steve. "I'm offering my services."

Joi's eyebrows curled down over her nose. "As what? A babysitter?"

A snort of laughter came out just as there was another knock on the door. "You're half right."

Steve stood. "Hold that thought." He returned with another unannounced visitor.

"Mia." The newcomer was obviously surprised to see her there.

Oh, how she missed that smooth as silk voice, and smoldering gaze. Smiling happily, they moved toward each other, and Mia put herself into his arms. "Sam."

~~O~~

Having Mia in his arms again felt like… Sam watched Steve and Joi discreetly tiptoe into the kitchen and close the door. "I've missed you."

"Me too." Mia leaned back to look into his face. "You know why I'm here."

"That's why I came looking for you. Before you tell them, I wanted you to know… I've been an idiot. Going forward, you have my full support. However many times you want to do it, we'll do this together."

Her smile was worth all the pain they'd endured being apart. "What changed your mind?"

Taking Mia's hand, Sam led her to the sofa. "The other day, someone asked me where home was, and I almost said your name." Her fingers tightened on his. "Most people expect you to say the name of a place, but Mia, I've felt more at home with you than I ever did in my stuffy apartment."

The other hand lightly caressed the side of his neck. "You gotta stop doing that, Sam."

"What?"

Both hands came up to frame his face. "Saying things that make me want to kiss you."

Before the last word was out of her mouth, Sam kissed her, not parting until Steve cleared his throat. Joi stood at his side. "You two done?"

Mia smirked. "For now." Sam kept hold of her hand, letting her draw strength from their touch. "I have a proposition for you."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

 **That Night**

One of the times Leanne had disappeared, she'd obviously been in the guest room. The beds were turned down, bottles of water were on the nightstand between them, and the drapes had been closed. She'd also exchanged the kids' comforters for super-soft blankets. A night light had been stuck in the plug near the door, and bathrobes lay on the foot of the beds.

Justin and Sean didn't have even a moment alone when Leanne breezed in the door. "If you boys need anything durin' the night, why you just help yourselves. There's plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen, and books and magazines in the den. That door to the left of the front door is what we call the entertainment room. All kinds of games, exercise equipment, a television, Blue-ray player, lots of videos, a piano, a couple o' guitars, and so forth. We'd appreciate you keepin' the volume down, and not playin' long into the night though. Joe's taken the rest of the week off. However, I still got work to do."

Sean sat on the side of the bed holding his travel kit. "What is it you do, Leanne?"

His step-mother fluffed pillows and fussed with the covers. "Well, before I moved up here to Yankee territory, my husband and I ran a bed and breakfast in Spanish Fort, Alabama, across the bay from Mobile."

As before, Leanne kept up a steady stream of words without seeming to take a breath.

"It was somethin' we'd been talkin' about since before we got married. And when the hurricane hit, I forget what year, we got lucky, and only had some floodin' on the first floor. Insurance took care of it." She picked up Justin's bag, opened the zipper, took his shirts out, and hung them on the left side in the closet, her voice echoing slightly. His discarded shoes, she set just inside the closet door. Before he could stop her, she'd taken his socks and boxers out, plopped them on the dresser, folding as she talked. "He had to handle it all himself for a couple o' weeks while I stayed with my momma, who had fallen and hurt her back. Regrettably for him, I come home a couple o' days early and caught him," she snapped her fingers, trying to remember, "What do they call it?"

" _In flagrante delicto_?" Sean provided, barely able to contain his laughter.

"Yes, that's it."

Behind her back, Justin shrugged a question at Sean. But when he opened his mouth, Justin frantically waved him silent.

"That's it." Leanne moved on to Sean's bags. "So I _falgrante_ 'd his _delicto_ right into divorce court. He begged me not to ruin his standin' in the community, him bein' the mayor and all, by broadcastin' the real reason for the divorce, so we filed under irreconcilable differences, with the provision that he buy me out o' the business at double its worth."

"Mom?"

Zoe's voice was soft enough that Leanne didn't appear to hear her. "On a trip to gather the tattered remains o' my pride-at least that's what I let people think-I took a road trip all by lonesome, and when I got to Indiana, I realized that North of the Mason-Dixon Line was sorely in need o' some good ol' southern cookin' to keep 'em warm all through the long, cold winters, so I opened up a little restaurant here in South Bend."

" _Mom_?"

"And wouldn't you know, it was so popular, I opened up another, and another. And now I got four restaurants in Indiana and Illinois." She pushed the drawer shut after mating all of Sean's socks, and turned toward her daughter, standing in the hall with on hand on Bear's neck. "You're supposed to be brushing your teeth, young lady."

Taking that as an invitation to join them, Zoe and Bear stepped into the room. "I _did_."

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

"Bear was whining, so I took him out. Now, he won't come to bed." She looked at Sean with the same unreadable expression as their father. "He wants to sleep with Sean."

Startled, Sean pointed at himself. "Me? Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe he knows you need him more than I do right now."

To Justin, Zoe had just proven that she understood more than he, Sean, or her parents thought. She knew Sean was sick, though it hadn't been mentioned since their arrival. Not even obliquely.

Leanne's ever-present smile faltered. "Do you boys mind? I should point out that, if you say no, Bear will whine and cry until he gets his way."

Answering for both of them, Justin waved for the girl and dog to come all the way into the room. "Happy to have him. We'll leave the door cracked so he can get out."

As if she suddenly realized she'd overstayed her welcome, Leanne went to the door. "Time to say good night, Zoe."

The girl smiled at him. "'Night, Justin."

"Good night, Zoe."

Then, she went to Sean for a long hug. "Good night, Sean."

They left, pulling the door most of the way closed. Bear sat in front of Sean, panting. He gave in and rubbed his neck. When Leanne was out of earshot, Justin exclaimed, "Wow."

Sean snorted. "Yeah. I'm exhausted just watching her." His eyes seemed to be looking off into the distance. "There's no doubt she's had a positive influence on Dad. Well, good night."

Justin lay down, and pulled the covers up to his chest while Sean did the same. Taking that as his cue, Bear jumped onto the bed, and flopped down at his feet. Speculating about what would happen in the coming days was futile, so Justin just switched out the light, rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes.

 **The Rogers Condo**

Long after Mia and Sam had gone, and Alice was asleep, Joi and Steve talked over Mia's proposal. Steve sat on the side of the bed watching Joi pace. They didn't have to read each other's minds to know what the other was thinking. "You want to do it."

"Only if you do."

She raised her arms, and let them fall, slapping against her thighs. "I don't know _what_ I want. We've talked about it, without coming to an agreement on the timing."

He grabbed her hand before she could start moving again. "Surprises are a part of life's journey, babe. Like finding Alice, this is one of the good ones."

Joi let Steve pull her between his knees so he could hug her, resting his head against her chest. He did that when he wanted to listen to her heartbeat. She enjoyed it too, this being close. Turning, she sat on one knee. "I agree. What did you think of the qualifier?"

"You can't fault her reasoning. It's something we can live with."

Both his arms went around her waist, and her hand toyed with the short hairs at his nape. "Me too. So, we're going to do this?"

"I think we are. Even Sam's on board."

Joi slid off Steve's lap, grabbed her pajamas, and went to the bathroom door. "The lease on her apartment is up soon. She's been looking, but hasn't found anything yet. I'd like to ask her to move in, at least until…"

"We'll have to work fast to get the house in order."

Clutching her pajamas, Joi marveled at the way their life was changing. "The family will help. We can ask Clint to do any repairs or renovations. Nat's sure he'll pitch in."

"I'll call the real estate agent in the morning. See if she can speed things up a little."

"And I'll call Mia to let her know it's a go."

Joi closed the bathroom door, and leaned against it. She took a deep breath, and let it out. Yes, life was good.

 **Bruce's Lab**

 **The Next Morning**

Walking around the hologrid with a pen clamped in his teeth, Bruce examined the information as it was transmitted to the tablet in his hand. Every few seconds, he would stop the flow to make a notation. "That's enough, Jarvis."

The multicolored lights that skimmed over Natasha's form cut off. At Bruce's gesture, she stepped off the grid. "What's the verdict, doc?"

Instead of answering her directly, Bruce aimed his words at the ceiling. "Are you seeing the same thing I am, Jarvis?"

" _Indeed I am, sir. Shall I run the scan again?_ "

"That won't be necessary."

Bruce completed another circle, coming to a stop in front of Natasha. "Come on, Bruce. Talk to me. According to everything I've read, I shouldn't be showing yet. Not this much." She indicated her expanding abdomen. "Is there a problem with the baby?"

He rushed to ease the fear in her voice. "No, nothing like that. I can only speculate at this point."

"So," Natasha sat in a chair, and crossed her knees, "speculate."

Pulling another chair over, Bruce scooted next to Natasha so she could see the tablet. "By all counts, you're just over eight weeks along. However, according to this scan, and we're talking textbook averages here, the baby is presenting as if he or she were twelve to thirteen weeks. That's where the speculation comes in. It's possible that the baby's rapid gestation could be linked to your husband's rapid healing ability."

"And that means?"

"If we go by this scan, and the speed of growth doesn't change, your baby will most likely be born closer to the end of March, beginning of April, rather than July."

Stunned, all Natasha could say was, "Oh."

" _There is an additional physical imperative that should be addressed, Dr. Banner_."

Without acknowledging the AI, Bruce swiped the screen hard to the right, sending the info to the monitor hanging from the ceiling.

Natasha poked him in the ribs. "Bruce?"

"Without further testing, I wouldn't be able to say for sure why, but according to Jarvis, there's a real possibility that you may not be able to breastfeed."

She exhaled loudly, and dropped into the chair again. "As complications go, Big Guy, that one is easily remedied."

He smiled fondly at her. "Most women would be in tears."

"I'm not most women."

"Agreed. The benefits of breastfeeding are that it's a way for mother and child to bond. Mother's milk contains antibodies that help the child fight off viruses and bacteria. It lowers the risk of asthma and allergies, and plays a role in preventing SIDS."

"Believe me, there will be plenty of bonding going on with this baby." She shifted in her seat. "When will you be able to tell the gender?"

Bruce chuckled. "Now."

"James wants to be surprised, but I can't wait." Her green eyes were filled with excitement and expectation. "Boy or girl?"

 **Oasis Oncology Clinic**

 **The Office of Dr. David Illingworth**

 **Two Days Later**

The door opened, and Sean was met by a nurse in dark green scrubs. "Sean Riggs."

She led him to an exam room. "The doctor will be right with you."

The door closing sounded louder than it was, as if the nurse were dealing the final blow to his hopes. That wasn't possible, was it? For the last few days, Sean had felt more like his old self. He still tired easily, and got the occasional dizzy spell, but all said, he felt better than he had in months.

His phone rang with an incoming text from Justin, demanding to know why he'd take the car, and when he'd be back. For now, Sean ignored him. He shoved the phone in the pocket of his jacket just as there was a light tap on the door. "Come in."

The doctor was six feet, and a little on the chubby side, with fleshy folds along the jawline, creases in place of dimples, and dark, naturally tanned skin. His glasses were black and plain. Under his lab coat, he wore blue scrubs. He carried a tablet in one hand, which he laid on the counter, exchanging it for the laptop. "Dr. Millhouse and I were college roommates back in the day. When he asked me to do a rush on your tests, I was glad to do it."

"What were the results?" Sean crossed his arms in annoyance, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

Dr. Illingworth leaned back in his chair, and sighed. Sean recognized that sound, and the look on his face. He'd seen it a lot over the last year.

"I'm sorry, Sean. There's been no change. Your prognosis is still the same. Six months. A year at the outside, _if_ you follow your doctor's instructions."

The news came as a shock to Sean. He'd been convinced that he was getting better. But this doctor was saying that wasn't the case. "But I've been stronger, haven't thrown up in days. I even went for a short jog the other day."

"I don't know what to tell you. The mind and body can play tricks on us." He passed over a business card.

"What's this?"

The doctor took off his glasses to polish the lenses. "The number of a local psychologist who specializes in helping people in your situation."

Suddenly angry, Sean stood. "Is that what I am now? A situation?" He tore up the card, and let the pieces fall to the floor. "I don't need a _shrink_ , and I sure as hell don't need _you_."

He stormed out, ignoring the receptionist calling out to him that he had a balance to pay on his account. In the car, he sat behind the wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. "Dammit!" He started the car, put it in gear, and left the parking lot.

Within a few minutes, Sean had purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels, and jumped on the highway. At the moment, his ultimate plan was fluid, starting with getting blotto. Whether or not he did something stupid after that would depend on his mood. "Shit. If I had a mood ring, it would have turned black and exploded by now."

Then again, maybe it would be better to get it over quickly instead of waiting for the end. He saw what he needed up ahead, and pulled into the parking lot. When he came out, Sean was the not-so-proud owner of one of the most popular handgun in the US: a 9mm Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol and a single box of ammo.

"Time to take charge of what's left of your life, Riggs. _You_ say when the end comes, not some over-educated quack."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

"Thanks, Nat." Justin ended the call, and turned to face Sean's family. "The car was seen by traffic cams heading into the Indiana Dunes State Park, with Sean behind the wheel."

Joe paced while Leanne baked. It was how she coped with stress, apparently, and they would all reap the rewards, including Sean, _if_ they could find him.

"Which entrance?" Joe asked.

"South end, away from the boat docks and picnic areas."

Justin watched Joe's face go pale and his mouth drop open. It closed with a snap. "Call the police. Now!"

With his phone out, thumb poised to dial, Justin asked, "Why?"

"The south entrance is closed this time of year. The road goes to a lake where fishing, swimming and boating are prohibited. It's also a favorite spot for someone to go if they want to-to…"

Justin dialed nine, and stopped. "I have a better idea. Where's Zoe?"

Leanne came into the room carrying a tray loaded down with hot cups of coffee and a plate of cookies. "I sent her to the back yard to play with Bear. Didn't want her to be here, in case…"

"Go get her. Hurry!"

Joe came to stand with Justin. "What do you have in mind?"

"You know that saying, 'out of the mouths of babes'?"

Bear came running into the living room ahead of Zoe. He panted, and plopped down in front of the fireplace. "Mom said you need my help."

Crouching so he was at eye level with Zoe, Justin smiled gently. "Sean's not feeling well, and I think you're just what he needs." He gave her the phone, and cued up Sean's number. "Just talk to him. It doesn't matter what you say. Once he hears your voice, he'll be fine."

"Think he'd play and sing for me?"

"If you ask him." Justin dialed, and handed the phone to Zoe.

 **Indiana Dunes State Park**

 **South Entrance**

Sitting in the car, Sean carefully loaded the ammo into the magazine, and shoved it into the grip. For a long time, he sat there just holding it, examining the lines, feeling the weight, and wishing there was another way out. Poison would've been good too, but he didn't know anything about them, and didn't want to do a half-ass job. Death by cop was another way to go, but then his family would be hounded by the press, and that he didn't want.

He turned on the radio, tuned to a contemporary rock station. One of the things Sean and Justin had bonded over that first night was their mutual passion for music. He waited for the perfect song to end his life to, as long as it wasn't one that he'd written and performed with Ambiguous.

A familiar tune came on, "Find My Way". When Ambiguous was starting out, they'd lucked into a gig opening for Jimmy Blue and Fallen Angels. Sean chuckled without humor. Somehow, it seemed fitting that he go out to a song by this group, being as he was already a fallen angel, metaphorically speaking.

Until the age of twenty-one, Sean had done everything his father's way, while secretly taking gigs at local clubs. Then, the day he'd been told he failed three of his five classes at university, he made the decision to step off the path his dad had set him on, and begin a whole new journey where he blazed his own trail. Now, he was doing it again. Statistically speaking, suicide wasn't in the top five causes of death, meaning he was about to take the 'road' less traveled, rather than be a sheep.

Sean turned the volume up loud, and sang along.

 _How do I get back_

 _To where I want to be?_

 _Where is the defining line_

 _That lets me be me?_

 _I'm searchin' and lookin'_

 _For more than I can say,_

 _Oh God, please help me_

 _Help me find my way._

 _Help me find my way back home,_

 _Back to how life should be_

 _Help me find where I belong,_

 _And who I'm meant to be._

Having read up on the subject, Sean knew where to shoot for maximum efficiency, so he would be killed, and not left in a vegetative state or paralyzed. He leaned forward, and placed the muzzle against the base of his skull…

 **TBC**

 **A/N:** To be clear, at no time do I believe that suicide is the answer. In case you're feeling that suicide _is_ the only way to go, I urge you to get help by contacting the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255.

"Up Where We Belong" is a song written by Jack Nitzsche, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Will Jennings. It was recorded by Joe Cocker (lead vocals) and Jennifer Warnes (lead and background vocals) for the 1982 film _An Officer and a Gentleman_.

The song, "Find My Way" was written by my close friend and Beta, ladygris, for another story. There's no music, just the lyrics.


	124. Chapter 124

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 124**

The phone rang shrilly in the quietness of the lakeside. Startled, Sean squeezed the trigger. He closed his eyes and prepared for the pain that would follow the bullet penetrating his skull. The hammer clicked… Then, nothing.

He slowly lowered the gun, astonished to still be alive. Holding the gun in front of him with the muzzle pointed out the window, dazed and confused, he swallowed convulsively. When he could think again, he realized he'd forgotten two very important steps when using a gun for any reason: he hadn't chambered a round, and hadn't taken the safety off.

The phone rang again with Justin's ringtone, and again, he jumped, screaming like a little girl. "A-ah!"

Panting, he carefully laid the weapon in the passenger seat, and breathed deeply to calm his racing heart. He pulled the phone from his pocket, thumbing the answer icon, and injecting carefree curiosity into his voice. "Hello?"

" _Sean?_ "

More relief flooded his mind that Zoe was on the line instead of Justin. "Hey. Yeah. What's up?"

" _When're you coming home?_ "

Playing it off, pretending he hadn't nearly blown his brains out, Sean smiled though she couldn't see it. "Why? Miss me already, little sister?"

" _Yeah, I do. Mom said to tell you that Aunt Karen and Uncle Luke are coming over_." The speaker was muffled for a moment. " _We were hopin' you and Justin would play and sing for us tonight_."

Mentally kicking himself for taking the coward's way out, Sean held back tears at the pleading in Zoe's voice. "You can hear me sing any time you want. Just borrow Dad's CDs."

The girl huffed in the way that kids did when adults were being asinine. " _It's not the_ _same_ _. You said Justin is a good singer, and he's not on the CDs_." Again, the speaker was muffled then Zoe came back on. " _Mom wants to know what you want for dinner_."

"What's your favorite?"

" _Hamburger soup with dumplings, and peach cobbler with ice cream for dessert_."

At that moment, the resentment and anger for his condition, rather than fully encompassing his world, shrank down to the size of a baseball, leaving an odd sort of calmness. The tightness in his chest eased up, and Sean could finally breathe. "What a coincidence. That's _my_ favorite too."

" _Cool_." In the background, Sean heard Bear whining. " _So, when_ _are_ _you comin' home?_ "

Sean started the car. "In a bit. Taking a drive to clear my head."

" _Okay_." There were muffled voices and a huff from Zoe. " _Justin wants to talk to you_."

Knowing that his ex-boyfriend would sense something was up Sean ended the call, and turned the phone off. Anything Justin wanted to say to him could be said in person. With the house full of family, he could put off the inevitable until they were alone in their room… hopefully.

He stashed the gun and ammo under the driver's seat, buckled the seat belt, put the car in gear, and made his way toward the exit. A park employee waved at him to stop. Sean waved back, and stepped on the gas, forcing the guy to jump out of the way.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Dinner Time**

Natasha pushed the food around her plate, while Bucky watched from the corner of his eye pretending not to notice. Since coming home from one of her mysterious "errands" she had been preoccupied, even giddy. To draw her out, he asked, "What did everyone do today?"

Pietro grabbed another biscuit and cut it in half. "I video chatted with Ivy to study world history. She was in the green dress at the Halloween party. Next week, we will be going on our first date."

Bucky patted him on the shoulder. "Way to go, pal. Where're you going?"

"We spent a lot of time studying, so no decision has been made."

He turned to Wanda, but before the girl could answer, Natasha blurted, "I went to the doctor."

The kids and he shared a look. Wanda gave Bucky a confident smile, letting him know that whatever Natasha's motivation, it wasn't going to be bad news. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've gone with you."

She took his hand, squeezing tighter than usual. "You had meetings all day, my love. I promise, next time, we'll go together."

Sometimes, it was worse than pulling teeth to get Natasha to talk about something bothering her. "So what did the doctor s…"

Natasha's face lit up with one of the most joyous smiles Bucky had ever seen.

~~O~~

Having held her elation in check for too long, Natasha couldn't help herself. "We're having a girl!"

Bucky stopped with his fork in the air and his mouth open. Pietro paused in the process of buttering his biscuit, and Wanda, well, she just smiled. "I know you wanted it to be a surprise, but I couldn't wait. Bruce refused to tell me. However, he hadn't told Jarvis to keep mum." Still holding Bucky's hand, she placed it over her bump. "Say hello to your daughter, Abigail Esme Romanoff-Barnes."

Wanda squealed, and the twins jumped up and ran around to Natasha's side, hugging her between them. She basked in the attention knowing that they weren't treating her differently just because she was pregnant. She sensed their devotion to her and Bucky, and now to the baby.

Natasha pressed her palms to their cheeks, and sent them back to their seats. "There's something else. Bruce also said that the reason I'm showing when I shouldn't be is the baby is growing faster than normal." A strange little glance passed between Pietro and Wanda. She dismissed it, unwilling to let anything dim their joy.

Pietro seemed more concerned than anyone, but then he'd always been that way, especially with her. "What does that mean?"

"Instead of being born in July, Abigail will make her appearance at the end of March or beginning of April."

Bucky stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the sides. "We should think about when to have the baby shower."

Together, the twins exclaimed, "Baby shower?" Wanda continued alone. "Why would the baby be given a shower? Won't she be too small?"

Natasha and Bucky grinned, and he explained, "Not a shower, as in bathing. It's a party for the mom-to-be. The guests play games, drink punch, and eat cake. The showering is when the guests 'shower' the new mother and baby with gifts."

"Traditionally, the baby shower is attended by the mother's female family members and friends. However, that's changing. Now, the father and other male family members and friends are invited."

The twins looked thoughtful while finishing their meal. When done, they picked up their dishes and carried them to the kitchen. Watching them go, Bucky whispered, "Our children have something up their sleeves."

"They're teenagers. They _always_ have something up their sleeves." Natasha reached for his hand again. "You're not upset I gave the gender away?"

"Back in the day, you had to wait until birth to know what you were getting. And now that I think about it, this way is much more efficient for getting the nursery in order. Want me to call Clint about the add-on?"

His wife chuckled. "Not just yet. He's going to be a busy man. Steve and Joi want him to do some repairs and renovations to the house." Her smiled turned into a thoughtful expression. "Joi called to get Clint's number today, and there was something in her voice, like she wasn't telling me everything."

"Maybe she's pregnant too."

"That's not it."

It hit him that Natasha knew what was going on, or at least had a good idea, and had been sworn to secrecy. Bucky wanted to know what everyone was hiding, but prying was not his style. He'd let them have their secret. With so many family and friends involved, he was bound to find out soon enough.

 **The Riggs Family Home**

The car pulled up in front, and stopped, but Sean didn't immediately get out.

 _If he's hoping I'll go away, too bad. I'm here for the duration_ , Justin thought. Eventually, Sean got out, and came up to the house, holding his jacket closed in the front. "Where have you been?"

Sean passed him without stopping. "Went for a drive. Is that a crime?"

Justin followed him down the hall. "You stole my keys and took my car without permission. So, yeah, it kinda was."

"I did it all the time when we lived together, and you never said a word. Why're you all up in my grill about it now?"

In the doorway of their room, Sean turned around, blocking Justin from getting in. Justin crossed his arms and held in a huff of frustration. "You _know_ why. What if something had happened? We had no idea where you were."

Sean wiggled a finger in front of Justin's nose. "Aw. Were you worried about little ol' me?"

Annoyed, frustrated, and a little angry that Sean was being so obtuse, Justin made as if to push the door open. Sean stopped him with a hand in the middle of his chest. "I need to take a nap. Go find something to do for a while."

He gave Justin a shove to make him step back far enough that he could close the door. Justin reached for the doorknob, stopping without touching it when the lock clicked. It wouldn't take much to force it, but Justin didn't want to get into an argument in front of Sean's family. "Don't forget your mom and step-dad are coming over tonight."

" _I haven't forgotten. Now_ _go away_."

Zoe came up next to him, followed by the ever-present Bear. She slipped her hand into his, pulling him with her down the hall to the living room where Joe was putting on his jacket. "I have to go out for a while. Do you mind keeping an eye on Zoe for me?"

"Not at all. Where's Leanne?"

"That's why I have to go out. The restaurant's catering truck broke down, and they need help transporting the food. I'm headed out to rent them a van to use until the truck's fixed."

Justin picked up Joe's keys from the end table and tossed them to him. "I'm pretty good with cars. Want me to have a look at it?"

Joe's eyes lit up. "You're a guest. We couldn't ask you to do that."

"So, _don't_ ask. I'm volunteering. Just need access to tools."

At the door, Joe looked over his shoulder. "Jessie's restoring a classic '69 Mustang. I'll give him a call." The door closed, and Justin was alone with Zoe.

She tugged at his hand, and he followed her to the sofa. He took a seat on the end, and the girl immediately sat in his lap with an arm around his neck. "Dad said we should let Sean do whatever he wants. I think it's because he's sick."

At this age, Justin knew she was able to understand the full meaning of Sean's condition. "You're right, sweetheart. That's why we're here. He wanted to make up with his family before it's too late."

"I just met him, but Dad, Vinnie, Jessie, and Aunt Karen talk about him all the time." Zoe's eyebrows curled downward in thought. "From the stories they tell and how they talk about him, I thought he'd be a lot taller."

His loud snort made her smile. "He's six feet. That's not tall to you?"

"Yeah, but not as tall as Vinnie."

"Well, it's all according to your perspective." Justin urged Zoe off his lap and stood. "Let's get out of the house so Sean can take a nap in peace. We can take Bear for a walk down to the park, and on the way back, we'll stop for hot chocolate at the donut shop."

Excitement brightened her eyes. "Cool!" She got her jacket out of the closet and grabbed the leash from the hooks next to the front door where keys were hung. Bear was right there, his tail wagging so fast it was just a blur.

"Which one's the door key?" Zoe took a single key on a ring and gave it to him. She handed him Bear's leash and opened the door. Justin closed it behind them, and they were off.

~~O~~

Seconds after the front door closed, Sean came out of the bedroom for a quick check to verify he was alone. Back in the room, he took the gun and ammo from under the mattress. Sitting on the side of the bed, he unloaded the magazine, and checked the chamber. Nothing. Using an online video for guidance, he took the gun apart just in case Zoe found it. A ten-year-old wouldn't have the knowledge to put the pieces together, would she? Or she could do what he did and use a video.

If anything happened to her, and it was his fault… That train of thought derailed. Saying he wouldn't be able to live with himself was a pointless platitude. What could he possibly do to himself that wasn't already a certainty?

"Now where to hide the pieces?" Sean emptied the medicine bottles from the bag, replacing them with the gun parts and ammo. He went to the closet, took down one of his duffle bags, and stashed the kit inside. Leanne had put all his belongings in the dresser, along with Justin's. No one would have any reason to go in there.

A jaw-popping yawn reminded him that he really did need a nap, and it wasn't just a put-off to Justin. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket over the back of the desk chair, and lay down on top of the covers. Someone, he guessed Leanne, had made the beds. It was something he never did, even though his mother made him and his brothers do it every day. His opinion was: why bother, if you're going to just come home and go to bed again?

~~O~~

Sean sat up, rubbing his eyes, and wondering what had woken him up. He yawned, scratched his stomach, and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. When he came out, he made a beeline for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets until he found the tea. He made himself a cup of ginger and lemon with honey to keep his stomach happy and carried it into the entertainment room, going straight for the black baby grand in the corner. This instrument wasn't as fine as the one at Justin's grandfather's, but decent enough.

He seated himself on the bench and lifted the cover. As always when using a new instrument, he ran an arpeggio, listening to each note, finding it perfectly in tune. Closing his eyes, Sean brought to mind several songs that said how he was feeling. Earlier, he wanted Justin and his family to believe that he'd accepted his fate, but that wasn't the case. Still, he couldn't stop the pall of morbidity that draped itself over his mind.

 _Mama, take this badge off of me  
I can't use it anymore  
It's getting dark, too dark to see  
I'm feelin' like I'm knocking on Heaven's door_

 _Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door  
Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door _

_Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door  
Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door_

 _Mama, put my guns in the ground  
I can't shoot them anymore  
That long black cloud is coming down  
I'm feelin' like I'm knocking on Heaven's door_

"That was always one of my favorite Dylan songs, and you play it beautifully, son."

Sean's hands stilled on the keys as his dad came into the room. He brought a tall stool over to sit near the piano. "I remember playing it for your birthday when I was Zoe's age."

"You only had to hear a song a couple of times to be able to play it, whether on the piano or the guitar." A moment passed in which both men were looking into the past. Then, it was over. "Play something else."

His fingers toyed with the keys in no particular order, until he chose another song. "Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton."

 _When I get where I'm going  
on the far side of the sky.  
The first thing that I'm gonna do  
Is spread my wings and fly._

 _I'm gonna land beside a lion,  
and run my fingers through his mane.  
Or I might find out what it's like  
To ride a drop of rain._

 _Yeah when I get where I'm going,  
there'll be only happy tears.  
I will shed the sins and struggles,  
I have carried all these years._

 _And I'll leave my heart wide open,  
I will love and have no fear.  
Yeah when I get where I'm going,  
Don't cry for me down here._

"Please stop." The look in Joe's eyes was nothing like the glare Sean had gotten from him when he told his parents he'd dropped out of law school. "Do another. Anything but that."

All the feelings from that day came back, ricocheting around the inside of Sean's head like a pinball. Without responding to Joe's comment, he went right into another sad song, starting with the chorus.

 _Gloomy Sunday_

 _Gloomy is Sunday_

 _With shadows I spend it all_

 _My heart and I_

 _Have decided to end it all_

 _Soon there'll be candles_

 _And prayers that are said, I know_

 _Let them not weep_

 _Let them know that I'm glad to go_

 _Death is no dream_

 _For in death I'm caressin' you_

 _With the last breath of my soul…_

~~O~~

"Must you play sad songs?" Joe asked his son. He knew Sean wouldn't be with them for much longer, and it hurt to be constantly reminded of the fact.

Sean's fists came down on the keys, producing a strident, indignant sound. "And what _should_ I play? Huh?" It was the same angry tone that he'd used the day they fought about Sean leaving the university for which he'd pulled favors to get him enrolled. "My life is almost _over_ , and you don't seem to get it! Sad songs are all I have left, Dad."

In an act of willful disobedience, Sean played yet another sad song. "You remember this one, don't you?" Hitting the keys harder hand necessary, he played the opening strains of the funeral march.

Joe stood up so fast, the stool fell over with a crash. He ignored it as he slammed the cover over the keys, forcing Sean to scoot back or risk having his hands crushed. "Stop it! I don't want to hear any more about…"

His son got up in his face. "Well, that's just too bad for _you_ , isn't it? Because it's _happening_. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but soon, and nothing you or I can do or say or pray about will change the fact that I will be _dead_ in a few months. Dead, and buried. End of story. No sequels. Game _over_!" Sean slashed a hand through the air, turned, and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Joe thought of going after him, but decided to let them both calm down. The front door opened, and Zoe's voice called out, "Dad! Sean! We're home!"

As an attorney, Joe had long ago perfected the ability to push his emotions to one side. He pasted on a smile, and went to greet his daughter and Sean's friend. "Welcome back. What have you been up to?"

Justin hung Bear's leash on the hook, his smile tight though his voice was lighthearted. "Beauty and I took the beast down to the dog park for a while."

"Then we got hot chocolate at the donut shop on the way back. We had to sit outside, but that was okay. They gave us a bowl of water for Bear."

Joe touched his daughter's shoulder. "Sounds like you had fun. Go play in your room, honey. Mom will be home soon, and we're having company for dinner."

Zoe trotted down the hall with Bear at her side. The men didn't speak again until her door had closed. The smile on Justin's face turned dark, and Joe got the sense that it wasn't a good idea to make him angry.

"What the _hell_ went on here? Why were you and Sean fighting? I could hear you all the way up the block. You do understand that upsetting him will only exacerbate his condition?"

Joe shoved his hands in his pants pockets, and let out a breath. "It was nothing. We just… We have very different ideas of what's in good taste, and what isn't when it comes to music. That's all." To end the conversation, he turned his back, crossed the living room, and went into the den, closing the door with a click when all he wanted to do was scream, yell, and throw things.

Instead, he sat on the sofa along the far wall, rested his elbows on his thighs, covered his face with his hands, and cried. He cried for the all the wasted years, for every harsh word spoken between he and his eldest son, and most of all, he cried for Sean's life.

And time.

Time to make amends, time to spend together like they did when he and his brothers were small, back in the day when Sean still idolized him. He remembered the pain in Sean's eyes the last time they'd seen each other, the day his son realized that his father was just a man, not a superhero, and the tears continued to fall.

~~O~~

The first place Justin checked was the bedroom, but Sean wasn't there. He hadn't gone out the front or side doors, and he wasn't in any of the other rooms. That left the back yard.

Using a finger to move the curtain aside, Justin saw Sean sitting under a tree, facing away from the house, tossing pebbles at the fence. He let the curtain drop back into place, and went to the kitchen where he found evidence of the tea Sean had made for himself.

With Joe's comment about music ringing in his ears, Justin went to the entertainment room, and found a still-full cup of tepid tea. He carried it to the kitchen, used the microwave to heat it up, and carried it out to Sean. His friend took the cup, with a half-hearted smile. Justin took that as an invitation to join him, and sat leaning against the tree next to him, listening to him toss pebbles, and sip the tea.

They endured a silent… whatever the opposite of camaraderie was called until Justin's phone beeped. He looked at the screen, and found a text from Wanda. "Huh."

Sean looked around, trying to see the screen. "Who's it from?"

"Wanda. She wants me to call her."

"She's your aunt. Better do it ASAP."

Justin flipped Sean off with one hand while dialing with the other. "Hey, Auntie. What's up?" He got to his feet and walked away from Sean. "How… No, that's fine… No, I will _not_ be calling her… Why? Because I'm not going to subject myself to ridicule in front of millions of people, that's why… No, don't send me her…" The phone beeped with another in-coming text. To keep from saying something he'd later regret, Justin hung up on Wanda.

He turned around, and Sean was standing there looking over his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I…"

"Why're you pissed off at your favorite aunt? Does it have something to do with that number?" He grabbed the phone. "That's a California area code."

Justin reclaimed his phone, and headed for the house. "If you must know, someone videotaped me singing at a Halloween party that Chase and I were chaperoning. Turns out he's the son of one of the producers for that singing contest show, _The Next American Star_. She wants me to audition for the upcoming season."

Sean handed the phone back. "You should do it. Even if you don't make it, at least you tried."

Incensed at the implication that he wasn't good enough to be on the show, Justin shoved the phone in his back pocket. "What makes you think I wouldn't be accepted?"

"Come on, Beeb. We both know you're good, but not _me_ good. You wouldn't make it past the first, _maybe_ the second, audition."

The tone of Sean's voice penetrated the indignation. Shaking a finger at him in reprimand, Justin huffed. "Nice try, _Chipmunk_. I'm not that easy to trick."

Sean lifted his shoulders and grinned sheepishly. "Worth a try. So don't do it for yourself, _or_ Wanda. Do it for me." Justin wavered. Sean saw, and went in for the kill. "Think of it as granting a last wish to a dying friend."

Crossing his arms, Justin locked eyes with his friend. "You really play dirty, don't you?"

A full-on grin lightened the dark mood that had surrounded Sean for most of the day. "Hey, if it ain't dirty, you ain't doin' it right."

Justin snorted at the comment. "Dude, that's sex."

Sean looked around, and dropped his voice down to a whisper. "Yeah, but we haven't had sex in over three years."

Before Justin could respond, the back door opened, and Leanne stepped out. "What're you boys up to? Come inside. I need some help with the cookin'."

Together they said, "Coming, Mother!"

Leanne rolled her eyes, motioned them inside, and closed the door against the fall chill.

 **Hours Later**

The doorbell rang, and Sean pushed himself off the sofa with a grunt. "I got it!"

Not that anyone else was in the room. Joe hadn't come out of the den in hours, Zoe and Justin were setting the table, and Bear was lying on Sean's feet. He stepped over the huge beast, who then followed him to the door. To the dog, he said, "Not everyone who comes to the door is here to see _you_." Bear panted happily, and sat down, wagging his tail. Shaking his head, Sean opened the front door without thinking who it might be. He gapped open-mouthed at the couple standing there.

The woman's eyes filled with tears. "Sean!"

His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, and he hugged her back. "I've missed you, Mom."

 **TBC**

"Knockin' on Heaven's Door" is a song written and sung by Bob Dylan, for the soundtrack of the 1973 film _Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid_.

"When I Get Where I'm Going" is a song written by George Teren and Rivers Rutherford, and recorded by American country music artist Brad Paisley in a duet with Dolly Parton.

"Gloomy Sunday", also known as the "Hungarian Suicide Song", is a popular song composed by Hungarian pianist and composer Rezső Seress and published in 1933.

Frédéric Chopin's Piano Sonata No. 2 in B minor, Op. 35, popularly known as the Funeral March, was completed in 1839 at Nohant, near Châteauroux in France. However, the third movement, whence comes the sonata's common nickname, had been composed as early as 1837.


	125. Chapter 125

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming.

Many thanks to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night. He also helped with the Urdu language, and gave me the conversation between Justin and Luke. Any mistakes were made by me after the information was sent. Thanks also for the song that Sean sings for Justin. It was perfect.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 125**

Sean's mother released him yet kept hold of his hand. "Sean, this is your step-father, Laiq Abbasi. Luke, my oldest son, Sean, finally come home."

Drawn by the excited voices, Justin came from the dining room, giving the man at Karen's side the once-over. He was tall, over six feet, ruggedly handsome, with wavy dark brown hair that touched his collar, and beard scruff. The man was at least ten years Karen's junior, and of middle eastern descent. It was also apparent from the look in his eyes that he adored his wife.

Karen, though recognizable from the one photo Sean had shown him, had changed in the decade since they'd seen each other. Her hair had gone from medium brown to dark blonde and was shorter than her husband's.

They came inside, and Justin was introduced, using that time to assess Luke's character up close. Justin's danger sense stayed silent, letting him know that Luke was worthy of trust.

Joe came out of the den, going to Karen's side, and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you again, Karen." He extended his hand to Luke. "Have a seat. Dinner will be ready soon. Can I get you something to drink?"

Luke glanced at Karen questioningly. She shook her head. "Nothing, thank you, Joe." He sniffed the air with a smile. "Is that Leanne's hamburger soup I smell?"

Zoe pushed her way through the adults. "And peach cobbler."

His grin widened as he lifted the girl in the air. "Zoe, _gurriya_! How are you?"

She hugged him briefly around the neck; he put her down, and she squeezed in between Sean and the arm of the sofa, forcing him and Karen to shift over. "I'm doing great. Sean and Justin are gonna sing and play for us tonight."

"Sounds like fun, _sajni_. Will you sing as well?"

Zoe giggled. "No, silly. I don't _sing_."

"Nonsense. You have a beautiful voice." Luke looked to the heavens. "Like an angel."

The girl blushed, and Justin took the chance to move attention away from her. "If anyone has requests, let us know. We're not picky." He slapped Sean on the shoulder. "This guy's the pro. For me, it's just a hobby."

Justin twitched when Sean snaked his arm around Zoe and pinched his ass with a smile. "Don't believe him. He's been asked to audition for _The Next American Star_."

He felt Leanne's presence before she joined them. "That's wonderful, Justin! Be sure to let us know when so we can vote for you, honey." She leaned over to hug Karen and present her cheek for a kiss from Luke. "Dinner's almost ready. If you don't mind, I need Justin's help for a spell."

From the look in her eyes, there was more to the request than on the surface. The swinging door closed, and Leanne stood in front of it to keep people out. "After dinner, would you keep everyone busy while Karen and Joe have a private meetin' with Sean?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Sean's daddy did some checkin' and found out he doesn't have will, and in the state of Virginia, where he legally resides, if you die without a will, the state's probate laws dictate how the person's assets are distributed." Justin blinked, and she huffed at him. "Country don't mean stupid."

She moved over to the stove, picked up a ladle, using it to stir the huge pot bubbling on the front burner. He stayed with her, leaning on the edge of the counter. "Never thought you were. How do you know so much about probate law?"

The ladle clinked against the ceramic holder, and she handed him two oven mitts. "Take the cobbler out of the oven for me, please." He did as she asked, while she took cups from the far cabinet. "When you've been livin' with a lawyer for more than twelve years, you tend to pick up bits of knowledge here and there."

Justin set the cobbler on the cooling rack and took off the mitts. "Joe seems accepting of Sean's chosen profession now, when he wasn't in the beginning."

Her smile of affection made her look even younger. "He's changed over the years and is quite proud of his son's accomplishments."

"Then why didn't he ever try to get in touch with Sean?"

Their eyes met, her mouth in a thin line, as if she'd been sworn to secrecy. "With most people, the big blow-up they had, and Sean's movin' out would've caused regret almost immediately. Not so with my Joe. He was sure that Sean would fail, and come crawlin' back, beggin' forgiveness. He didn't come to his senses until Karen served him with divorce papers. By then, it was too late. No amount of apologizin' would convince her to take him back. Truth be told, if it'd been me, I'd've done the same.

"Both of them tried to get in contact with Sean without tellin' the other. The younger boys, too. All their letters came back unopened." She made air quotes. "Return to sender." Justin carried the tray of cups, and pots of hot tea to the table, helping her set them out. "After a while, he stopped tryin'. Near to broke his heart when you called to tell us about his condition." She shook her head. "Joe rushed home when he heard you were comin' so he'd be here. After all this time, he didn't want to miss another minute with his son."

"Does Sean know?"

Leanne used a sad smile that made Justin feel like he'd done something wrong. "I'm good at readin' people. The first couple of letters were sent by his momma, and because Sean blamed her for appearin' to side with Joe, they were returned. After that, the only address they had for him was his manager's office. I suppose she wasn't inclined to pass on the letters 'cause they all came back. Joe was sure it was Sean's idea, that he'd never, ever, forgive his daddy for bein' misguided."

"After we moved in together, Sean finally told me why he didn't have contact with his family. Never mentioned it again. Shut me down every time I tried to talk to him about it."

Shaking her head, Leanne turned off the stove, and without being asked, Justin transferred the soup into two tureens on the counter.

"It's their way, the Riggs men. Stubborn as the day is long. 'Course, that's what makes my Joe such a good lawyer. Push, push, push. Never give up. But with Sean, well, he just couldn't handle havin' his olive branches ignored. I told him to give the boy time to come to his senses. Didn't know it would take a terminal illness to do it." Justin carried the tureens to the table, setting them where Leanne instructed. "Go tell everyone to get washed up for dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

 **After Dinner**

The door closed, and Karen leaned against it, so the men wouldn't bolt. "We know you don't want to talk about this, Sean, but it has to be done."

Joe exhaled loudly and went to the desk. "Sit down." He picked up a folder and turned to face his son. Karen held Sean's hand, waiting for Joe to continue. "You don't have a will." Sean tried to stand, and Karen pulled him back. "I've checked, and you have quite a few assets that need to be addressed."

"We have to do this now?"

Taking a seat on the other side of Sean, Joe laid the papers and pencil on the table. "No, but we're going to. Or at least get started." He handed his son a printed sheet of paper. "This is a list of your assets. I need you to go over them, and indicate what will go to who, or if you prefer, the name of charitable entities."

Sean looked over the list. "How did you get this?"

"The internet, plus a few favors." He held Sean's free hand. "I know this is hard. For us too. Your residence of record is in Virginia, and if you don't say how you want your estate disbursed, the state will make the decision, and it may not be what you want."

"I-I haven't really thought about it." Sean put the pencil and paper on the table and pushed them away. "And I don't _want_ to." He stood. "Maybe _you've_ accepted my fate, but _I_ haven't."

Karen rushed to get in front of Sean, stopping him from leaving. "You think this is easy for either of us? Just because we haven't seen you in more than a decade doesn't mean we stopped loving you. And for you to come back just because you're dying hurts even more than when you left. At least before, there was a chance you'd forgive us, and we could be a family again." Sean tried to go around her. She put a hand in the middle of his chest. "Any member of this family, including Zoe, would give up their lives for yours, if we could."

Tentatively, Joe gripped Sean's shoulder. "I've never been a spiritual man, but Leanne made me see that God has a plan for everyone."

Sean knocked their hands away, and backed out of reach, angrier than Karen had ever seen him. "Well, His plan _sucks_." He poked himself in the chest. "What about _my_ plans? They sure didn't include dying _before_ my parents." Again, he tried to leave, and Joe stopped him. "Out of the way, Dad."

~~O~~

Hearing raised voices from inside the den, Justin looked around, but no one else seemed to notice. To keep the atmosphere upbeat, he stood, and smiled. "They should be done soon. Let's all go to the entertainment room and find seats. Leanne and I'll bring drinks."

Leanne came up beside him, saying quietly, "They're fightin' again."

Equally quietly, Justin answered, "Not sure now that this was a good idea, coming back."

"No, you were right to bring him. WE all need closure, before it's too late." She drew him away from the den door. "I know my husband. If he can't make this right with Sean before he passes, it will eat him up inside. He'll start drinkin' again, and this time he'll lose everything. I won't put up with it again. I'll take Zoe and Bear and leave."

The kitchen door was open, and they heard a knock. Poking their heads out, Justin and Leanne saw Zoe's at the den door. Before she could, Sean opened the door, and his dark expression brightened. "Hey. What's up, Zoe?"

"When're you and Justin gonna start? We're all waiting." The girl looked up at Sean with such admiration and affection that Justin could see his heart melting.

He took her hand. "We'll be there in a few minutes. Why don't you make a list of songs you want us to do, while I finish talking to Dad and Aunt Karen?"

"Okay. But don't take too long. It's almost my bedtime, and Bear will have to go out soon."

Sean stood, and hugged the girl to him. "We won't."

Beside him, Leanne sniffed. "That child is a blessin'. Knows just the right thing to say at the right time. And smart as a whip, too."

Justin gave her a small nudge. "Takes after her momma," he said in a passable imitation of her accent, making her laugh.

They made another pot of tea, gathered cups, and poured a glass of milk for Zoe. Justin carried it into the entertainment room just as Sean and his parents came out of the den. Sean shoved a folded sheet of paper into his back pocket as he crossed the living room, followed by his parents. "Ready to do this, Beeb?"

"Whenever you are, Chipmunk."

~~O~~

Zoe's list included several of Ambiguous' most popular songs. While they'd reached the lower end of the top forty in the US, in Europe and Asia, the group had consistently charted in the top ten.

Justin picked up one of the guitars, tuned it by ear, and strummed a few chords to let Sean know he was ready. The first song was one of their biggest hits. He'd been there when Sean wrote it, even helped with the lyrics, but hadn't wanted credit.

In the middle of the song, Sean stumbled through the lyrics and chords, and Justin joined in to cover it up. They put another under their belt after switching places.

Going by the list, Justin motioned Sean over. They conferred in whispers and made their next choice.

Sean adjusted the guitar's strap over his shoulder and strummed a series of three chords as a riff or vamp. "This one isn't a request, but I thought the married couples would enjoy it. I need to rest my voice, so Justin gonna do the honors."

"Thanks, Sean. The song is 'Could I Have This Dance'. Feel free to," he raised one eyebrow at the couples, "bust a move." He played the intro, and everyone got up to dance, Zoe with her parents.

 _I'll always remember the song they were playing  
The first time we danced and I knew  
As we swayed to the music and held to each other  
I fell in love with you_

 _Could I have this dance for the rest of my life  
Would you be my partner every night  
When we're together it feels so right  
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life_

 _I'll always remember that magic moment  
When I held you close to me  
As we moved together I knew forever  
You're all I'll ever need_

 _Could I have this dance for the rest of my life  
Would you be my partner every night  
When we're together it feels so right  
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life_

Instead of singing the chorus a second time, Justin simply played the melody, giving him the opportunity to watch and listen to Sean on the guitar. As with the last song, he missed a few chords, and when he did, he seemed confused, as if he knew something was wrong, but didn't know what it was.

Their audience applauded, and the couples sat down. Justin motioned Sean over, and whispered in his ear. He nodded, set the guitar back in its stand, and took a seat with the others. "Sean's going to take a break so he can sit with his little sister for this next one. The song is about a father's love for his daughter. Aaron Lewis wrote it about leaving his daughter to go on the road. I'm changing some of the words around to fit Sean and our Zoe. It's called 'Zoe Jane'."

 _Well, I want you to notice_ _  
_ _To notice when I'm not around_ _  
_ _I know that your eyes see straight through me_ _  
_ _And speak to me without a sound_

 _And I want to hold you_ _  
_ _Protect you from all of the things I've already endured_ _  
_ _And I want to show you_ _  
_ _Show you all the things that this life has in store for you_ _  
_ _And I'll always love you_ _  
_ _The way that a brother should love his sister_

 _When I walk out someday_ _  
_ _I'll cry as I walk to the door_ _  
_ _I'll cry about how long I'll be away for_ _  
_ _I'll cry about leaving you all alone_

 _And I want to hold you_ _  
_ _Protect you from all of the things I've already endured_ _  
_ _And I want to show you_ _  
_ _Show you all the things that this life has in store for you_ _  
_ _And I'll always love you_ _  
_ _The way that a brother should love his sister_

The last note faded away. Justin looked over his audience when no applause followed, to see that they were dabbing tears from their eyes, with the exception of Luke. To get everyone in a good mood again, Justin pushed back from the piano. "For this next one, I need assistance from the audience."

He held out his hand to Zoe. She glanced at her parents.

"Go on, honey," Leanne urged.

With a shy smile, she came to sit beside Justin. Keeping his voice low so the audience couldn't hear, he ran the name of the song past her. "Let's sing it as a duet. You sing the first verse, we sing the chorus together, I'll do the second verse, and so forth. The last verse, we'll do together."

To his surprise, she eagerly agreed. "Okay!"

Justin pointed the piano's curve. "Stand there and let me know when you're ready."

The girl took her place and nodded. Justin played the opening, and Zoe came in right on cue, adding in body and arm movements that highlighted the lyrics. Her voice was just as Luke described it, angelic, though the look she shot him when he sang his first verse in Russian was deadly.

 _The snow glows white on the mountain tonight  
Not a footprint to be seen  
A kingdom of isolation  
And it looks like I'm the Queen  
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside  
Couldn't keep it in  
Heaven knows I've tried_

 _Don't let them in  
Don't let them see  
Be the good girl you always have to be  
Conceal, don't feel  
Don't let them know  
Well now they know_

 _Let it go, let it go  
Can't hold it back anymore_

 _Let it go, let it go  
Turn away and slam the door  
I don't care  
What they're going to say  
Let the storm rage on  
The cold never bothered me anyway_

 _It's funny how some distance  
Makes everything seem small  
And the fears that once controlled me  
Can't get to me at all_

 _It's time to see what I can do  
To test the limits and break through  
No right, no wrong, no rules for me,  
I'm free!_

 _Let it go, let it go  
I am one with the wind and sky_

 _Let it go, let it go  
You'll never see me cry  
Here I stand  
And here I'll stay  
Let the storm rage on_

 _My power flurries through the air into the ground_ _  
_ _My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around_ _  
_ _And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast_ _  
_ _I'm never going back, the past is in the past_

 _Let it go, let it go_

 _And I'll rise like the break of dawn_

 _Let it go, let it go_

 _That perfect girl is gone_

 _Here I stand in the light of day_

 _Let the storm rage on_

 _The cold never bothered me anyway!_

Sean and his family gave them a standing ovation. Justin held Zoe's hand, and they bowed. "We're going to take a break. Don't forget to tip your servers and bartenders."

~~O~~

Grateful that Justin knew him so well Sean relaxed and sipped his tea. He'd eaten more than he should have at dinner, and his stomach was rebelling.

After the break was over, he sent Justin to sit with the family, and took his place at the piano. "At times, we're all the loneliest kind of lonely. When Justin and I were living together, I was so focused on my career that we were more like acquaintances than two people who were supposed to love each other. And while we do still care, the love we once had has turned to a solid friendship that I wouldn't give up for anything.

"This song is about being yourself. No matter what the rest of the world thinks or says, always be who _you_ want to be, and not someone else's idea of the perfect you.

"As I told you before, Justin's been asked to audition for _The Next American Star_. He's still resistant. Hopefully, this song will help him make up his mind. It'll also remind us that what a wonderful talent the music world lost the day Mama Cass passed away."

 _Nobody can tell ya  
There's only one song worth singing  
They may try and sell ya  
'Cause it hangs them up  
To see someone like you_

 _But you've gotta make your own kind of music  
Sing your own special song  
Make your own kind music  
Even if nobody else sings along_

 _You're gonna be nowhere  
The loneliest kind of lonely  
It may be rough goin'  
Just to do your thing's the hardest thing to do_

 _But you've gotta make your own kind of music  
Sing your own special song  
Make your own kind music  
Even if nobody else sings along_

 _So, if you cannot take my hand  
And if you must be goin', I will understand_

 _You gotta make your own kind of music  
Sing your own special song  
Make your own kind music  
Even if nobody else sings along._

Sean glanced over at Justin, seeing the look in his eyes as he absorbed everything that couldn't be said in front of his family. It didn't matter what had been done to him, or the horrible things they made him do. He was proud to call Justin his friend.

The song struck a chord in Sean as well. And in between the beats of his heart, he took just a few steps closer in his journey to the final stage of grief: acceptance.

~~O~~

There was more applause, and Justin watched with fascination as Sean soaked it all in with an element of confusion, as if he thought himself unworthy. Justin shared a glance with Karen and Joe. They'd noticed the sour notes, and slight hesitation over some of the lyrics as had happened earlier. Whatever Wanda had done for him must be wearing off. He needed to rest.

Karen stood, catching his eye. She knew too. "Why don't you take a break and let someone else have their moment, Sean?"

"I need to go down the hall anyway. Don't start till I come back."

Justin went to the door to make sure Sean was out of earshot. Putting on a false joviality, he clapped his hands. "Who wants to go next?"

"Luke knows a few poems he could recite," Karen offered.

The taller man stood and bowed slightly. "It would be my pleasure, _janam_ _._ Shall I wait for Sean's return?"

Joe moved in his seat. "Please. This is as much for him as the rest of us. Who knows? Maybe one of us can find a bit of wisdom in those poems. I'm just sorry Vinnie and Jessie couldn't be here."

Leanne leaned forward. "I talked to them earlier. They've both been busy with cases and have to be in court in the mornin'. They'll come by tomorrow night with the families, so Sean can meet 'em."

Justin looked at the clock. "He's been gone a while. I should go check…"

The door opened, and Sean came back in, adjusting the beanie he wore in spite of the fact that they were all family, and didn't care if he had hair. "You waitin' on me?"

"Indeed." Luke stood up, gesturing for Sean to take his seat between his mother and father. "It will be my pleasure to recite a few of my favorite short poems. I will do them first in Urdu then in English."

He stood near the piano, one hand on its gleaming surface, and a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were picturing himself back in Pakistan. " _B_ _as-ki dushvā hai har kaam kā āsāñ_ _honā/_ _aadmī ko bhī mayassar_ _nahīñ insāñ honā_." Luke let the words linger a few moments. "In English…"

Inside Justin's head, he heard the words in Urdu, his brain immediately translating them, at the same time wondering how he knew the language. "'Tis difficult that every goal be easily complete/for a man, too, to be human, is no easy feat."

His eyes widening slightly, Luke nodded. "You know my language. It is surprising, as the two are so vastly different. A childhood friend once told me he was glad to have learned both languages as a child, because, if he'd tried to learn English as an adult, his brain would have turned to liquid and oozed out his ears."

The group laughed, drawing attention from Justin, for which he was thankful. That is until Luke asked a question. " _Y_ _e batao Justin, tum ne adab parha hai? Jess keh, Saadat Hassan Bedi ke afsane 'Ek Chada Meli Si' aur 'Thanda Gosht'?_ "

Justin was being tested and knew it. He responded with just the right amount of irritating smile. " _Nahein, aur parh bhi nahein sakta. Kiyun keh aisa koi adeeb hi nahein. 'Ek Chadar Meli Si' Rajindar Singh Bedi ne likhi thi jab keh 'Thanda Gosht' Saadat Hassan Mantu_."

"Let us continue together, my friend. I will recite the poem, and you will translate."

Not wanting to cause a scene by refusing, Justin agreed. He moved to stand on Luke's left, waiting for him to begin.

" _Koī mere dil se pūchhe tire tiir-e-niim-kash ko/ye_ _ḳ_ _halish kahāñ se hotī jo jigar ke paar hotā?_ "

Give the words the weight they deserved, he spoke. "What pain your arrow, partly drawn, inflicts upon my heart/cleanly through if it had gone, would it this sting impart?" To lighten the now tense atmosphere of the room, and hopefully extinguish the glint of suspicion in Sean's eyes. "It loses a little in the translation."

Luke patted him on the back. "Shall we do another?" Without waiting for Justin's agreement, he struck a pose. " _Mohabbat meñ nahīñ hai farq jiine aur marne kā/usī ko dekh kar jiite haiñ jis kāfir pe dam nikle_."

This one hit a little too close to home, considering Sean's condition, and Justin deliberated with himself if he should refuse. He took a deep breath, and spoke the words, "In love there is no difference 'tween life and death do know/the very one for whom I die, life too does bestow."

"One more, I think before our audience becomes bored, yes?" Luke's voice told him more than his words. The man had seen how uncomfortable Justin was with this turn of events and had taken steps to end it. "This poem is one that I recited to Karen when she continually declined my offers of marriage. It did not change her mind, but gave her much to think about."

With his eyes on Karen, he recited the words he implied had changed her mind. Luke's delivery was so impassioned it seemed almost sacrilegious to sully them with a translation. The silence following his recitation could've been cut with a knife. Then all eyes turned to him, including Luke's.

Wanting to give the poem its due emotion, Justin brought Rey's face to mind. He placed one hand over his heart. "After living on your promise, my love, I find out I would have died with joy, had it come true."

Oblivious to the change in dynamics, Zoe jumped up. "That was so cool! Can you do another song?"

Shaking out of the daydream of he and Rey together in wedded bliss, Justin smiled. "You bet. What say you sing with Sean while I play?"

Zoe and Sean conferred in whispers then told Justin their choice. He played the opening, and the siblings took turns on the verses, joining their voices for the chorus.

 _Come stop your crying  
It will be alright  
Just take my hand  
And hold it tight_

 _I will protect you  
From all around you  
I will be here  
Don't you cry_

Sean gathered Zoe in a hug from behind for his verse.

 _For one so small,  
You seem so strong  
My arms will hold you,  
Keep you safe and warm  
This bond between us  
Can't be broken  
I will be here  
Don't you cry_

' _Cause you'll be in my heart  
Yes, you'll be in my heart  
From this day on  
Now and forever more  
You'll be in my heart  
No matter what they say  
You'll be here in my heart  
Always_

 _Why can't they understand the way we feel  
They just don't trust what they can't explain  
I know we're different, but deep inside us  
We're not that different at all_

 _And you'll be in my heart  
Yes, you'll be in my heart  
From this day on  
Now and forever more_

 _Don't listen to them  
'Cause what do they know  
We need each other, to have, to hold  
They'll see in time, I know_

 _When destiny calls you, you must be strong  
I may not be with you  
But you got to hold on  
They'll see in time, I know  
We'll show them together_

' _Cause you'll be in my heart  
Believe me you'll be in my heart  
I'll be there from this day on  
Now and forever more_

Justin saw that Zoe had stopped singing.

 _You'll be in my heart  
No matter what they say  
You'll be here in my heart  
Always_

 _Always I'll be with you  
I'll be there for you always_

 _Always_

The last note faded away. Sean turned to hug his sister, catching hold of the piano to keep from falling when she avoided his grasp and ran toward the door. In mid-step, she changed direction, and went to her mother, crying. "He's gonna die, Mom! Why? I just met him, and he's gonna _die_!"

 **TBC**

Urdu:

 _Gurriya_ = doll

 _Janam_ _= my life_

 _Sanji_ = a friend who is a girl

" _Y_ _e batao Justin, tum ne adab parha hai? Jess keh, Saadat Hassan Bedi ke afsane 'Ek Chada Meli Si' aur 'Thanda Gosht'?_ " = Tell me Justin, have you read Urdu literature? Like the short stories by Saadat Hassan Bedi, 'Ek Chadar Meli Si' and 'Thanda Gosht'?"

" _Nahein, aur parh bhi nahein sakta. Kiyun keh aisa koi adeeb hi nahein. 'Ek Chadar Meli Si' Rajindar Singh Bedi ne likhi thi jab keh 'Thanda Gosht' Saadat Hassan Mantu_." = "I have not. No one can, because no such writer exists. 'Ek Chadar Meli Si' was written by Rajindar Singh Bedi and _'Thanda Gosht'_ was by Saadat Hassan Mantu."

"Could I Have This Dance" is a song recorded by Canadian country music artist Anne Murray August 1980, written by Wayland Holyfield and Bob House.

"Zoe Jane" is a song written by Jonathan Wysock, Michael Mushok, Aaron Lewis, and John April about Aaron Lewis's daughter, Zoe Jane. It is performed by Aaron Lewis.

"Let It Go" is a song from Disney's 2013 animated feature film _Frozen_ , whose music and lyrics were composed by husband-and-wife songwriting team Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez. The song was performed in its original show-tune version in the film by American actress and singer Idina Menzel in her vocal role as Queen Elsa.

"Make Your Own Kind of Music" is a pop song written by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, recorded in 1969 by Cass Elliot.

"You'll Be in My Heart" is a song by Phil Collins, from the 1999 Disney animated feature _Tarzan_.


	126. Chapter 126

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 126**

Luke and Karen discretely left the room. Justin would've joined them, but he couldn't get past the family without being noticed.

Sean took a step in Zoe's direction, drawing up short when she lifted her head from her mother's shoulder, and pushed out of her arms, turning to glare at their father. "It's _your_ fault! You made him go away, and now I won't get to know him!" She swung at him, and was stopped by Sean.

"Don't!" He held on tight when she tugged to get free. "What's done, is done, Zoe. Getting mad at Dad won't change anything." Turning her toward him, and holding her by the upper arms, Sean went down on one knee. "For many years, I blamed him and my mom for what happened. It wasn't until the doctors told me I wouldn't be around much longer that it dawned on me that I was just as much to blame as they. At any time, I could've come home, but I didn't. Yes, Dad is stubborn, bullheaded, cantankerous..."

"Hey!" his dad objected. "Do you _want_ her to hate me?"

Shaking his head, Sean gently brushed the hair from Zoe's tear-stained cheeks. "I'm the same way. We all are. Dad loves us both, and that's the important thing." He smiled, and Zoe did too. "Ready for bed?"

She rubbed her eyes, and nodded. However, whatever strength Sean had when they arrived was fading fast, and he couldn't pick her up. Justin swooped in, and took over. "Let me."

He carried her down the hall with Sean, Leanne and Joe on his heels. Joe stayed at the door while Leanne came into the room. Justin put Zoe on the bed, and backed out of the way so Sean could take his place.

To give them privacy, he stepped out, and quietly closed the door. Joe avoided his gaze, and Justin returned to the entertainment room, wondering if there was any way to salvage the evening, coming up with nothing. Karen was holding Luke's hand, and he could see in her eyes that she'd been torn between wanting to support her son, and staying out of it.

Luke lifted whispered to Karen, "Perhaps we should go?"

Justin heard, and waved the idea away. "Stay. Sean will want to say good-bye. Um, will you be here tomorrow night?"

"Only if Sean wants us," Karen told him. "He still has a lot of anger inside, and so do we, more for the years that were wasted because of foolish pride on all our parts."

"That may be, but you're still his family. Fight for what you want this time, Karen. Don't let it fester. Say what you feel, and don't hold back, even if it causes hurt feelings. My Gramps says, 'Better out than in'." Karen chuckled, and Luke gave up a small smile for the joke. Justin did as well. "He was talking about something else entirely, but it still works. Better to get all those emotions out in the open than to keep 'em locked inside."

In that moment, Justin realized that that's exactly what he'd been doing all these months. When talking about his feelings, there was always a part of himself he kept closed off. If he wanted to get better, to love himself again so that he could be with Rey, he needed to get it all out. Unburden himself to someone who understood. Gramps would be his first choice. However, all he knew about his time as the Winter Soldier was the basics, no details. On the other hand, there was someone he could turn to who remembered every minute he'd spent under the influence of another, unable to break free without help: Clint. He should take him up on his offer of sanctuary at the farm and winery.

The door opened, and Sean came into the room. He poked a thumb over his shoulder. "Sorry about that. Didn't know she knew what was going on."

Karen stood to take Sean in her arms. "She'll be okay. Zoe's like your father. She's like a bull in a china shop when she gets angry."

They sat down, and Justin edged toward the door so they could be alone. Before the door closed, Luke slipped out. They exchanged a look, and went their separate ways.

 **Mia's Apartment**

Mia hung up the phone, and laid it on her bedside table. Sam was stretched out on the bed next to her, both fully dressed. He held her hand, lending her his strength.

"What will you think about?"

"Sorry?"

He sat crossed-legged so they could see each other. "You told Joi you'd think about it."

"Oh, that. My lease is up at the end of the year. She and Steve want me to stay with them." Mia turned sideways, her legs curled under. "It would only be for a few months then we can find a place together, if you want."

"I want. I'm also sure that Steve doesn't want me living with him just to be near you." Sam drew her to him, turning them so they could lean against the headboard. "As long as the Rogers family doesn't mind overnight visits once in a while, we're good."

A laugh popped out. "They won't. In anticipation of Joi and Steve's agreement, I have an appointment for tomorrow morning."

Sam's hand stilled on her arm, where he'd been rubbing up and down. "Don't you have to be off your meds for a couple months before?"

Pushing to a sitting position so she could see his face, Mia grinned. "Not necessary. Haven't been taking anything." She waited for the realization to hit, and his eyes went wide. "Why do you think I insisted on these?" She held up a box.

Shaking his head, he pulled her close again, tucking her head against his neck. "I was so far under your spell, Ms. Barnes, I _didn't_ think about it." They sat there in silence for a few minutes then Sam ventured, "So this donor. Do I know him? And while you're at it, why didn't you ask me to help?"

"You don't know him, though you know _of_ him. As for you… we can discuss that later." Mia pushed out of his arms and got to her feet, extending a hand. "Let's get a shower and get ready for bed. I want to be clean and rested for tomorrow."

He jumped off the bed, pulling his shirt off over his head, muffling his voice. "Aren't you worried about, uh, contamination?"

"Don't worry. I have a plan. And unlike most scenarios, _my_ Plan A always works."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

 **Zoe's Room**

Sean sat on the side of the bed with Zoe tucked against his side. When Leanne left, Bear came in and laid his enormous head in her lap, his big brown eyes moving from her to him and back. "Forgive me for being a butthead?"

That startled a laugh out of the girl. "Not yet."

"Hmm. What if we spend tomorrow together, just you and me? We'll do whatever you want, within reason, of course."

Zoe sat up, her blue eyes big and round. "We should take Justin too. You know, in case you don't feel good."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Yeah. He's funny, and doesn't treat me like a kid like my parents do."

He gave her a tickle in the ribs, making her laugh for real this time. "But you _are_ a kid."

"Mom and Dad… they dumb stuff down too much. I wish they'd treat me like a regular kid, you know. I don't mean let me do stuff that teenagers do. I just want them to understand that I know more than they think I do."

"So, tell them." At her skeptical side-eye, Sean explained. "If Mom, Dad and I had talked before I went off to law school, Dad would've gotten used to the idea that I didn't want to be a lawyer."

Sean cuddled Zoe close again, both of her slender arms went around his waist. "Sean, would you teach me how to play the piano?"

"Of course, Bright Eyes. Any other requests?"

Her face lit up with excitement. "Anything I want?"

Pressing his lips together to keep from laughing, because Mia had said nearly the same thing to him less than two days ago, with very different motives, Sean nodded. "Within reason, yes."

"Thanksgiving is Thursday. School is out starting Wednesday. We don't do much in class the last day before a holiday. No one believes I'm related to a famous rock star."

"So?"

"So-o…" Zoe hesitated, as if she thought it would be asking too much. Then, she rushed through her request, the words practically falling all over themselves to get out. "Could you come to my school Tuesday so I can prove to my friends that you're my brother? Please?" Her eyes landed on the beanie, and she gasped. "You don't have any hair! What if they don't believe you're you?"

This he could fix. "Tell you what. Tomorrow morning, I'll have Justin take me to get a wig that looks like my hair, and get some clothes like what I wear on stage. How about that?"

"That would be perfect! Want me to go with you?"

"Sure, if your mom says it's okay." Zoe squealed, jumped up and ran down the hall yelling for her mother. Shaking his head, Sean gave Bear a double neck rub, and let him lick his face. "You take good care of my little sister, okay, Bear?"

The big dog barked once, the tone so deep Sean felt it in his bones. Thinking it was time to let Zoe get ready for bed, he headed out, grabbing onto the dresser beside the door when a dizzy spell washed over him. When it subsided enough that he could walk, he muttered under his breath, " _Dammit_! You couldn't wait a couple of weeks? There're things I gotta do before it all goes to hell."

~~O~~

After a stop in the bathroom to take his pills, wash his face and brush his teeth, Sean used all his will power to keep from stumbling on the way back to the living room. Luke and Karen were in the living room talking with Joe and Leanne. This whole day had surprised him. His parents had divorced and remarried, yet they got along better now than when they were together. Going by the fact that Zoe calls his mother and step-dad aunt and uncle implied that they spent enough time together to warrant the honorifics.

The running water drew Sean into the kitchen where Justin was washing dishes without Leanne's supervision. "She let you do them alone?"

Justin grinned over his shoulder. "There will no doubt be an inspection when I'm through." A towel sailed through the air, hitting Sean in the chest. "You dry. Stack them on the counter, and we'll figure out where they go when we're done."

"Sounds like a plan." They worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the murmur of voices from the living room interspersed with occasional laughter.

"What happened with Zoe?"

"That girl already has me wrapped around her little finger."

Justin let the water out, rinsed the sink and dumped out the drainer. "How so?"

"Within moments, she had me agreeing to visit her class next week before they break for Thanksgiving. Seems her classmates don't believe she has a rock star brother." He finished drying the silverware, sorting it according to use. "I volunteered you to take me to buy a wig and clothes in the morning. We should take her with us 'caused I also promised we'd spend the day together doing whatever she wanted. She wants piano lessons too."

Chuckling, Justin opened the cabinets and drawers, so they could put the dishes away. "I can help with that, and I'll do the driving, if you need me to."

"I do." That phrase reminded him of something. "Why didn't we ever get married?"

Justin opened the silverware drawer. "Because same-sex marriage wasn't legal in Virginia until 2014."

Shaking a finger, Sean wondered why he hadn't remembered that fact. "Right."

"Plus we broke up over a year before the law was passed. Not to mention neither of us was ready for that sort of long-term commitment."

"Right again." Sean folded the towel and hung it on the bar over the sink. "Justin…"

The swinging door opened, and Leanne stuck her head in. "Sean, your mom and Luke are leavin'. Come say good-bye, honey."

Justin gestured for him to go first and stayed within a few feet of him all while he was saying good-bye to his mother and step-dad. Even on the walk to the bedroom, he kept close, telling Sean that he'd seen his earlier weakness.

 **Later That Night**

After taking a long run to clear his head, Justin showered, brushed his teeth, and got into his pajamas. Padding down the hall, he passed Zoe's room. The girl was talking quietly to her mother about Sean. As he reached the room he shared with Sean, Zoe's door opened, and Bear came out. The huge animal lumbered down the hall and sat next to him, waiting to be let in. Justin obliged, and went in behind him. Bear jumped on Sean's bed and lay down with a loud grunt.

He tossed his dirty clothes on the chair, watching Sean at the desk. "What's up?"

Sean glanced over his shoulder and went back to work. "Just some paperwork to fill out."

The set of his shoulders told Justin it wasn't just paperwork. "It's your will." He sat on the side of the bed closest to Sean. "I hope you're not leaving me anything."

"And what if I am?" His voice had taken on that half playful, half serious tone he used when he was thinking of a lie, and stalling for time. "I'm leaving you a token, nothing big, like my entire estate."

"Good."

He dropped the pencil on the desk, and leaned back with a hand to his chin in thought. "What's Mia's middle name?"

"Lauren. Why?" Sean didn't answer except to scribble on the paper.

"I gave her the key to my storage locker before, uh… Putting it in the will makes it official."

Justin moved around where Sean could see him. "I know you wouldn't be so crass as to pay for the sex, so there's something else going on here."

Sean waved him away. "That's between her and me. My problem is remembering what all's in storage so I don't 'give' it to two different people."

"Makes sense. If Mia gets her hands on whatever's in there, she won't let go easily."

Chuckling, Sean erased, and rewrote a notation. "Can't make up my mind about a few things." He tossed the pencil down, and pushed away from the desk, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Bedtime, if you can get Bear to scoot over. The mountain of a dog was stretched out on his side, taking up the whole bed. Justin went to the bed, using most of his considerable strength to move Bear so Sean would have enough room to lie down. He gestured at his handiwork, and Sean thanked him with a smile.

~~O~~

Sometime later, when he was sure everyone was asleep Justin tiptoed down the hall to the entertainment room. Keeping his voice low, he dialed a number from his contact list. "Hey. Sorry to wake you, but I need a big favor, and you can't tell anyone. Not even that I called… Yes, I will tell you later. For now, it has to stay between the two of us… I knew I could count on you, Nat."

 **Sacred Heart Medical Center**

 **Arlington, Virginia**

 **The Next Morning**

The lobby was sparkling, with a soothing color scheme to ease the minds of those who entered. The door had been unlocked minutes when two women entered and marched confidently up to the reception desk. The blonde handed over her ID and insurance card. "Mia Barnes. I have an appointment."

The woman smiled blandly and handed her a clipboard. "Fill these forms out." She looked at Joi. "It's good to see spousal support at a time like this."

Joi blinked several times. "Spousal what? I'm _not_ her wife."

The receptionist seemed flustered for a moment. "I'm so sorry. I thought… Who are you, if I might ask?"

Mia snickered. "She's the mother of the bun you're putting in my oven."

Finally understanding, the receptionist got up and went to the copier. "And you've brought the specimens we requested? The sperm from the donor?"

"We did," Joi told her. "I tried to get my husband to come with us, but he's a bit squeamish about these things."

"Between you and me, most men are, except during the… collection process, even when it's done at home."

The grin on Mia's face grew wider, and Joi tried to stop hers, and missed. The receptionist gaped at both women, and Mia set the collection container on the counter. "Let's call him Mr. Anonymous."

"As you wish. I'll take this in the back…"

Mia snatched the container from the counter. "Why don't I just hold onto it for now? Wouldn't want someone else to get my specimen and me get hers. That would be a disaster."

"Um, why?"

Joi wanted to laugh at the look on the woman's face, but didn't. "It'll take too long to get more." Obviously, the business of artificial insemination hadn't prepared this woman to match wits with the Barnes women. Waving her concerns aside, Joi shouldered her purse, and led Mia to a pair of seats as far from the desk as possible. "You really can't get any more from, uh, Mr. Anonymous?"

"I could, but I'd have to leave the state." Before Joi could form a response, Mia shook her head. "Long story. As long as these guys," she indicated the container, "are viable, we're golden."

"If you say so." With a hand over her mouth, Joi laughed again. "I can't help thinking about the look on Steve's face when I asked if he wanted to come with us. Epic terror."

Mia made a zipping motion, indicating she wanted Joi to be quiet. She took out her phone, accessed the games, and chose one to play, not even looking up when Mia carried the paperwork to the desk.

A few minutes later, a nurse came to show them to an exam room. She took a gown from a drawer beside the sink, and handed it to Mia. "Take off everything, and put this on. The doctor will be in shortly."

When the door had closed, Joi looked out the window while Mia changed behind the partition. "It's time to put up or shut up, cuz. No going back."

"If I was gonna change my mind, I wouldn't have made the offer, so stop asking." She came out wearing the purple gown, and hopped up on the exam table. "My fertile days began yesterday. It has to be done now."

Joi had a seat in the corner. Both women looked up at the knock on the door.

 **Legend's Costumes & Wigs**

 **Falls Church, Virginia**

The saleswoman turned the chair around so Sean could see himself in the mirror. "Whaddya think?"

Justin's and Zoe's reflections flanked Sean, all three giving the results a critical inspection. They nodded, and Sean smiled. "It's perfect, Meredith. Thanks."

Zoe held Sean's hand, while looking at the unassuming woman who owned the store. "Now we need clothes." She took a CD case from the pocket of her jacket, and handed it over. "He needs to look like this…" She pointed to Sean standing in the middle with the rest of Ambiguous around him. "But no hat."

Of them all, Sean was the only member dressed as what most would call normal. He wore a graphic tee under a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. When the photo was taken for their first CD, the photographer had wanted him to wear his hair spiked and dyed an ugly shade of dark orange. He'd set the man straight right away, and wore a grey fedora with a black band as a compromise.

Blaze Maddox, guitar and back-up vocals, elected to wear a bright purple suit with a wrinkled grey shirt and a long scarf covered in large checks. His hair was a throwback to nineties hair bands when mullets were popular.

Hawkins "Hawk" Wilder, main keyboardist and vocals, had cut his hair super short, and wore a butterscotch brown pinstripe suit that looked like he'd slept in it for several days. The shirt underneath was black and white paisley, and a narrow scarf had been looped around his neck. All in all, not a good look for an African-American.

Grey Vintner, bass player, no vocals, also wore a pinstriped suit in black and white, a black turtleneck and sunglasses. His hair was short, and he was the only member of the group with a beard. The man never smiled.

Kane Maverick played the drums and helped out on vocals. For some reason, the photographer thought having someone who weighed upwards of three hundred pounds in overalls would give the band a down-home feel, while at the same time being edgy. His eyes had a permanent squint, as if he were always standing in bright sunlight without sunglasses, and he always wore a bowler hat. Both arms were tattooed from wrist to shoulder.

Then there was Patty Vane. Sean thought of her as an inelegant version of Lindsey Stirling. She insisted on dressing as if she were in a heavy metal band that had been on the road so long the shower no longer worked, multiple piercings, a torn t-shirt that said, "Don't tell me to smile", shoulder length hair with teal highlights that she'd done herself and it showed, a leather jacket, and tight jeans with combat boots. Patty played violin and appeared as a guest vocalist on all their CDs. Because he had a thing for her, Grey had pitched a fit until Sean agreed to have her on the cover.

Sean thought all the photos taken that day had sucked, but was voted out by the rest of the group and their manager.

Meredith took the CD, staring at it for a full minute before handing it back. "Come with me. I have just the thing."

When they left the store nearly an hour later, Sean had elected to wear the wig so he could get used to it. Meredith, bless her heart, had given him a bottle of adhesive to keep the wig in place, even in a strong wind.

In the car, Sean looked in the visor mirror. "Looks pretty good, Zoe, don't you think?"

She leaned forward as far as the booster seat would allow. "It's great! You look like you again." Her smile turned to a frown as it did every time she remembered he would be gone soon. "No one at school will know you're sick."

Justin stopped at the light. Sean turned to look out the window, and found the driver of the car in the next lane armed with an expensive camera pointed at him. He clicked off a series of photos, and when the light changed, he sped away before Sean could say a word. "Bottom feeding miscreants."

"There's more behind us. They must've seen us coming out of the shop, and decided to follow." To Sean's surprise, Justin grinned. "I'll take care of it."

At the next light, Justin hit the accelerator just as it turned green, swerving from lane to lane, narrowly missing other cars whose drivers honked and shouted obscenities. Sean held on tight to the OS handle and the dash as the car made a sharp left turn then a right. They drove like this for the next ten minutes or so then pulled into a parking garage and didn't stop until he got to the top level.

He parked, jumped out, and ran to the parapet, looking down into the street. Sean let Zoe out of her seat, and they joined Justin. He pointed. "There. That's them."

The car that had tried to follow them pulled into a small side street. The passengers got out, looking up and down the main street in all directions.

Justin gestured. "Come on." They went back to the car, but Justin didn't get behind the wheel. He took their purchases, the booster seat, and other personal items out, locked up, and headed for the elevators.

"Wait! Where're we going?"

The elevator dinged, the odd little trio got on, and the doors closed. "We're gonna rent another vehicle. One they won't be looking for."

~~O~~

As they reached the ground level, and emerged into the light, Justin saw a sign that caused an idea inside his head to gel. He'd been thinking about it for a couple of days, and now he knew it was the right thing to do. "Before we do anything else, I have an idea." He pointed to the building a half block down.

Sean huffed at him. "That's the DMV. I'm not wasting money having my driver's license renewed."

"Not that. There, at the bottom." Justin waited for Sean to figure it out.

His mouth dropped open, and his breathing sped up. "You're not _serious_."

"I am." Justin pulled out two sheets of paper, both with an official seal at the bottom. "Nat pulled in a few favors to get them emailed to me. Printed them out in your dad's office before he got up."

His closed his mouth, and swallowed. "But what about…"

Justin patted his breast pocket. "Got everything we need right here, and there's no waiting period."

"You, uh… Wow, you did your homework." Covering his mouth with his hand, Sean paced away a few steps and back. "Ah… yeah. Okay. Let's do it."

Zoe tugged on Justin's jacket. "What's goin' on?"

The men smiled down at her while Sean signaled to cross the street. "It's a surprise."

"But first," Justin held up a qualifying finger, "we have to make a stop at that consignment shop." He nudged Zoe. "How'd you like some new clothes?"

"That would be _cool_!"

Justin caught Sean's eye, and smiled. "The princess has spoken. Let's go."

 **Sacred Heart Medical Center**

 **Arlington, Virginia**

Once the lab had confirmed that Mia had indeed been taking the fertility drugs and supplements prescribed, Joi went to get something to eat while the lab processed the donor sperm, and the doctor completed another full physical exam.

Once the sperm and sponge had been inserted, Mia lay on the exam table with her knees up. Staying in this position boosted the chances of the procedure's success. There was a knock on the door. "Come in."

Joi came in and closed the door. "How did it go?"

"Easy-peasy. If it doesn't work, there's enough to try two more times, and that's it. Steve will have to pony up." One eyebrow inched up her forehead.

"Fine. If this doesn't work, I'll talk to him again. Let's just leave it for now." Joi smiled, took a deep breath and let it out. "Think only good thoughts."

Mia snorted. "Grams would tell us to pray."

"So, we'll pray." One shoulder went up and down. "Silently."

"Right."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

Hearing a car door slam, Joe stepped out onto the front steps, watching Sean, Justin and Zoe climb out of the car, and gather several bags from the rear hatch. The trio laughed, telling him that it had been a good day for Sean. In fact, he looked happier than he had since they arrived. "Where've you been all day? Leanne's fretting over dinner, and Karen's doing what she does best: soothing frazzled nerves."

Sean slapped him on the shoulder. "We're here now. We're gonna freshen up then we'll help get dinner on the table so we can eat." He rubbed a hand over his stomach. "I'm _starving_."

As Zoe passed Joe, she smiled secretively, like she knew something no one else did. It had to be monumental for her to drop the poker face. "Have fun, Zoe?"

"I had a _great_ time!" She fairly shook with glee. "Next week, Sean's gonna come to the school to visit my class. Isn't that the coolest?"

Joe laid a hand on the back of his daughter's head. "Absolutely. I'll call the school and get it approved by the principal." That's when he noticed her clothes. When she left home, she was in her usual blue jeans, purple sweater, sneakers, and jacket. Now the girl wore a black turtleneck sweater dress, a leopard print belt and matching ankle boots, and black tights. The same girl who had stated unequivocally that she hated hats on anyone was now wearing a floppy brimmed felt hat with a leopard print band. She also wore jewelry, bracelet, necklace and earrings that looked like it had been kept in someone's jewelry box for forty years.

She noticed his perusal, and looked down at herself. "Justin bought them for me. That was okay, wasn't it? The lady at the store helped me try them on."

"Of course. But why?"

Spinning in a circle, she showed that same sly smile. "Can't tell you."

Zoe breezed past him and down the hall to her room without acknowledging their guests. Joe made a note to talk to her about her manners.

By the time he closed the front door and returned to the living room, Sean was on his way back. He stopped and stared at their guests, who stared back.

~~O~~

Upon their return home, Sean was so excited, he barely registered the people in the living room. Now, he looked them over, clenching his jaws to keep from gaping. For the moment, all he could see were the two casually dressed men who somewhat resembled his younger brothers. The last time he saw them was the day before he moved out. Both had been lanky, surly teens then. Vinnie had been set to start college that coming fall, and Jessie was in his second year of high school.

Now, Jessie was holding his sleeping son. He passed the boy to the blonde woman next to him, and slowly got to his feet.

Sean came around the sofa, slowing his approach as Vinnie stood up, and kept going. Zoe had said Vinnie was tall, and hadn't been kidding. He was six-five. Jessie, on the other hand, was the same height as Sean. When he hesitated, his brothers came forward, gathering him into a bone-crushing three-way hug.

~~O~~

Watching from the hallway, Justin leaned against the wall, a nostalgic smile for the touching scene. Turning to his right, he saw Leanne and Karen standing in the kitchen doorway. Leanne had her arm around Karen's shoulders.

Justin pushed off the wall, and went to join them. "Hope you've got something special for dessert tonight, Leanne."

"Oh, and why would that be?"

"There's more than just a family reunion to celebrate."

Looking smug, Leanne returned to the kitchen and Karen went to visit with her sons. "Will pineapple upside down cake do the trick?"

Feigning disappointment, Justin sighed. "Well, if that's all you've got…"

"Hush, you!" Leanne swatted him with a dish towel. "It isn't an ordinary pineapple upside down cake. The Alabama State Fair judges said it was so good it would make you jump up and slap your mama."

"I guess we can make due then."

This time, she swung at him with the oven mitt then handed it and its twin over. "You keep insultin' my cookin', and you'll see what's what, son. Now take the food out of the oven so we can get dinner started."

Justin saluted her with the mitt. "Yes, ma'am."

 **After Dinner**

Leanne brought dessert to the table accompanied by enthusiastic applause. She set it next to the dessert plates that Justin had brought out for her. He went around the table refilling glasses of water, and cups of hot tea where necessary, and passing out clean forks.

Once he was seated next to Zoe with Sean on her other side, Leanne shushed everyone. "Before we get to cuttin' the cake, Justin has somethin' he wants to say."

Sean stood with Justin, taking the lead. "We, Justin and I, have an announcement. Today, while we were out…"

Before he could finish, Zoe jumped up, her smile even wider than before. "They got married!"

 **TBC**

Same-sex marriage has been legally recognized in the U.S. state of Indiana since October 6, 2014.

To get married in Indiana, you need a marriage license. You and your partner will have to go to the local county clerk's office with your identification showing your date of birth. However, you can start the application process online to save time at the clerk's office.

In some places, the county clerk's office is located at the DMV. You can get married the same day you apply for the license, if you meet all of the above criteria.


	127. Chapter 127

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 127**

Everyone around the table stopped what they were doing when Sean and Justin held up their left hands, showing a simple gold band on their ring fingers.

"And I was their best man! I mean best girl," Zoe squealed.

Sean waved a hand. "Actually, she was the best girl, maid of honor, flower girl and ring bearer."

Laying a hand on Zoe's shoulder, Justin added, "And she performed her duties so flawlessly, that the couple behind us asked her to perform the same services for them. Our Zoe would make an amazing wedding planner."

Joe cleared his throat and glanced at Karen, who was looking at him. "Considering your future, Sean, was that wise?"

"Abso-freakin'-lutely. As my spouse, Justin's going to be the executor of my estate, to make sure my wishes are followed to the letter." Sean looked over at Justin. "This just makes it all legal."

Karen stood, and raised her water glass, waiting for the rest of the family to do the same. "Well then, to the happy couple!"

The family responded, "Congratulations!" and drank. All returned to their seats, with Leanne remaining standing. "Now that I know why you wanted a special dessert, I wish I'd made somethin' fancier." She took out her phone, frantically scrolling her contact list. "I'll call the restaurant. We have a red velvet cake with cream cheese frostin' that's to _die_ for. Chef can write your names on it and the busboy will bring it right over. Won't take… Hey!"

Justin swiped her phone and turned it off. "Don't you dare! Pineapple upside down cake happens to be our favorite." He looked over at Sean, who nodded and smiled.

She gave in gracefully. "Okay, if you're sure. Why don't you and Sean stand here, and we'll get a picture of you cuttin' the cake."

~~O~~

Dinner was over, and as he'd done the previous night, Justin washed the dishes, this time without Sean drying. He was in the den with his dad and Karen going over the list he started the night before and finished at lunch denoting who would get what after he passed. Jessie's girlfriend and Vinnie's wife stood by to witness the signing, and Leanne would notarize it.

Justin placed the last plate in the drainer, hoping no one saw when he switched his nearly empty plate with Sean's, so they wouldn't know that he hadn't eaten more than a couple bites of cake.

That afternoon, along with their best girl, Zoe, the newlyweds had a celebratory lunch at a restaurant that overlooked Lake Michigan called the Lighthouse Café. Sean ordered lobster mac and cheese and tea. Justin had wanted to order something simple too, so he wouldn't feel out of place, but Sean insisted that his companions have whatever they wanted, on him. Zoe had a kid-size seafood pizza and an old-fashioned kid's drink called a Shirley Temple. Justin took his new spouse at his word and ordered the steak and lobster with spicy roasted garlic butter, rosemary potatoes, and salad. Though Sean had encouraged him otherwise, he drank tea instead of beer.

Toward the end of the meal, the manager came over, summoned by the server who had overheard them talking about having just gotten married. He wished them much happiness and presented them with a mini molten lava chocolate cake with sparklers, on the house.

When they finished eating, Sean excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Justin knew he'd gotten sick by the paleness in his features when he came back. They all pretended that everything was copacetic afterward, just like now.

The den door opened, and Sean and his parents said their good-byes to the family. Earlier, he had spent time with his niece and nephew. They took to him like ducks to water. Austin had cried when Sean went into the den and closed the door.

Sean padded down the hall to the bathroom. Justin dried all the dishes, and put them away, giving him plenty of time to be sick, if he needed to, and to get ready for bed. And still, he waited, bringing to mind the conversation they had the previous night, lying in the dark, before going to sleep.

 **Last Night**

The lights were out, and Justin lay on his bed listening to Sean's breathing. It had changed over the last day. No one else noticed, but then they didn't have the advantage of super-powered hearing. The doctors may have given him another six months, though Justin knew for a fact that he wouldn't last more than a few weeks.

"Know what I regret the most about dying?" Sean asked quietly. Bear grunted and moved to the foot of the bed.

"You won't get to see the next _Mission Impossible_ movie?"

Under his breath, Sean muttered, "Get off my feet, ya big mutt! And gimme my friggin' _blanket_!"

Justin got up to assist, yanked the blanket free, covered Sean up to the chest, and returned to his bed. They lay there quietly for so long, he thought Sean had gone to sleep.

"I really thought I was getting better, Just. I mean, I had sex three times-four out of five stars, and we both enjoyed it." He shifted in bed, hit the pillow with his fist, and lay back down. "There was so much I wanted to do that wasn't on my bucket list. I wanted to live on the moon, see Dallas win the Super Bowl three times in a row, backpack through Europe, see the northern lights, walk the red carpet. And dammit! I wanted to see us colonize Mars. Oh, and let's not forget the _Mission Impossible_ movie, _and_ the first woman president."

"Snap! It's done. Feel better now?" Justin told him with genuine humor.

"While you're at it, make me a bigger star than Sinatra, Elvis and Michael Jackson combined." He chuckled, but it there was only a touch of humor in it. "More sex would be nice too."

Justin rolled onto his side facing the window. "I'll work on it, and get back to you in the…"

They were quiet for a while, each engaged in their own thoughts, while Justin waited for Sean to fall asleep.

Sniffing and soft hitches in Sean's breathing could only mean one thing. Tossing off the covers, he went to Sean's bed, and pushed Bear off. The beast huffed and took over Justin's bed. Without a word, he lifted the covers, poked Sean in the back to get him to move over, and lay down, spooning him from behind. He reached over to grab several tissues and gave them to Sean. After blowing his nose, he put the tissues on the other bedside table and squeezed Justin's hand where it lay on this stomach. "I-I don't wanna die, Beeb. Make it stop. Please, make it stop."

"Wish I could, Chipmunk." Holding him close, Justin closed his eyes. "Wish I could."

 **Present**

It was the crying as much as anything else that told Justin his friend had finally acknowledged his fate. That he'd reached the point of acceptance. Of recognizing that there wouldn't be any miracle cure, and that his life was coming to an end. He lay in the dark listening for more tears, but all he heard was the soft susurrations of Sean's rhythmic, and slightly labored breathing, and the deeper tones of Bear.

Tossing the covers aside, Justin picked up his phone from the bedside table, and went to the entertainment room again. Before dialing, he sent a mental poke at Wanda, and was relieved to feel one in return. Seconds later, his phone vibrated with an incoming call. "Did I wake you, Wanda?"

" _You did not, Justin_." There was a short pause. " _Something is wrong_."

"You can sense that so far away?"

He heard someone knock on Wanda's bedroom door. Probably Nat or Bucky. Pietro would just barrel in this time of night. " _You call me auntie when life is a barrel of monkeys, and do not when you are upset._ "

Chuckling at her incorrect use of the idiom, Justin automatically corrected, "Bowl of cherries." He sat down on the small sofa in the corner and swung his feet up. "I need a favor. The biggest one I've ever asked of anyone."

" _Sean_."

"Yeah. He was fine until he went to the doctor, like you said. Since then, he's been in a downward spiral, mentally, emotionally and physically. Sometime in the next few weeks, he'll crash and burn."

Realizing too late that she might not understand the slang, Justin was about to explain. He closed his mouth at her response. " _I will do what I can._ " Her door opened again, and Pietro's voice could be heard calling for Natasha and Bucky. " _Hold on_." A hand over the receiver muffled her voice, though Justin could still hear most of what was being said. " _What?! Say that again, Pietro_." The hand was removed, and Wanda was back, her voice filled with shock. " _You and Sean got_ _married_ _?_ "

Justin hadn't wanted to mention it until later, but, well, too late. "Don't tell me. Twitter."

" _We are all receiving chats, texts, and phone calls from family and friends. Carolyn especially is highly upset that she had to hear it from a friend and not_ _you_ _._ " He heard her at the laptop. " _The photos do not look like you_ _or_ _Sean. And who is that girl?_ "

Mentally cringing at his _faux pas_ , he let a sheepish grin into his voice, "Whoops. Knew there was something I forgot to do. I'll call Mom in the morning and tell you all about it when I see you." He breathed in and out a few times. "About that other thing…"

" _Of course._ " Her footsteps whispered over the carpet, the door closed, and strangely, there was the sound of furniture being dragged over the carpet. " _What do you need?_ "

Sitting up, Justin rested his free arm on the top of his thigh. "How fast can you get to South Bend?"

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Wanda ended the call to the combined voices of her brother, mother and father wanting to know what was going on. With a flick of the wrist, the dresser returned to its accustomed place and the door opened. "I needed to speak to Justin privately, without interruption."

Bucky's forehead creased in thought. "What did he have to say about getting married?"

"Just that he will call Carolyn in the morning. At the moment, there are other issues that are more urgent."

Somehow, Natasha knew she was needed for this request. "Tell me."

"I must go to South Bend as soon as possible."

Pietro stepped out in front of their parents, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as they did when Sean was mentioned. "Why?"

Wanda looked down at the phone in her hand, letting the sadness in Justin's voice flow over her. "I cannot say."

Now Bucky was angry. "You're keeping secrets again, baby girl. That _has_ to stop."

Feeling his anger so close caused hers to rise as well. "I cannot say because Justin did not _tell_ me. He only requested that I come. If he needs my assistance badly enough to call in the middle of the night, then there is no question. I _must_ go. If you and Mother are unwilling to help, I will find my own way."

All three looked at Natasha, who had just hung up the phone. "Get packed. Clint will be here in fifteen minutes."

Wanda tapped out a message to Justin, and received a response within seconds.

 _Thanks, auntie. I've made a reservation at a hotel not far from here. Check in, and get some rest_.

 **The Pryce Family Home**

Collin awoke to Milo swatting his nose. He pushed the cat off the bed, but he jumped up again before he could even close his eyes. Rolling over, he found that Serenity was gone. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Milo ran into the bathroom where Collin found his wife on the floor, rocking and holding her stomach. Serenity looked up at him with tears in her eyes as she moved so he could see blood had soaked into the bathmat.

He signed to her _I'll get dressed and take you to the hospital_.

Not waiting for a response, Collin changed into the clothes he'd laid out the night before. He dressed quickly, pulled on his sneakers and coat, and brought towels, his wife's bathrobe and her coat. Once he had her bundled up, he carried her down to the car and laid her across the back seat. He fastened the seatbelts, and got behind the wheel, putting his own seatbelt on as he backed out of the driveway.

Serenity used his phone to send an urgent call to her obstetrician, and received a message saying that he would meet them at County General's emergency room. She tapped Collin on the shoulder, turned the phone so he could see the message, and lay back down.

After breaking more than a few speed limits, Collin pulled up to the emergency room entrance. A security guard came out motioning for him to move the vehicle. Collin opened the back door, so he could see Serenity. He took back his phone, frantically typing out a message.

 _My wife is pregnant with twins, and she's bleeding. Please help her! Hurry!_

The man went inside and came back with medical personnel pushing a stretcher. By then, Collin had gotten his wife into a sitting position with her feet out. He backed out of the way when the men in scrubs elbowed past. He chewed on a thumbnail as they lay her on the stretcher and wheeled her into the ER. Their mouths were moving too fast for him to read their lips.

When he tried to follow, the security guard stopped him. The man took out a pad. _Sorry. You'll have to wait here while they work. Someone will be out soon. What's her name?_

Taking the pad, Collin wrote, _Serenity Pryce. Tell the doctor she's had a backache, fever and some weakness the last couple days_.

The guard nodded, and led him to the reception desk where he was handed a tablet with instructions on how to fill out the forms. Collin carried the tablet to a chair that was in sight of the doors, and went to work.

 **The Riggs Family Home**

Now that he knew Wanda was on her way, Justin had time for some research that had nothing to do with Sean or his condition, and everything to do with the Winter Soldier.

Since the day he learned that he could speak Urdu, Justin had wracked his brain trying to bring out those earlier memories of his time with HYDRA. What he needed was something to remind him. A name, a scent or even a sound that would touch that place in his head he hadn't been able to reach. It didn't take long to locate possible answers to his dilemma.

The first candidate was Zahra Shahid Hussain, known as Zara Apa, a Pakistani activist-politician, teacher, and the senior vice president of Imran Khan's Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) in Sindh. She was killed in May of 2013 when she was ambushed by two people on a motorcycle. This event occurred on the eve of a highly contested partial rerun of the general election. The police stated officially that her death came during a robbery in which Hussain offered resistance to the snatching of her purse, a scenario that went against witness reports.

Number two came up as Farid Khan, a Pakistani politician who was elected to the Provincial Assembly of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in the 2013 general election. In June of that year, unidentified gunmen opened fire on Farid Khan's vehicle while he was travelling in Hangu. Khan died as a result of the attack, while his driver and guard sustained injuries.

And rounding out his research was Imran Khan Mohmand, a Pakistani politician who was elected as a member of the Provincial Assembly of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in 2013. He also died in June of 2013, during a bombing at a funeral in Mardan.

Had he killed one or all of them? And why? To do so, he would've had to be kept somewhere close by for more than two months, yet he remembered none of it. The most likely reason for their deaths was that they were a threat to HYDRA for their political views. All three lobbied against the Taliban and terrorism in general. Silencing the loudest voices would begin the march of chaos through Pakistan and her allies. And HYDRA thrived on creating chaos.

Justin was kicked out of the bed of self-loathing in which he was again wallowing when his phone beeped. Another text from Wanda.

 _Clint has picked me up. We will be there shortly. What is the name of the hotel?_

 _Warfield House Inn. Two rooms under your name. Have some fun with it_.

He knew that last would confuse her, and counted on Clint to clue her in. Sighing heavily, Justin

made the walk back to the room he shared with Sean and Bear, feeling like he was walking the last mile to the electric chair.

 **Rey's Condo**

 **The Next Morning**

Literally rolling out of bed, Rey picked up her phone on the way to the bathroom. After a healthy yawn, she accessed the text message from Chase, reading it several times, but that didn't make it any clearer.

She finished with the toilet, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face. Her pajamas hit the floor, and the shower came on.

~~O~~

Feeling much better after a hot shower, Rey carried her phone with her to the kitchen to start water for tea then padded back to the bedroom rubbing her hair with a towel. She tossed the towel on the foot of the bed and sat at the vanity to run a brush through her hair.

Her phone vibrated again, and Cleopatra jumped up to remind her. "I got it, Cleo. Don't be a nag." She accessed texts, going first to the one from Chase that she hadn't understood.

 _Don't know what's going on. Will get back to you ASAP_.

"Nope. Still doesn't make sense."

Going to the closet, Rey took out the oversized workout clothes she had taken to wearing to the studio. She wasn't able to teach classes, but as the owner, she had to be there. Lately, she'd been fielding offers from World of Fitness to purchase the studio, and turn it into another corporate cookie-cutter gym for the elite. At least that's how she saw it. "Guess I'll have to learn new ways to say no."

Another text came in, this one from Iris, and was no more informative than Chase's.

 _Chase will talk to Justin to find out if it's true. Just DON'T PANIC!_

"Panic? _Why_ would I panic?"

Rey slid into her sneakers, picked up the phone, and hustled to the kitchen to shut off the kettle. She turned on her laptop, and while it booted up, she fed Cleopatra and got out the breakfast she made the night before, though it could only be called breakfast because she was eating it in the morning. Beef broccoli from the Chinese place up the street wasn't really breakfast.

While her food was heating and the tea steeping, Rey checked email. Yet another one from World of Fitness. "Delete."

The next email gave more information, sort of. It was a news article with an accompanying photo of two men and a small girl eating lunch. Insets showed gold bands on the men's left hands. The caption made her jaw drop.

 _Ex-Ambiguous lead singer Sean Riggs having a post-nuptials nosh after marrying his ex-boyfriend, Justin Lockwood in an eleventh-hour courthouse wedding_.

The article quoted anonymous sources, and eye-witness accounts.

"Hmph. We all know how reliable _those_ are, right Cleo?" The cat jumped up on the chair next to Rey, waiting for a handout. Rey gave her a piece of beef, and went back to the article. The next photo was an out of focus screenshot of a marriage application. If she squinted, then yes, the name did look like Justin P. Lockwood, as did the signature.

The phone rang, and Rey immediately picked up. "I'm on my way, Margo."

" _Not Margo_."

"Chase. What the hell is going on? Why would online trolls be saying that Justin married his ex?"

In the background, Rey heard a door close, blocking out the noise of the club, and giving them privacy. If she had to guess, Iris was there, but no one else. " _The family's being hounded by every news agency in the US, and some from outside it, and I can't get in touch with Justin for confirmation_." Stunned, Rey didn't immediately respond. " _Rey? You still there?_ "

"You-you mean it's true? Justin got _married_?"

" _I'll find out and get back to you_."

The call ended, and Rey did exactly what Chase told her not to do: she panicked. Pushing away from the table, she ran to the front window and peeked out, relieved that there were no reporters on her front lawn. There was a good reason for that. Not many people knew that she and Justin had been a couple. No one who would rat her out for a few bucks or their fifteen minutes of fame.

Now she had one more thing to worry about. Justin said he loved her, he proposed, and wanted to have kids with her. If that was true, why did he marry someone else so suddenly?

 **The Riggs Family Home**

Sean blinked in the morning light, and sat up on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Sometime during the night, Bear had left the room. "Probably following Zoe around, getting in the way."

When he opened the door, the huge beast was blocking the way. He got up and huffed at Sean, pawing the air, begging for pets. "Your needs will have to wait, big guy. I gotta get to the potty."

Bear stayed with him to the bathroom and forced his way in when Sean would've locked him out. Sean took a seat, and the dog accepted the non-invitation to lay his head in his lap, looking up at him with a besotted expression. "Fine. We'll do this your way."

He gave Bear ear and neck rubs until he was done with his business. While Sean was washing his hands, the dog put his front paws on the counter. Like this, they were nearly the same height. Sean dried his hands and hung up the towel. "Come on, boy. Let's get dressed and go see what everyone else is doing."

As if Sean had offered to give him the world, Bear barked, and stayed at his side the entire time.

Feeling a little less like shit today than yesterday, Sean put his clothes on, and sat on the side of the bed to tie his shoes. So far, he hadn't experienced any dizziness or nausea. His stomach growled, and he headed for the kitchen. The house had a deserted feeling, like he and the dog were the only two home. He didn't see anyone, and when he looked out the front door, all the cars were gone, even the one Justin rented so the paparazzi couldn't follow them. "I feel pretty good today, Bear. I'm gonna eat, and afterwards, we can go for walkies."

In the kitchen, he found a note on the 'fridge door from Justin giving him a quick rundown of where they'd all gone. Joe had to go into the office to complete the filing of the will, Leanne had to take the day and travel to the restaurant in Chicago. Zoe had gone to a birthday party that had been planned for two months, and Justin's notation just said he had to go "out".

"Hmph. They didn't even say good-bye. Well, **** 'em. We'll be fine on our own." He tossed the note on the counter and opened the 'fridge. "My cooking skills are a little lax. Why don't we just warm up the leftovers?"

Sean took the foil wrapped dish out and set it on the counter. He took a clean plate from the drainer. "Leanne's pork chops with arugula pesto and roasted cauliflower is the best I've ever had. It wasn't _her_ fault my stomach was being a pisser last night."

He transferred a small serving of the leftovers to the plate and popped it in the microwave. "She'd have a fit if she knew I was using the microwave instead of the oven to reheat, so let's keep this between you and me."

Bear whined and bumped against Sean's side. "Okay. You can have some too." Sean pulled some of the pork off the bone and dropped it in his dish. "Not a word, pal. It's our little secret." The microwave dinged. He took the food out and sat at the island counter to eat, pausing between each bite just in case the nausea came back, and he had to run down the hall. He pulled out his bucket list, grabbed a pen from the cup by the mail basket, and crossed out all the names on his sex bucket list. "Never gonna happen, and not just because some of them are married, straight or in another country. Whatever let me get busy with Mia is gone. So, let's have a look at the rest of these."

Bear came back, flopping down next to his chair. Sean looked down at him. "Don't suppose you know how I can dance with Ginger Rogers, Martha Graham, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Bojangles Robinson all at the same time? Except for Mikhail, they're all gone." He drew a line through the names. "Too bad Ambiguous never toured the US. He's a citizen, you know."

The paper went back in his pocket with a sigh. "Better wash the dishes, or Leanne will have me tossed in the Graybar Inn." Bear whined in sympathy. If Sean didn't know better, he'd've thought the dog understood.

With the dishes done, he returned to the bedroom for his cap. Since his hair fell out, the paparazzi had left him alone. Of course, that could also be because he didn't dress the same way either. Plain jeans or khakis, sneakers, t-shirts, a warm jacket from Discount Mart instead of Eddie Bauer, North Face, Harley-Davidson, Double Rider, or any other high-end company that paid Ambiguous to wear their products on-stage and in public.

He'd only worn the fedora a few times. Not enough to have fans associate the look with him. That was another thing he and Zoe had in common. Hats were to keep your head warm in winter and should only be worn as part of a uniform the rest of the year. With the knit caps and beanies, Sean knew he didn't look like himself, even _to_ himself. Add all these elements together, and he could pretty much move freely. At least until the purchase of the wig and clothes yesterday. Then again, now that the public knew he was in South Bend, they'd be looking out for him.

Sean glanced down, reminded of his unique tattoo. "I should cover that up."

He and Bear went back to the bathroom, where he looked through all the cabinets and drawers, but didn't find what he was looking for. His next stop was the hall closet coming up empty again. That left only one place he might find what he was looking for.

Taking a deep breath, Sean knocked on his dad's bedroom door. As expected, there was no answer. He opened the door and hurried into the ensuite, wanting to get out as quickly as possible, and was rewarded for his boldness. He found a jar of concealer on the counter and wondered why Leanne would have it. Having seen her up close, he could tell that she still had flawless skin for a woman her age. There was no way his dad would wear make-up, so it _had_ to be hers.

He opened the jar and was surprised to see it was nearly new. Sean pushed his left sleeve up to the elbow, exposing the tattoo. Taking a cotton ball from the glass jar, he used it to dab the concealer on his arm until the tattoo was completely hidden. Experimentally, he rubbed over the area, surprised when the substance didn't come off. "Wow. Great stuff."

Back in his room, Sean picked out a beanie that looked like nothing he would wear and pulled it on. He'd planned on wearing the wig, so he could get used to it, but then he might be seen, and didn't want anyone to know where he was staying, or they'd be camped on his father's doorstep. But then, after his visit to Zoe's school, that could happen anyway.

Sean shrugged into his jacket, zipped the front, and called out, "Bear! Walkies!"

He expected the dog to come running, and when he didn't, Sean went looking for him. He found the huge animal sitting by the front door with his leash in his mouth. Bending down, he rubbed his furry head and neck. "Good boy." He attached the leash, pocketed the extra key, and left the house, choosing a direction at random. "Not too fast now, boy. Slow and steady wins the race."

~~O~~

What Sean didn't see was the woman and two men sitting in a non-descript four-door sedan two houses away, skootched down so that only the tops of their heads could be seen.

The man behind the wheel exhaled in relief. "That was close. He almost caught us."

Sitting in the middle of the back seat, the second man shook his head ruefully. "What'd I say about leaving spy business to the spies?"

Wanda crossed her arms and turned to look at him. "You are _not_ a spy, Clint. Not the same as Mother."

"I do okay. Not so much since I became an Avenger. Spend more time on the farm, at the winery and doing renovations than going on missions. But you never lose it. Like riding a bike."

"Hmph," Wanda huffed at him. "It was _your_ idea to stand outside and watch him through the window rather than my idea of just knocking on the door and asking to come inside."

Justin buckled his seatbelt and started the car. "This is _me_ ending this conversation. We'll follow Sean for a while, at a safe distance. If he seems okay after your 'treatment', we'll go get something to eat."

Clint stared out the window at the scenery. "What the hell is there to do in this town anyway?"

Taking out her phone, Wanda did an internet search. "In summer, there's fishing, camping, strolling along the Riverwalk, swimming, kayaking. In fall, there's concerts, museums, plays, golf. For winter, sledding, skating, and sleigh rides when it snows."

Clint chuckled, and wagged a finger. "You misunderstood the question. I meant something _fun_ to do. That all sounds like too much work, or just plain boring."

At the corner, Justin stopped so they could watch Sean and Bear without being seen. "It's South Bend, Indiana, Clint, not LA or New York or even D.C. The most exciting thing they have going for them here is Notre Dame football." Their quarry turned the corner, and they followed. "By the way, new rule: back seat drivers will be ejected into the St. Joseph River."

"Not like it hasn't happened before, so do your worst, kid."

"What about my _best_ instead?"

Wanda craned her neck, keeping Sean in sight. "What do you mean?"

Grinning, Justin stopped the car when Sean and Bear entered the dog park. He unhooked the leash, and Bear took off like a shot, running around, and barking at the birds, squirrels and other dogs. "Zoe asked Sean to visit her school. Want to exercise those rusty spy skills, Clint?"

His aunt looked excited, bouncing in her seat. "Could _I_ be a spy too? What will we do?"

Justin looked at Wanda and caught Clint's eyes in the mirror. "We talk about it at lunch. But first, I have to make a few phone calls."

 **Riggs, Mayville, Noeding & ****Wawrzyniak Attorneys at Law**

Sitting behind his L-shaped distressed Cherrywood desk, Joe read over his son's will one more time. This was what he did, his life's work, finding flaws in contracts, wills, witness testimony, and much more. If an attempt to trick or deceive had been inserted into the words laid out before him, Joe would find it.

But try as he might, Joe couldn't see what had to be in front of his eyes. When Sean and Justin announced their marriage, he was certain that it had been Justin's idea, and that he'd done it to gain control of Sean's assets. Yet here, in black and white, it said otherwise.

There was a knock at the door, and Joe's assistant, an over-eager legal intern who was in his first year of law school, came in. "Mrs. Hurshman's on the phone again. You _really_ need to speak to her, and soon."

"Well, Othelia Hurshman can wait. My son is more important to me than she or anyone else will ever be."

Perry perched on the corner of the desk. "Still sussing out the new husband's motives?"

Joe looked at him over the rims of his glasses, and back to the key. "I am. This is Justin's inheritance. Why would he marry someone who will most likely be dead long before their first anniversary, if it wasn't for the money?"

"What's it go to? The key."

"A company that specializes in storing and maintaining classic cars."

The intern picked up the key. "What's in this one?"

Joe smiled and closed the file. "Only one of _the_ coolest classic sports cars to ever lay rubber to asphalt." He tapped the key with a finger. "That simple piece of metal will give the owner access to a 1966 Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto. And when my son dies, it will belong to his new husband."

"And _you_ think there's more to it than just another car that enthusiasts dream of when they go to sleep at night?"

"There is. I just haven't found it yet, but I will. There is no ******* way Justin Lockwood is getting away with conning my son." Joe looked up at Perry, his voice going cold. "I'll see him in prison first."

 **TBC**

A Shirley Temple is a non-alcoholic mixed drink traditionally made with ginger ale and a splash of grenadine, garnished with a maraschino cherry. Modern Shirley Temple recipes may substitute lemon-lime soda or lemonade and sometimes orange juice in part, or in whole. Temple herself was not a fan of the drink, stating that it too sweet.

 **Zahra Shahid Hussain -** According to police, Hussain was ambushed by two people on a motorcycle. Her murder took place on the eve of a highly contested partial rerun of the general election. According to a witness, "The assailants opened fire…as soon as she reached the gate of her residence. Apparently, they were there to target her only." An eyewitness said that she had handed the attackers her belongings, but they shot her even then. Another report from Dawn News said that "[a]ccording to police, three motorcycle riders tried to steal Hussain's handbag and opened fire ' _upon resistance_ '." This report attributed the "handed [the purse] over" report to PTI leader Firdous Shamim.

PTI leader Imran Khan blamed Altaf Hussain, the London-based leader of Karachi's dominant Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM) party for her murder. The MQM chief a few days earlier had used threatening language saying his party workers would teach protesters at Teen Talwar a lesson if he ordered them to do so. Altaf Hussain also threatened to harm those who were hatching conspiracies against MQM and said, "I am about to set free my enraged followers if opposition against our party is not stopped."

 **Farid Khan** \- He was assassinated on June 3, 2013 in Hangu. On 3 June 2013, unidentified gunmen opened fire on Farid Khan's vehicle while he was travelling in Hangu. Khan died as a result of the attack, while his driver and guard sustained injuries. Soon after the attack, security forces conducted a joint operation and arrested a local TTP commander in Hangu. On 25 June 2013, police arrested a suspect named Asifullah in Islamabad who confessed to killing Farid Khan. According to police, Asifullah had been imparted terrorism training for four years.

 **Imran Khan Mohmand** \- On June 18, 2013, he died during a bombing at a funeral in Mardan. The attack was possibly an assassination. He was the second member of the newly elected Khyber Pakhtunkhwa assembly to be killed, following the targeted assassination of Farid Khan weeks earlier.


	128. Chapter 128

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 128**

 **Sunshine Pilates Studio**

 **Rey's Office**

Immediately upon arrival at the studio, Rey sequestered herself in the office to catch up on paperwork, but here she sat, thinking instead. She wanted to call Justin, but they'd agreed not to have contact until he was truly ready for their relationship to go forward. Now, that wouldn't happen because he was married to someone else. Sure, she'd known about his ex, Sean Riggs, and his band, Ambiguous. They weren't as well known in the US as in Europe and Asia. She liked their music, but it wasn't her favorite. While they were dating, Justin would always change the station when one of their songs came on.

If they were over long before Justin and she met, why are they now married? The news trolls mentioned that Sean had left the band because of drug and alcohol addiction, but with everything Justin told her about him, she didn't believe it. There had to be another reason he dropped out. However, if she couldn't talk to Justin, how could she find out the truth?

Rey picked up the phone, and put it down again. "Can't call him on his honeymoon, idiot. I'm sure he'll call and explain soon. You just have to be patient." She accessed the article on her work computer, and sat staring at the photo from the restaurant. "And who is that girl? No one seems to know."

 _Pot, kettle, black_ , her conscience teased.

Rubbing a hand over her swollen belly, she rolled her eyes. "You're right. Fair is fair. He doesn't know you're having a baby, but then, neither does Harry. It's also something you don't tell the baby-daddy over text, email or phone, unless you're together." That hand joined the other covering her eyes. "Your life is a _mess_ , Medina."

 **Streetwise Subs and More**

 **Mishawaka, Indiana**

"…yes, but…" Rolling his eyes at Chase's never-ending rant, Justin waited patiently for him to take a breath. "Look, Chase…" He should've known that anyone who could hold his breath under water as long as his twin could would be a champ at ranting. Not that it hadn't happened before. Justin had apparently blocked it all out.

" _Hey! Give it back!_ "

Justin tuned in at Chase's exclamation that wasn't directed toward him.

" _Justin, this is Iris. Please, continue. Tell us again why you married your ex without telling anyone_."

Relieved, Justin marshalled his thoughts. "At last, the voice of reason. Have I told you how glad I am that you're marrying my brother?"

" _No. And you're changing the subject_."

"Okay. Short version. No one, especially the press, can know this." He waited for her agreement, and got it. "Sean has cancer. The doctors gave him six months to a year, but he's not going to last that long."

There was a long pause. What he said must've shown on Iris's face because Chase was quizzing her. " _Shut_ _up_ _, Chase! I'm sorry to hear that, Justin. Is that why…"_

There was more ranting from Chase. "Iris, put me on speaker… Shut the **** up, Chase, and _listen_ for a change. I did it because it was the right thing to do. He's happy now, and has finally accepted that his life is almost over. He knows that I married him because he was dying, and he's fine with it. I wanted his last days to be filled with family and friends, and for him to know that he's cared for. And yes, I _do_ still love him, just not the way he wants me to. Marrying him was the best way I could say it without really saying it."

Silence came through the line, and Justin was about to hang up when Chase spoke. " _Okay, yeah. I get it. Sorry I yelled. Um, have you called Mom and Dad, Joi, or Serenity?_ "

"Talked to Mom and Dad. _Man_ , that did _not_ go well. Dad hung up in the middle of Mom's rant. _Joi_ called _me_. Serenity and Collin are the only ones I haven't spoken to. Not counting my boss or my friends."

" _I tried calling Serenity and Collin too when I heard. Went to voice mail every time. I'll keep trying, and clue them in. What about Rey? She's already seen the news. You might want to explain it to her as well, you know, since you're in love with her and all. Um, you_ _are_ _still in love with her?_ "

"Of course, I still love Rey. More than my own life." Hanging his head, Justin sighed loud enough for Iris and Chase to hear. "Would you talk to her for me? Things are really crazy here now. She and I aren't talking right now. I know it's more important than anything else, but I just can't do it. Not yet. She'll understand."

Iris came on again. " _You have a_ _lot_ _to learn about women, pal_."

"You're right, but then Rey is my first heterosexual relationship that lasted longer than a bowl of ice cream on a hot day." Wanda came out of the restaurant and just stood there. "I gotta go. You, uh, might see more of Sean and me in the news next week. This time, it's deliberate. _Ciao_ , _bambini_!"

Justin hung up before Chase and Iris could respond, turned off his phone, and got out of the car. As he approached, Wanda smiled. "How did it go?"

"Mom is fit to be _tied_ because it's the third time this year she's been cheated-her word-out of a real wedding-her word again. Joi and Steve think it's a great idea, though they seemed distracted. Iris is okay with it. Chase isn't, but they both understand. Couldn't get in touch with Serenity and Collin. Chase'll tell them for me. All that's left are my cousins who live out of state."

"What about Mia?"

Pursing his lips in thought, Justin crossed his arms. "That's the weirdest. Mia said she was happy for me, but at the same time, I got the feeling she was pissed." He looked down at the ground, poking at a rock with his toe. "I need you to do something for me. You may find it highly embarrassing, if not scandalous. Clint will drive you. Just don't tell him why."

"As I said, I will do what I can. This is about Sean."

" _Da_." Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, and what he said startled her enough that she pushed him away with a hand in the middle of his chest. "Can do?"

Wanda gave him time to spring the punchline of his joke, but he said nothing while waiting for her reply. " _Can_ do. _Will_ do?"

"Ethics?"

Immediately, Wanda shook her head. It was true that his request, and all that had gone before in regards to Sean, had skirted moral boundaries. This would mean sticking a toe over that line. His request wasn't for himself though some would take it that way, and she knew for certain it was only for Sean's benefit that he asked it of her. Reluctantly, she nodded. "I will do it. I must be close by as it will not last longer than perhaps an hour. Text me ten minutes before you're ready."

Justin's smile made everything she'd done worth the worry. He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, auntie."

He opened the door and followed Wanda through the diner to the table where Clint was waiting. He had ordered them all drinks. To keep himself amused, he'd folded a stack of paper napkins into airplanes, which he was tossing at the kid three booths down. Justin scooted into the booth, letting Wanda have the outside seat. "Put those away, Clint. We have plans to make."

"Took you long enough to get back, Lockwood."

Justin removed the paper cover from his straw, balled it up and threw it at Clint. "I've had enough of being ragged on to last me a while, so can it." He stuck the straw in his drink, and took a long sip. "We need to plan this thing for Tuesday."

Clint didn't respond to the tone in his voice, for which he was thankful. Wanda merely sipped her drink, and waited for the emotions to calm down. A server came by with their sandwiches and sides, set them on the table, and left again without a word.

They busied themselves with their food for a few minutes. Clint opened a bag of chips, and crunched several, wiped his mouth, and turned over the placemat he'd written on. "Wanda and I talked it over, and here's what we've come up with…"

~~O~~

At the hotel, Clint left Wanda and Justin to go to his own room. He knew they would need to speak alone at some point, and Wanda thanked him with a smile. Before she could decide what to address first, Justin got up and went to look out the patio window at the view of the parking lot.

"I know you think it's sneaky and underhanded, what you're doing to Sean, but…"

"What _I_ think does not matter. As you said, he does not have many days left, and if he is happy for the short time, it is my privilege to do that for him."

Justin turned abruptly, letting the curtain fall back into place. " _Days_?"

She breathed deeply and nodded. "I did not tell you before because it didn't seem to matter, but now…"

"But he's supposed to have months or at least weeks. Was it…"

"My interference was not the cause. Without it, he still would be gone soon. Mother tells me that doctors give their best guess based on past experience, studies of groups of people with the same or similar diagnosis, combined with the person's medical history, age, and so forth. When they say six months to a year, it could be more, or it could be less."

Justin went back to the window. She wished he would turn around so she could see his face. "So it's just a rough estimate." His hand clenched on the curtain, sending a wave of helplessness in her direction without meaning to.

"While I am here, I can… the best way to describe it is that I will transfer energy to his organs so they will continue to function close to their normal levels. But it will not work forever. I'm sorry."

So quickly, she barely saw, Justin was sitting beside her on side of the bed. "Don't be sorry. You're doing great. You just need to keep him going until after Thanksgiving. I don't want his family to think of it as the day Sean died, but as the best damn Thanksgiving they ever had because they're a family again."

Wanda gripped his hand, and Justin finally smiled. "Then it will be done. As his time gets closer, I will need to be nearby, within touching distance."

"Then all we have to do is figure out a good reason for you to be here instead of at home."

His comment gave her an idea. She just had to get rid of him so she could make a call. As if she'd caused it, his phone beeped. He looked at the message. "Gotta go, auntie. The ol' ball and chain wants to know when I'm coming home."

"I don't… never mind. I will look it up." Wanda went with Justin to the door, giving him a long hug before he left. As soon as the door closed, she took out her phone. "Mother. Are Father and Pietro there?"

" _Your father wasn't kidding about turning the den into a nursery. He's in there now taking his computer apart so he can move it upstairs. Pietro has gone to the park with his friends when he should be cleaning out the cat's boxes and keeping an eye on Dexter. Plus, he has your chores in addition to his own to do while you're gone. Why do you ask?_ "

As Justin had done before, she went to the patio doors and pulled the curtain back to look out. "I have an idea I would like to present, just to get your thoughts on the… I believe Clint would call it the logistics of carrying out this operation."

Natasha's footsteps padded across the carpet, and soon Wanda could hear Bucky swearing in the background. " _You're on speaker. Go ahead_."

"How would you like to spend Thanksgiving with your in-laws?"

~~O~~

Sitting in the parking lot of the hotel, Justin felt a wave of guilt that came from that place inside where the love he had for Rey stayed. Despite the no-contact agreement, he felt it was only right that he talk to her face to face about Sean. However, that wasn't possible, and who knew when he'd be home again?

Scrolling his contact list, Justin dialed before he lost his nerve.

A sleepy voice answered. " _Mmm. Hello?_ "

Though he would deny it, Justin's stomach did a little flip at hearing her sleepy morning voice, all warm and soft and cuddly, like a super soft blanket on a cold morning. "Rey? It's Justin."

" _Oh! Oh, my gosh! Justin!_ " He smiled, picturing her coming fully awake like a Pop Tart from a toaster. " _Um, oh, uh, gimme a sec._ " There was fumbling around in the background, and Cleopatra meowing, accompanied by footsteps on the carpet as she went into the bathroom to pee. Most wouldn't have heard that and the water running, but he did. Then, she was back. " _I'm here. What's up?_ "

Her attempt to inject curiosity into her voice failed miserably. "You _know_ what's up, Rey. Chase said he talked to you. First, I want to apologize for not calling you sooner. You really should've been my first call after my parents."

" _Hmph. I'll think about accepting, if you tell me_ _why_ _you didn't?_ "

"I was scared. We haven't talked to or seen each other in weeks. Didn't know if you'd believe my side of the story."

The bed creaked as she sat down and swung her legs up under the covers with a grunt. " _Why wouldn't I?_ "

"Dunno." Justin let himself breathe for a moment. "My family knows, but you can't tell anyone else. Promise?"

" _Justin, please, tell me what's going on?_ "

Taking that as a yes, Justin gathered his thoughts. "Sean's dying."

~~O~~

Stunned, Rey put her hand on Cleopatra's side, taking a small bit of comfort from the rumble of her purrs. "Really? There's nothing on the news about it."

" _Because he wants it kept secret, and I agree. If the news agencies knew, he and his family would be hounded even more. I just want his last days to be as peaceful as possible_."

The background noise let he know he was sitting in his car. Probably so Sean wouldn't hear their conversation. "I won't say anything. You have my word."

" _Thanks. So, uh, how you been?_ "

Rey rubbed her swollen belly with a rueful smile. "I've been better." Now was her chance. All she had to do was say two words, and it would done. "Justin, I-"

" _What? You can tell me anything_."

 _Yeah, not this, I can't. Not on the phone_. "It's nothing that can't wait. Any idea when you'll be home?"

The stress that had been present in his voice eased off with a long sigh. " _Not sure. When I get home, could we have coffee? This hasn't been easy, Rey. Sean, my family, not being able to see you. And I really need to see you, and soon._ "

Crossing her fingers, Rey lied. "Sure. Call me whenever you need a shoulder."

" _I will. Next time, we'll video chat_." There was another long pause. " _Rey?_ "

"Yeah?" A siren blasted her eardrums, forcing Rey to hold the phone away for a moment.

Justin waited until it passed to say what was on his mind. " _I love you. No matter what hear about Sean and me, just remember that I love you_."

Tears welled up in her eyes. One made a track down her cheek, and she wiped it way with the heel of her hand. "I love you too, Justin."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Natasha and Bucky sat on the sofa together, both lost in thought. Bucky put his arm around Natasha's shoulders, pulling her close. "You should call Carolyn and Martin. It'll sound more spontaneous coming from her father."

Bucky got up and went to the desk, searching for his phone among the disassembled computer parts. He found it, and turned to look at her, exasperation and frustration on his features. "I was hoping that just this once, our family could have a normal holiday like most people have. Turkey, stuffing, all the trimmings, watch some football, and go into a food coma. But no," he waved his hands in the air as he paced, "this is the Barnes family. We don't do normal and haven't for a long time." Facing the closet, Bucky stopped abruptly, and turned around. "Crap! We were supposed to go to Steve's this year."

Getting to her feet, Natasha eased his agitation by touching him on the cheek. _Works every time_ , she thought smugly. "Relax. Steve and Joi will understand."

The phone rang before he could answer. He looked at the caller ID. "It's Carolyn. Wish me luck."

Natasha left the den to give him privacy, leaving the door cracked in case he needed her. In the laundry room, she took clothes from the dryer and transferred the wet close from the washer. Or should have, except she could no longer reach those in the bottom.

Turning to the side so her belly was out of the way, she rose up on tiptoe, bent to the left, and stretched, but still could only touch them with her fingertips. Grunting in frustration, she got out the step stool. She had a foot on the bottom step when Bucky came looking for her.

He rushed toward her, yelling, "Stop! What the hell are you doing?"

Blowing the hair out of her face, she looked over her shoulder, but didn't step down. "I can't reach the clothes in the bottom."

As she bent forward, Bucky stopped her. "Let me do that before you fall."

"I won't fall," Natasha protested, but did as he asked. "It seems like every day there's something I can't do or reach or wear."

She wanted to slap him when he laughed. "That's how it works when you're pregnant, my love." He added the clothes he fished out of the washer, added them to the dryer, and turned it on. When she would've picked up the basket, he beat her to it, trailing behind her to the living room.

The basket hit the floor in front of the sofa, and they took seats with it between them so they could fold the clothes. "Carolyn and Martin have already made plane and hotel reservations to go to South Bend. Their hotel still has rooms, if you don't mind staying in the same one."

Natasha mated a pair of socks, tossed them between her and Bucky, and reached for more to match and mate. "Not at all. What about the other suspects?"

"I sent them all a text. Steve, Joi and Alice are staying here. Mia's doing the same. Chase and Iris are staying behind to get the club ready for their All Day Black Friday Party. Everyone else has plans with their family on the other side. Pietro hasn't answered yet, and no one can get in touch with Collin and Serenity."

While Bucky continued to mate the socks, Natasha folded his boxers. "It won't matter what he wants. He's coming whether he likes it or not." The front door opened and slammed, at the same time the papers on the coffee table fluttered, and Pietro was sitting next to Natasha. The scent of grass and dirt and sweat turned her stomach. "O-oh…"

Before she could say a word, Pietro had her in the downstairs bathroom.

~~O~~

Pietro sat on the sofa. "Will she be over being sick soon?"

Bucky waggled his hand. "Maybe. Maybe not. Oh! That reminds me." He took out his phone and called Bruce. "It's James. We're planning a last minute trip for Thanksgiving. Is it safe for Tasha to fly?"

" _There shouldn't be a problem. I could come by and do a quick exam, just to ease her mind_."

" _Her_ mind doesn't need easing. It's me who's being a fathead." Bucky nodded for Pietro to go check on Natasha. "It's a miracle that Tasha's pregnant at all. I just don't want anything to go wrong, Bruce, you know?"

In the background, he heard Bruce moving around the lab. At least he assumed it was the lab. " _I can be there in a couple of hours. That okay with you? I'll even bring dinner._ "

"Great. See you then." He hung up just as Natasha came back into the room.

Pietro jumped up so she could have his place. He would've sat next to her again, but she waved him away. "No offense, my son, but would you please go shower before I get sick again?" Without responding, their son took off, and a second later, they heard the shower come on in the upstairs bathroom. "Would you make me some tea, please?"

"For you, my wife, anything." From the kitchen, Bucky called out, "By the way, I asked Bruce to come by and have a look at you before we take this trip."

" _I'm_ _fine_ _, James_."

Bucky didn't like the tone of her voice. "Humor me then. Oh, and he's bringing dinner. Hope you're hungry. Babe?"

The bathroom door slammed again. He tried to ignore the sound of retching, and found it wasn't as easy now as it had been when Connie was pregnant. The kettle whistled. He grabbed it to stop the noise from bothering Natasha, poured it over her favorite ginger and lemon tea, added a touch of honey, gave it a stir, and carried it out to the living room.

His lovely wife came back a few minutes later, sat down without speaking, and picked up the cup. She pulled the bag out and set it on the edge of the saucer. As she brought the cup to her lips, she murmured, "You're lucky I love you, or I'd _kill_ you for doing this to me."

Bucky believed her. He gathered the clothes, dropped them in the basket and ran up the stairs. At the top, he met Pietro coming out of the bathroom. His hair was wet, and he had on clean clothes. Keeping his voice low, Bucky whispered, "I wouldn't go down there. She is _not_ a happy mommy."

"Why would you say that?"

Bucky peeked over the railing. His wife was still sipping her tea as if she hadn't a care in the world. "She threatened to _kill_ me."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Natasha said, " _I can hear you-u-u!_ "

"But I must go downstairs. I have chores to complete. After that, I am taking the cats into the back yard to play in the grass. This will be Dexter's first time," his son stated proudly.

Glad of another topic to occupy their minds, Bucky patted him on the shoulder with a smile. "Nice. Take a video to show Justin when you see him."

"Do you know when he will be home?"

"Not for a while yet." Going to his bedroom door, Bucky opened it while holding the basket under his left arm. "We're spending Thanksgiving in Indiana with Justin and Sean's family. We have reservations for Tuesday evening so we can get to know Sean's family before dinner on Thursday."

Pietro appeared in front of him. "But who will watch the cats?"

"Hmm. Good question."

Again, Natasha's voice floated up to them. " _I'm calling Steve now_."

Shrugging sheepishly and grinning, Bucky pushed the bedroom door all the way open. "See? Any time you need a quick solution to a problem, ask your mother. Now get to work. We're having company for dinner."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

Sean watched Justin get out of the rental car and walk towards him. There was something in his eyes that Sean couldn't define, as if he were happy yet sad at the same time. "Where've you been all day?"

"'Hi, Justin. I missed you'." Justin said, imitating Sean's voice. His smile came back. "Getting everything ready for Tuesday. I'll tell you about it after dinner."

Because he sounded sincere, Sean believed him. He stopped Justin with a hand on his arm. Though they were alone, he glanced over his shoulder for confirmation. "Dad's got a bug up his ass about something. Won't say what, not even to Leanne."

"Probably thinks I married you for your money."

They went into the living room and sat on the sofa together. "You and I both know better."

The den door opened, and Justin got a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Before Sean could do more than take a breath, Justin was kissing him the way he used to when they were making out in the back row of the movies. Sean let himself enjoy it until his dad cleared his throat. Reluctantly, Justin pulled away. He winked and grinned as he turned around. "Sorry, Joe. We haven't seen each other all day."

Joe's eyes widened slightly when, with just that grin and the tone of his voice, Justin gave him the impression that they'd been sleeping together in the biblical sense.

For his part, Joe elected to ignore what he'd seen. "Leanne and Zoe will be home soon. We were wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner to celebrate."

Sean pushed off the sofa and went to stand in front of Joe. "That's kind of you, Dad, but I spent all day at the park with the beast, and I'm kinda tired. Is that Italian place still over on Market Street?"

"It is. The owner retired a few years ago. His son runs it now. I take it you'd prefer to have something delivered."

"If you don't mind." Sean gestured down the hall. "I'm gonna get a nap. Call me when it's here?"

Joe nodded, and Sean left him and Justin alone. At the bedroom door, he waited and listened for his father to confront Justin, but there was nothing. They didn't acknowledge each other in any way. _All these years, and you're still an_ _ass_ _, Dad. Couldn't just take my word, could you?_

 **Later That Night**

Pushing at Bear to get more room for his feet, Sean turned onto his side facing the door and tugged the blanket up around his chest. He had just drifted off to sleep when he came awake when Bear jumped off the bed. Relieved, he stretched out his legs to ease the stiffness.

He was disturbed again when the bed bounced. "For God's sake, Bear. _Light_ somewhere, will ya?" A hand touched his chest, turning him onto his back.

"Sean."

Growling, Sean punched the pillow to keep from doing the same to Justin. "Dammit, Beeb! First the mutt and now you. How's a guy supposed to get some sleep?"

Justin stood, and even in the dark, Sean could see him smiling. "That's the idea, Chipmunk. _Not_ sleeping."

"Wha-what are you talking about?"

His pajama shirt came off and was tossed it away. "You and me, _not_ sleeping together." Justin sat next to him again, his fingers brushing over Sean's cheek.

Taken aback, he gripped the top edge of the covers and brought them up to his neck as if they were a shield. "We're already _not_ sleeping together."

Justin chuckled. "Very funny. It's time we consummated this marriage."

Sean felt Justin's hand snake under the covers to touch him on the thigh, squeezing lightly. But he didn't stop there, quickly making his intent known. He gasped at the feel of Justin's hand in places they hadn't been in years, and to his surprise, his body responded. "Oh! Um, I don't think… A-are you sure you want to…"

Justin stopped his objection with a kiss. Without separating their mouths, he crawled under the covers, and that was the last Sean remembered for some time.

 **Morning**

The bedroom door opened, and Sean padded down the hall to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he showed up in the kitchen singing under his breath.

 _Ah! Sweet mystery of life at last I've found thee_

 _Ah! I know at last the secret of it all_

Justin poured a cup of tea, put it in his hand to shut him up, and went back to making breakfast. He jumped when Sean slapped him on the ass. He looked over his shoulder, and Sean winked. "Morning, sunshine."

"Morning. Think you can eat something?"

Sean took a seat at the bar counter. "I think I can." He sipped the tea and set the cup on the counter. "Did last night really happen?"

Justin tossed a smirk over his shoulder. "Maybe it was just an incredibly…" he scooped an omelet onto a plate, and turned to set it in front of Sean, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning, "… _vivid_ dream."

Picking up the fork, Sean cut a piece. "Either way, it seemed real enough, so I choose to believe it did." He popped the bite in his mouth.

"Well, you better wipe that stupid grin off your face before your dad comes out, or he'll think I've been taking advantage of you." Justin joined Sean at the counter, his plate holding an omelet twice the size of Sean's. "Has Zoe told you what songs to do yet?"

Sean swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Her favorites plus. We can't do them all of course. I'd say three, maybe four."

"Agreed." Bear came to sit between them, and Justin gave him a chunk of egg. "My family's coming for Thanksgiving. Mom and Dad want to meet the in-laws. Gramps, Nat, Wanda and Pietro will be here too."

"Oh. Wow."

If Justin didn't know better, he'd've thought Sean didn't want his family to be here. "That a problem?"

He shook his head. "Leanne loves cooking for big family gatherings. I'll give her a call."

"Great. Now eat up, Chipmunk. We're spending the whole day together, just you and me." Justin gave Sean a quick cuddle. "To make up for not being around yesterday. It's our honeymoon, after all. And if you behave, maybe later, I'll use the Lockwood magic wand on you again."

Sean did a spit-take. Justin patted his back, and passed him a napkin.

 **Spring Gardens Academy**

 **A Private Elementary School**

 **Tuesday**

The class was supposed to be reading quietly, but Zoe couldn't concentrate. Sean said he'd _be_ here today, but didn't say when. The bell rang, and the students streamed out of their classrooms as if someone had said, "Fire!"

Zoe put her books in the locker and was swept along with her classmates toward the cafeteria. Those in front of her stopped suddenly, whispering and pointing, while the teachers blocked the way. She pushed to the front, her mouth dropping open.

The cafeteria had been rearranged like one of those all-you-can-eat restaurants, and the food was nothing like what they normally were fed. At one end, a keyboard, guitar, amplifiers and microphones were set up. She tiptoed, trying to see Sean and Justin, but could only see teachers and the cafeteria staff.

The teachers finally let them in.

"Find seats, kids. Let's go," the principal told them as she came into the room, clapping her hands to hurry them along. Zoe hated when that happened, and wanted to move even slower as a protest.

But before all the kids could find seats, the ones closest to the window shouted, "Hey, what's that?"

Casting a quick glance at the principal, who didn't seem fazed at all, Zoe ran to the window. She stood on a chair to get a look, and saw a long black limousine pulling up to the front of the school by the flagpole. Her mouth dropped open again when a man got out from behind the wheel, and went to open the back door.

First to emerge was a young woman with long hair in pigtails, braided and pinned in a loop. She wore a short black skirt with chains hanging in a V pattern in the front, a black top that looked torn and you could see a dark red shirt through it, black leggings, black high-heel boots with buckles, and a red jacket that matched the shirt. She was wearing jewelry, but Zoe couldn't see it well. The driver held her hand until she was on the sidewalk then tipped his hat as a man got out.

This guy had on dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt under a blue t-shirt with long sleeves that pulled tight across his chest, boots that looked like the ones soldiers wore, and a dark brown leather jacket. His hair was slicked back, and he hadn't shaved in a while.

A second man got out, and she knew immediately it was Sean because he was wearing the clothes they bought the day he and Justin got married. That meant the other guy had to be Justin though it didn't really look like him. All three were wearing super-dark sunglasses.

The woman hooked her hand around Sean's arm. _Who_ _is_ _she?_ Zoe wondered while around her, the other kids speculated on who they were. By now, the principal had stepped outside. She greeted them, they shook hands all around, and visitor's badges were passed out. They were conducted inside, and a few minutes later, the doors opened, and all four stepped inside.

Unable to contain her excitement, Zoe again pushed her way through, crossing the cafeteria at a run, shouting, "Sean!"

A big smile lit up his face, making him look less like he was sick, and more the way he did in the photos Dad had shown her. He dropped to one knee, both arms open. "Zoe!"

Sean's arms held her tight, and to her even greater surprise, he was able to pick her up. He whispered in her ear, and put her down, keeping hold of her hand.

The principal came up next to her, speaking to the students. "As you can see, we have guests today. Want to introduce them, Zoe?"

Tugging Sean behind her, Zoe stepped out in front. Her classmates were staring wide-eyed, and for once, they were silent. "Everybody, this is my brother, Sean." She looked up, loving him more now than the day he agreed to this visit. "He's a _rock star_."

 **TBC**

 _Naughty Marietta_ is an operetta in two acts, with libretto by Rida Johnson Young and music by Victor Herbert. Set in New Orleans in 1780, it tells how Captain Richard Warrington is commissioned to unmask and capture a notorious French pirate calling himself "Bras Piqué", and how he is helped and hindered by a high-spirited runaway, Contessa Marietta. The score includes many well-known songs, including "Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life (The Dream Melody)".


	129. Chapter 129

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 129**

Holding Zoe close, Sean whispered in her ear, "Just go along with anything we say." As he put her down, their eyes met, and he knew she understood.

The principal moved up next to them. "As you can see, we have guests today. Want to introduce them, Zoe?"

Tugging Sean behind her, Zoe stepped out in front. Her classmates were staring wide-eyed, and for once, they were silent. "Everybody, this is my brother, Sean." She looked up with affection. "He's a _rock star_."

The obvious pride in her voice straightened Sean's back and shoulders. "Hi, kids. My name is Sean Riggs." He waited out the shouting. "How many of you have heard of the band Ambiguous?" A few of the hands went up. "I'm the one who started Ambiguous, and until a couple of weeks ago, I was the lead singer and lead guitar. Now, I'm here." He indicated each of the others. "With me today is my bodyguard, Finn, my lovely assistant and spiritual advisor, Wanda, the guy who makes sure we get where we need to be on time, Clint." With genuine affection, he put a hand around Zoe's shoulder. "And you all know my little sister, Zoe."

The kids applauded, and Sean waved them silent. "Okay, everyone find a seat. No pushing, no fighting, no screaming." They scrambled to the tables with a minimum of fuss. "We had caterers bring in food, so when you get the go ahead from one of the adults, help yourself. Then, after we eat, we'll get set up, and do a few songs. Would you like that?"

Again, the kids cheered, louder this time. Clint leaned in to whisper, "Kids are for anything that doesn't involve school work."

Sean looked down at Zoe. "Where do you usually sit?"

The girl dragged him to a table where four other kids were already sitting. They all looked up at Sean with awe. A boy his sister's age spoke up. "Are you _really_ her brother?"

"I'm _really_ her brother. We have the same dad."

They all looked disappointed, and one of the girls said, "Oh. You're only a _half_ -brother."

Sean scoffed. "In our family, we don't believe in half _anything_. She's my _sister_ , and I'm her _brother_. Same as Jessie and Vinnie." The kids had the good sense to be embarrassed at their tactless remarks. To comfort him, Wanda tucked her hand around his elbow with a smile but didn't say anything. Clint and Justin brought extra chairs. "Mind if we share your table?"

There was a chorus of agreement, and everyone made room. Sean took off his jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and claimed the seat on the end, with Wanda on one side, and Zoe on the other. As he passed, Clint leaned down. "This is the _cool_ table now." He and Justin took spots at the other end.

All during the meal, Wanda would touch his leg under the table or his arm to draw his attention to something. He smiled back, and continued eating, amazed that there was very little nausea today. Every so often, he would catch Clint watching him, and began to wonder just who he really was. He wasn't tall, five-nine at most. When standing near him, Sean sensed a calm, almost serene temperament underneath the scary resting bitch face. At the same time, he instinctively knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to make an enemy out of him. When the children spoke, he listened to what they had to say, and didn't talk down to them like many adults who didn't have children of their own would.

When the meal was over, he excused himself to go down the hall. After using the facilities, he stood at the sink to wash his hands, gripping the sides as a sudden wave of dizziness came over him. "Dammit! Not now. _Please_ not now."

He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, holding each one for a few seconds before exhaling. Soon, the room stopped spinning, and his energy level kicked back up.

There was a light tap on the door. " _Sean?_ "

Sean splashed water on his face, speaking while drying off. "Be right out."

He opened the door to Wanda patiently waiting. Again, she took his arm as they returned to the cafeteria. She'd been doing that a lot today. "Why didn't one of the guys come after me?"

"They are helping to clean the dining room before you play, so it was left to me to check on you." Her other hand joined the first on his arm. "How are you really feeling?"

"For realsies? Pretty good, for a guy who's dying. Nothing I can't handle." Her smile had a trace of sadness in it. Sean stopped and turned her to face him, lightly gripping her upper arms. "I'll tell you what I told Zoe and Justin. I want my family and friends to be glad they knew me. I _don't_ want people to cry because I'm gone, and they should smile when they think of me."

Her delicate hands came up to touch the sides of his neck, the palms warm and gentle. "You'll never truly die. Your music makes you immortal. With or without your music, I shall remember you for many years, Sean, as will all those who love you and your work."

Taking her words to heart, Sean returned her hand to his elbow, and started them moving again.

What he didn't see was the cushion of red mist that emanated from her palm to be absorbed through his skin.

 **The Pryce Home**

As he came down the street, Chase saw that only Serenity's car was in the driveway. He parked in front of the house, and hurried to the front door without locking his car. All his senses went on alert when he knocked and the door swung open. Calling out would do no good as they were both deaf. "So, room-to-room."

He'd only gotten as far as the living room, heading for the kitchen and laundry room when their cat Milo came trotting to his side, crying. Crouching, Chase ran a hand over the cat's back. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"Reow!"

Milo ran down the hall, and chase caught up with him as he ducked into Serenity and Collin's bedroom. He found the cat standing in the bathroom doorway, his tail swishing side to side, showing his agitation. Something had him upset. Chase smelled it before he saw it. Blood on the bathroom floor. "Oh, my God."

Taking out his phone, Chase sent a frantic text to Collin, but received no answer. His first instinct was to drive to the nearest hospital. If his sister and her husband weren't there, he would've wasted valuable time. To make this easier, he called another number. Standing beside his car, he waited impatiently for an answer, and finally, it came. "Nat! Thank God. I'm at Serenity's. The front door was open, and I found blood on the bathroom floor."

" _We're checking in at the airport. I'll have a friend check all the hospitals, and I'll call you back. Stay calm, and lock the house before you leave_."

Just hearing Natasha's calm, even tones helped Chase think clearly. He checked that all the windows, and the back and side doors were locked. Taking the extra key kept in the kitchen, he locked the front door, and ran to his car. By the time he'd buckled up and started the engine, Natasha was calling him back.

 **County General Hospital**

Chase darted out of the elevator, frantically looking left and right, catching sight of Collin sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. He hurried down the hall and touched him on the shoulder. * _Where is she? Are she and the babies alright?_ *

** _Dammit, I don't even know what_ _day_ _it is. She didn't want me to call anyone yet. How did_ _you_ _find out?_ **

* _Went to the house. Nat found out what hospital you're in. Mom and Dad are on their way. What happened?_ *

Collin paced away and back. ** _Found her on the bathroom floor bleeding. She hasn't felt well for a couple of days. The doctor is keeping her until he's sure she's stable._ **

A mild feeling of relief came over Chase, though he knew that Serenity and the twins weren't out of the woods yet. * _Can I see her?_ *

** _Sleeping. I came out to walk around while the nurse was with her._ **

* _I'll stay here while you go home and get some rest._ *

His brother-in-law shook his head. ** _I can't_ _leave_ _._ **

Gripping Collin's arm, Chase waited until he looked up. * _You're no good to Serenity_ _or_ _your children if you pass out from exhaustion. Go. I'll call if anything happens. Mom and Dad will be here soon._ *

Reluctantly, Collin nodded. Chase stumbled back a step when Collin hugged him tight before taking the stairs. He was about to go into Serenity's room when a nurse stopped him as she was coming out.

"Only family's allowed to visit. Doctor's orders."

Automatically signing while talking, Chase took his anxiety out on the woman. "I'm Chase Lockwood. She's my _sister_ , dammit! The last I heard, that makes me family."

The nurse's eyes narrowed slightly at his tone. "No disrespect intended. Our sign language interpreter is doing triple duty as a French- and Spanish-speaker too, so she's stretched thin. That makes it difficult to communicate with Mr. Pryce when he's agitated. He won't give anyone time to write a note and won't read it if we do."

Not giving her the satisfaction of apologizing or accepting her non-apology, Chase signed as he spoke, " _Now_ you have an interpreter. _Call_ the doctor and tell him to get his _ass_ here ASAP. Her parents will be here soon. Do _not_ turn them away or there'll be hell to pay. Our mother isn't nearly as understanding as I am." With that parting shot, Chase went into his sister's room and shut the door.

A few minutes later, Carolyn and Martin joined him. Serenity was still sleeping; he motioned for quiet. * _I sent Collin home to rest, eat and shower. The doctor will be here soon._ *

Martin moved a chair to the bedside so Carolyn could sit while holding her daughter's hand. ** _No one's heard from them in two days. We thought they were working, or just having some alone time._ **

* _Went by the house. It was unlocked, and there was blood on the bathroom floor. I called Nat. She used her connections to find out which hospital they'd gone to. That's when I called you._ *

** _We were on the way to the airport._ **

* _What about Nat, Gramps and Pietro?_ *

** _They were boarding their flight when you called. We told them to go on to Indiana and we'd keep them apprised._ **

Chase waved to indicate he wanted to change the subject. * _I just thought of something. I know Collin was too upset to call, or his phone didn't work inside the hospital._ * Shrugging a question, Martin shook his head, and Chase explained. * _So why didn't one of the staff call us?_ * His anger that had begun to subside climbed again. * _And I'm gonna find out._ *

 **Spring Gardens Academy**

The kids were having so much fun, Sean kept playing, getting suggestions from the audience, and not always his songs. Clint and Justin took turns on piano. Someone had made a request, but for some reason, he couldn't remember the title. "We're going to take a quick break, and be right back." He leveled a mock stern look at the kids. "Behave while we're gone."

The guys went out into the hall, and Wanda followed a few steps behind. She was always watching him. Following him. Not in a creepy, stalkery way, though it was unnerving at times. As he reached the bathrooms, he turned to her. "You know, I've been going to the little boy's room by myself since I was two."

Wanda smiled sheepishly as she stopped in front of the girl's room. "My apologies. I will attempt to tone it down."

"Don't. It's nice having someone besides Justin and my family dote on me." He pushed the boy's room door part the way open and let it close again. "Wanda?"

"Yes?"

Sean had always been confident and sure of himself, but now, he hesitated. _What the hell. Just say it_. "Could I call you 'auntie', like Justin does?"

The smile on her face gave him the answer. "Please do."

"Thanks, _auntie_."

"You are welcome, nephew."

~~O~~

Back at the cafeteria, Sean opened the door, and ushered her in. "Where're Justin and Clint?"

For a moment, Wanda's eyes lost focus. "They've stepped outside for some air, and will be back soon."

"In that case, I'll have another cup of that rancid cafeteria coffee while we wait."

Before he could put thoughts into action, Wanda strode across the room to the kitchen door. She stuck her head in and came back with a steaming cup. Wanda stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He picked up the cup and took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste. "They must've made a fresh pot."

~~O~~

The coffee was gone, and still no sign of Justin or Clint, and the kids were getting restless. To keep them from rioting, Sean picked up the guitar, and made himself as comfortable as possible in front of the microphone. "Looks like my band ran away. I was going to do 'You're Strange', but it doesn't really work without a piano. Does anyone play and know the music to…"

Sean clenched his jaw to keep from gaping as Zoe jumped up and ran to the keyboard. She turned it on and played several chords, giving him a cheeky grin.

"Oh, I, uh, guess we're ready then." He played the opening chords, and Zoe came in just on cue, playing the tune with only a few sour notes. Halfway through the song, Justin and Clint sidled in through the door, and slipped into their seats. They looked at each other, at him then at Zoe. Ever the professional, Sean kept going until the last few measures, which were a piano solo, letting Zoe have her moment.

The applause was thunderous as Sean waved her to his side. They held hands and bowed. He bent down to give her a hug, whispering, "You said you couldn't play."

"I just wanted to spend more time with you."

Sean tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "I didn't think it was possible for me to love you any more than I already do, but I was wrong. We'll talk when you get home later."

Zoe kissed him on the cheek and ran back to the table. Justin tapped his watch and held up one finger. "Okay, kids. We've got time for one more song. My voice is a little tired, so Finn's going to do the next number. Let's give Finn a big round of applause."

Justin took the guitar and sat on the stool, giving Sean a cold stare where the kids couldn't see it, going back to the smile when he faced them again. "I'll need a partner for this song." He looked at Zoe and made the universal sign for "come here". She jumped up and ran to him. They conferred in whispers, then she returned to the piano. "It's an old one, but I bet everyone here knows the words, so sing along, if you want."

He looked over at Zoe, counted down, and they started together.

 _Look for the bare necessities_ _  
_ _The simple bare necessities_ _  
_ _Forget about your worries and your strife_ _  
_ _I mean the bare necessities_ _  
_ _Are Mother Nature's recipes_ _  
_ _That bring the bare necessities of life_

 _Wherever I wander_ _  
_ _Wherever I roam_ _  
_ _I couldn't be fonder of my big home_ _  
_ _The bees are buzzin' in the tree_ _  
_ _To make some honey just for me_ _  
_ _When you look under the rocks and plants_ _  
_ _And take a glance at the fancy ants_ _  
_ _Then maybe try a few_ _  
_  
 _The bare necessities of life will come to you_ _  
_ _They'll come to you!_

 _Look for the bare necessities_ _  
_ _The simple bare necessities_ _  
_ _Forget about your worries and your strife_ _  
_ _I mean the bare necessities_ _  
_ _That's why a bear can rest at ease_ _  
_ _With just the bare necessities of life_

 _The bare necessities of life will come to you_ _  
_ _They'll come to you!_

The kids applauded and cheered, no less energetic now than at the beginning. Sean envied them and was saddened at the same time for all the things he'd taken for granted all his life. Shaking himself out of the past, he waited for Zoe to join them at the table and pulled her onto his lap.

The principal moved out in front of the kids. "That was amazing! Children, thank Mr. Riggs and his friends for being here today."

"Thanks, Mr. Riggs!"

Sean stood, holding Zoe's hand. "Thanks for having us, ma'am. We had a great time."

"Good. Your parents will be picking you up soon, but for now, back to your classes. Have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone!"

"Sean?"

He sat down so he could see her face. "What, Bright Eyes?"

She seemed shy at first, but with her, it never lasted. "Can I ride home with you?"

Glancing at his friends for confirmation for or against, Justin gave a minute shake of his head. Sean didn't know why, but he'd go along with him for now. "Sorry, love. Not this time."

Justin interrupted, hoping to ease her disappointment. "He's not on the list of people allowed to take you out of school, sweetheart."

Sean drew her into a hug. "Dad will be here in a bit to get you. 'll spend some time together tonight, just you and me."

Zoe looked up at Justin and back to him. "What about Justin?"

"His family's coming to spend Thanksgiving with us. He'll pick them up at the airport and take them to the hotel. Tomorrow, we'll all go out for lunch to get to know each other before dinner Thursday. But tonight, it's just you and me. Okay?"

"Okay."

The principal called out from the doorway. "Zoe? Back to your room please."

Zoe kissed him on the cheek and ran from the room with the principal along to make sure she made it. He slapped his thighs and stood. "Let's get everything put away so we can get out of here. Whoa." This time, he couldn't hide the dizziness from the others.

Justin helped him sit in the chair, worry in his blue eyes. "You okay?"

"Just tired." 

Wanda touched Justin on the shoulder. "Do not worry, nephew. I will watch over Sean while you and Clint do the work."

 **County General Hospital**

Standing in front of the nurse's station, Chase waited impatiently for the nurse to get off the phone. It was the same woman who'd confronted him outside Serenity's room. Finally, she hung up. "I want to know why no one called us about my sister. Collin's cell died, and I don't see a TTY phone."

The woman pressed her lips together, taking issue with his tone yet again. _Too ******* bad_.

"Mr. Pryce gave us his mother's number, but it wouldn't go through. We kept getting a recording saying that voice mail hadn't been set up. One of my colleagues tried talking to him, but he wouldn't look at the note, and the interpreter wasn't answering her phone."

"Let me see." She handed over the sticky note. Now Chase knew why their calls hadn't gone through. "This is our mother's number, but the area code is wrong." He balled up the note and dropped it on the desk. "Please accept my apologies. Because they're hearing impaired, someone is always checking up on them. When they want to be left alone for a few days, they stop answering their emails and texts, but never for more than a day ot two. Since we found out she's pregnant, the family's been…"

"Hovering?" She smiled her understanding. "Looks like you were right to be concerned." A pad and pen appeared on the desk. "If you'll give us numbers to call, I'll add them to her chart."

Taking a deep breath, Chase let it out. He jotted down several numbers. "That's Mom's, Dad's and my cell numbers. If we're not here, and you can't get in touch, call the last number. That's my office landline. You'll probably get my fiancée, and she'll know how to find me."

On the walk back to Serenity's room, Chase mentally kicked himself. He wasn't usually rude. However, finding the blood, and knowing that his sister had been in the hospital for two days and no one had called… His phone vibrated with an incoming text. Taking the phone down to the waiting room, he called Joi first, then Natasha, who promised to let everyone know what was going on. Any time now, he expected the waiting room to fill up with the Barnes family.

He also knew that Natasha, Bucky, the twins, and Justin would be here too, if they could. But there was no way they could let Justin deal with Sean's imminent death on his own. That made them a family united and divided at the same time. Maybe Christmas would be more on the normal side this year. _Don't count on it_ , his inner voice declared with glee. "Oh, shut the **** up! A man can dream, can't he?"

 **Spring Gardens Academy**

Justin knew that his attempt at being upbeat and happy didn't fool anyone, least of all his aunt.

Without speaking, he and Clint broke down the equipment, stacked it on a rolling pallet, and pushed it down the hall to the music room. Before they left, Justin stopped Clint. "Those reporters are everywhere out there. How did they find out he was here?"

"What're you worried about? They can't follow us."

"We still have to get to the limo, and there's nowhere to park in back."

Clint rubbed the back of his head. "Play your part. Be his bodyguard. And no matter what they throw at you, the response is 'no comment'."

They stepped out into the hall, keeping their voices low. "Like my interview with that annoying blonde reporter, Christine Everhart? I wonder whatever happened to her."

One side of Clint's mouth turned up in an ironic half-smile. "The opposite of that. New strategy: don't say anything at all. Keep walking. Get everyone in, and leave it to me to get us out of here."

Falling silent, they entered the cafeteria. Justin put up a hand to stop Clint, watching as Wanda massaged Sean's shoulders. The red mist emanating from her hands flowed along his upper back and was absorbed. Wanda went everywhere with them so she could be near Sean at all times. They would have to come up with an idea that would allow her to stay at the house. Justin knew that most of the work she did on Natasha that allowed her to conceive had been done at night when there were no witnesses. They needed the same for Sean.

Justin and Wanda's phones beeped at the same time. They read them, and Wanda gripped his arm so tightly, if it had been his real one, it would've hurt. It had been sent by Chase. Natasha, Gramps, Pietro and Iris were on the list as well as Joi, Steve and Mia.

 _Serenity's in County General. We're waiting to speak to the doctor. Will keep you posted_.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked. He showed him the text. "If you want to go, go. I'll be okay."

Shaking his head, Justin helped Sean stand, aiming him toward the door. "You're my husband. I have to stay. Chase will make sure we get regular updates. Mom and Dad are staying in D.C., but Nat, Gramps and Pietro are still on their way."

"So, all for one, and one for all, even when you're not together, huh?" Sean shook his head. "Why didn't I see that years ago? It would've saved us both some heartache."

~~O~~

"Remember what I said, Sean. Don't _look_ at them. Don't respond to questions. Keep walking all the way to the limo," Clint chattered in that voice Justin thought of as his stranger danger voice.

Irritated, Sean huffed at him. "I won't forget. Geez, give a dying guy a break here." Wanda, as always, held onto his arm for two reasons. In case he lost his balance, and to use her powers to fortify his strength.

Justin and Clint took up positions on either side of Sean and Wanda, ready to stomp on feet and jab elbows into a solar plexus or two if it meant no one would know about Sean's illness until he was gone. As they reached the corner, they all put their sunglasses on, except for Sean. He held them in his hand as if he didn't know what they were. Wanda took the glasses and put them on, and he gave her a smile touched with confusion. They had to get him home, and soon.

The second the doors opened, they were inundated with bright flashes of light and a cacophony of voices all shouting at once. They were nearly home free when Sean stopped, and faced the reporters, taking off the glasses and holding them in his hand. In response, the questions came to a sloppy halt.

Knowing what was in his mind, or at least part of it, Justin raised his voice. "Mr. Riggs will take a few questions, ladies and gentlemen, so make them good ones."

He pointed at a man with facial piercings and bleached hair. His clothing was black and faded, jeans and t-shirt with Sketcher knock-offs. "Mr. Riggs, why are you here today?"

Sean brought out his most charming smile. At least his personality hadn't been damaged by the cancer's spread. "I attended Spring Gardens Academy as a kid and wanted to give something back. Principal Brideau was happy to have us. Well, once I donated to the school's music program."

Dutifully, the crowd chuckled. A young woman barely old enough to drive shoved a pink cell phone in his face. "Blaze Maddox said you left the group to go into rehab for addictions. Is that true?"

~~O~~

Making an exaggerated eye-roll, Sean grinned wryly. "Not many know this about Blaze Maddox, so." Again, there was laughter. His smile went away. It was a ploy to let them know he was serious. "He's a lying asshole. He blew most of his money on blow, so _you_ tell _me_ who needs to be in rehab." He pointed a finger at them. "Just put me down as an anonymous source."

Another woman, this one dressed as if she were a television news anchor down to her matching two-inch pumps and meticulously styled hair, held a cordless microphone. "You've lost weight recently. Care to explain that?"

Sean answered this one the same as the others: truthfully. "Not really, but then you'll just make something up. Yes, I've lost weight. My doctor put me on a restricted diet to lower my out of control cholesterol." He pointed at another young man.

"Why did you leave Ambiguous?"

More truth. "I wanted to spend more time with my family." That garnered him sentimental smiles from the women and silent scoffs from the men. "I've also been contemplating a solo career. Think I have a chance?"

Excited chattering sprang up and he waited it out. The next guy nodded at Justin. "I'd like to be the first of my esteem colleagues to congratulate you on your recent marriage, Sean. It's my understanding that the two of you have known each other for more than six years. You broke up just before Ambiguous began the first leg of their European tour. Why did you suddenly decide to get married?"

When Sean didn't immediately respond, Wanda nudged him. As if from a fog, he brought his eyes to focus on the man. "Married?" He held up his left hand, as did Justin. "Do you see wedding rings? We're all just good friends here."

The same guy held up two photos, looking smug as only a nosy reporter does when he thinks he's gotten the best of an interviewee. The first was of two men and a young girl eating lunch, red circles around their ring fingers showing gold bands. The other was blurry and appeared to be a screen shot of a marriage application. "You were saying?"

Justin's answer was simple, and plausible. "Photoshop."

Another reporter pushed his microphone in Justin's face. "If you're not his husband, then why are you here?"

Justin and Clint silently agreed that it was time to end this impromptu press conference. "To protect him from people like you." He stepped in front of Sean, arms wide, moving forward, forcing the group to part or be run over. "That's enough questions. Mr. Riggs is late for a meeting."

"With a music producer?"

Reporters just oculdn't resist getting in one last question. Justin answered with a clipped, "Maybe." Together he and Clint hustled Sean to the limo with Justin the last in, watching the reporters run to their vehicles, just now noticing that three of four tires had been flattened. With one foot in Justin waited for the paparazzi to look over at him. He saluted, using his best "gotcha" grin, ducked into the limo, closed the door, and Clint drove away, knowing they wouldn't be followed.

Wanda, Sean and Justin shared a three-way exploding fist bump. Justin played an invisible drum set. "And it's the Barnes family for the win! Buh-dum- _bump_!"

 **Lighthouse Café**

 **Private Dining Room**

 **Wednesday**

"Think our families will get along?" Justin asked Sean, who was slumped down in the passenger seat.

"Why shouldn't they? Your family's great and mine is, uh…" Sean made a vague gesture as if searching for the right word, " _Your_ family's great." He chuckled at his own joke.

More and more the past few days, Sean was literally at a loss for words, except when Wanda was around. She was the only thing that kept him from sliding over into a form of dementia. But it wouldn't last. Soon, she would no longer be able to help him, and then, he would be gone. Justin put it out of his mind, determined that tonight and tomorrow would go smoothly. "Got your ring?"

Sean held up his left hand. "Yup. Zoe reminded me. She's amazing, isn't she?"

Justin smiled, but didn't say a word. Sean had said the same thing four times since they left the house for the drive to the restaurant. He needed to be near Wanda before he met the rest of the Barnes family. While they were getting dressed earlier, Justin had encouraged Sean to wear a flannel shirt nearly the same color as the red mist created by Wanda's psionics to hide what they were doing. Not that it would fool Natasha or Pietro, but it was all they had.

Justin pulled into the parking lot and found a good spot. By good, he meant where they could see, but not be seen. They hadn't come up with a plausible reason for Wanda to stay the night at Joe's, and Justin mentally crossed his fingers that Sean would be okay for a while.

He poked Sean. "Everyone's here. Let's go. If you don't remember someone's name, squeeze my leg, and I'll help you out."

"Hmm?" Sean had turned to look out at the choppy water of Lake Michigan. "Oh, okay. Can we go in now? I'm tired of sittin' here, and it's gettin' cold."

"Sure." Concentrating, Justin sent a quick ping to Wanda. Within seconds, she met them halfway to the door. Justin had a grip on Sean's arm, steering him in the right direction when he tried to wonder off. Smiling in case they were being watched, he whispered, "This won't take long, will it? I don't want anyone to see him like this."

"Not at all. Pietro knows something is going on, but do not worry. He will not… make a scene?"

This time, Justin's smile was genuine. He moved to block the outside cameras from seeing what Wanda was doing, while keeping his eyes on Sean's face. Within moments, the serene, know-nothing smile changed to the one Justin remembered from the night they formally met at Tunnel Vision. He clapped Sean on the shoulder. "Ready to go inside, Chipmunk?"

"Whenever you are, Beeb." He chuckled and rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Can't wait to see the looks on my family's faces when they meet Gramps and Natasha. And they're going to freak, quietly, about Pietro and Wanda's accents. No offense, auntie."

The last he said to Justin's favorite aunt. She smiled, and as she had all day Tuesday, tucked her hand around his arm. "None taken. I consider it a compliment."

"As you should."

Justin motioned toward the door. "Once more into the breech?"

~~O~~

Standing at the end of the table, Justin waved a greeting. "Good to see everyone. Time for introductions." Sean and Wanda sat next to Zoe at her insistence. Bucky was fussing over Natasha getting her seated. She smiled up at him with affection. Her black and white sweater dress and red vest showed off her baby bump to great effect, especially when the sun hit her from the side. She took off her black floppy brimmed hat, and Bucky placed it in an empty chair at the table where everyone put their coats and jackets.

"Starting on the right, we have Sean's family. His dad, Joe Riggs, his step-mother, Leanne. His mother, Karen Abbasi, step-father Luke, and his little sister, Zoe. Unfortunately, his brothers and their families couldn't be here today." Placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder indicated he would start with her. "My aunt, Wanda Maximoff, my uncle and Wanda's brother, Pietro. That handsome guy all in black is James Barnes, and the lovely redhead next to him is his wife, Natasha Romanoff-Barnes, who is carrying the newest addition to the family."

The Riggs and Abbasis looked confused, just as Sean wanted them to be. To help it along, Justin purposely stood next to his grandfather to have a front row seat for the festivities.

Joe stood, and the two patriarchs shook hands. Joe gave Bucky a thorough appraisal with appearing to do have done so. "And who are you, Mr. Barnes?"

"James, please, Joe. I'm…"

Justin put his arm around Bucky's shoulder, bringing them even closer together. "James and Natasha are my grandparents."

 **TBC**

"The Bare Necessities" is a song, written by Terry Gilkyson, from the animated 1967 Disney film _The Jungle Book_ , sung by Phil Harris as Baloo and Bruce Reitherman as Mowgli.


	130. Chapter 130

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 130**

There was a long moment of silence, broken by Leanne giggling, and the other three adults joining in. She reached across the table to lightly slap Justin on the hand. "I didn't realize what a jokester you are, Justin."

Grinning, Joe resumed his chair. "It was a nice try, but next time, don't try to pass off your older brother and his wife as your grandparents."

The Barnes family exchanged bemused glances. Bucky took his seat between Pietro and Natasha. "We're not joking. I really am Justin's grandfather, though technically, Tasha is his step-grandmother. _Chase_ is Justin's fraternal twin, and not formally engaged yet."

Justin pulled his chair out and sat down. Taking out his phone, he scrolled the photos, coming to one of his immediate family, and passed the phone to the other side. "Left to right, Mom, Dad, big sis Joi, me, my twin, Chase, and the baby of the family, Serenity. She's pregnant with twins and is in the hospital. Mom, Dad, Joi and Chase are with her."

Karen gripped Luke's hand. "How bad is it?"

"Not sure," Bucky told them. "We're still waiting to hear from Carolyn."

Confused by all the names, Karen asked, "And she is?"

"My oldest daughter, Justin's mother. The rest of the kids are Steve James, Olivia and Jacob. I won't bother you with all the names of our grandchildren, great grandchildren, cats and dogs, because there's a lot."

Natasha offered them a small frown. "We would've cancelled this trip, but we were already on the runway to take off." She reached out to take Sean's hand. "Carolyn and Martin agreed that it was equally important that the family be here for Justin and Sean's celebration."

Still seeing doubt, Justin leaned forward so he could see Bucky and Natasha. "They still don't believe."

"Doesn't matter, pal." Bucky lightly slapped the table. "Let's start this get-to-know-the-in-laws thing." A server came in to take their drink orders. Bucky waited until they'd gone to say, "I couldn't help noticing your charming accent, Leanne. Where are you from originally?"

"Aren't you sweet, James? I grew up in Creola, Alabama, and attended the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts in Vancouver, British Columbia." She laughed. "They do love a southern accent up there, I must say. After that, I spent some time in Paris. France, not Texas," she carefully emphasized, "though most o' the recipes I use in my restaurants were handed down from my ever so great grandmas on both sides o' the family."

Natasha sipped her tea, and returned the cup to the saucer. "Can you make Gigot d'Agneau Pleureur, Pissaladière, or Foie de Veau à la Lyonnaise?"

Leanne picked up her, stirring her coffee as she spoke. "If _you_ can say it, Tasha, _I_ can make it."

"You should meet my sister, Joi, Leanne," Justin told her. "She owns a café in D.C., and is one of the co-hosts on _Rare Tastes_."

Sean's step-mother choked on her tea. "Joi Lockwood is your _sister_? Oh, my! That's one o' the few cookin' shows I bother to watch."

Justin got an idea. He stood up and laid his napkin in his chair. "She'd appreciate hearing that. Excuse me." Leaning close to Zoe, he whispered, "Could I borrow your iPad, please?" With a sheepish smile, Zoe pulled a tablet from her backpack, unlocked the screen and handed it to him. "Thanks."

Sean joined him almost immediately. "What are you doing?"

"They still don't believe Gramps is my gramps, so I'm going to prove it." Justin tapped at the screen. "No offense, husband, but I didn't like the way your dad's looking at us. Like we're laboratory specimens."

The door to the private dining room opened, and Wanda stuck her head out. Before Sean could see, he sent a ping her way, and she quickly closed the door. "How you gonna prove it?"

Justin turned a grin on Sean. "I'm going to introduce your family to mine." He held up a hand for quiet. "Hi, sis."

In the background of the video chat, they could see a hospital room. " _Justin! Hey, Mom. It's Justin_." Joi turned the screen to show Carolyn, Martin, Chase and Mia. " _Say hi to your in-laws, Sean_."

He waved. "Hey. Nice to meet all of you." Sean got an odd look in his eyes, as if he had a secret he wasn't willing to share. "Mia."

" _Sean. To what do we owe this honor?_ "

Justin turned the pad so he took center stage again. "We're checking on Serenity. How is she?"

For an answer, Joi carried the tablet over to the bed and held it so they could see his sister and her husband. She was awake, and looked better than Justin expected, considering what he'd been told.

Her smile told him she was on the way to recovery. _The doctor said was in danger of having a miscarriage, so I'll have to take a leave of absence from work. Stay off my feet as much as possible_.

Sean held the tablet to allow Justin's hands to be free. "I glad. Take care of yourself and those babies, sis." To Joi, he said, "Sean's step-mom is a fan of the show. Plus, we want to introduce you. Is Steve there?"

"No. He's at home with Alice. She wasn't feeling well, and we didn't want to take any chances with her or Serenity, just in case she's contagious."

"Maybe later then," Justin told her though they both knew it wouldn't happen. He returned to the dining room. "Hey, everyone! I've got the fam on the line. Everyone say hi to my mom and dad, my sisters, Serenity and Joi, Serenity's husband Collin, and our cousin Mia."

~~O~~

A bout of dizziness caused Sean to stumble. He would've fallen had it not been for Pietro, who was suddenly there, holding him up. Pietro helped him sit next to Wanda, and she immediately took hold of his hand. "Are you okay?"

Putting on a brave face for her and especially Zoe, Sean smiled. "Haven't eaten since this morning. Where's the food?"

"We haven't yet ordered. Shall I ask them to bring you a small snack?"

"I'll be fine." He clasped her hand tighter. "Don't know why, but just having you here makes me feel better, auntie."

Wanda's sad smile told Sean he hadn't fooled her a bit. He was telling the truth though. Whenever she held his hand or touched his shoulders, whatever symptoms were bothering him became less.

"It is my pleasure, nephew."

Two smiling servers came in. "Are you ready to order?"

There was a chorus of agreement. The servers started at opposite ends, reaching Bucky and Natasha at the same time. They gave their orders, and Bucky followed it up by handing him a credit card. "All on one tab, please. On me."

Sean's dad took exception. "That's not necessary, James."

"Then we'll split the cost. We _are_ a family, after all."

"That we are." His phone vibrated. Joe read the screen and stood. "Excuse me. I have to get this."

~~O~~

Not wanting anyone one else to hear, Joe didn't stop until he was outside. "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, Graham."

" _Not a problem, Joseph_."

In his mind, Joe pictured Graham Lewandowski. Over six feet, still muscular into his sixties, with a serious mind, gray hair worn in an Elvis pompadour since he was a teen, dark skin, and glasses with frames that harkened back to the fifties. "I need a favor, but no one can know. Especially not Leanne, Karen or Luke."

His mouth was a thin line. " _What's a best friend for? Hit me_."

"It also helps that your best friend is chief of police." Joe paced away from the restaurant's entrance to his car, hunching his shoulders against the cold. "I need a background check done."

" _Don't tell me. Your new son-in-law_."

Joe leaned his hips again the side of the car, legs crossed at the ankles. "Yes. And his family. All of them. Go back as far as possible. I want to know every dirty little secret that family has. They're hiding something, and I want to know what."

Graham's office chair creaked as he moved. " _What's the name?_ "

"Justin Lockwood. Don't know the middle name. He resides in Virginia, not sure of the city. He purports to be the grandson of a man by the name of James Barnes, though I have my doubts."

Going old school, Graham jotted the names on a pad. " _Justin Lockwood and James Barnes. Photos would help._ "

Joe tapped a few keys to send the photos. "Barnes is married to a younger woman by the name of Natasha. Email the information to my secure account." Joe inhaled, and let it out slowly. "I need it ASAP. Sean's not going to be with us much longer, and if this Lockwood guy is pulling the wool over his eyes, it could be grounds for an annulment, which will need to be rushed through the system before I file Sean's will making him the sole executor of my son's estate and his POA."

" _Wow. When you have troubles, you don't go the easy route. I'll get someone on it tonight. My guy's discrete_."

What Graham didn't say was his "discrete" contact wasn't sanctioned by the police department. He was a CI, a confidential informant who did work under the radar. Work that couldn't go through legal channels.

The front door opened, and Leanne stuck her head out, waving to get his attention. He walked toward her, while turning off the phone. "Sorry about that. I forgot to tell my assistant to take messages for the night."

"Perry needs to get a life that doesn't involve callin' you mornin', noon, and night." She took his arm on the way back to the dining room. "Natasha's been tellin' us about livin' in Russia. Too bad you missed it. And did you know James was in the Army? Mustered out after Vietnam, he says, but I'm thinkin' he's tellin' tall tales to impress the in-laws."

"Don't worry about it, Leanne. If they have something up their sleeve, we'll know soon enough."

They stopped at the door, and she frowned. "You called Graham, didn't you? It's a shame you can't just trust people, Joe."

"If I trusted people, I'd've become a social worker instead of a lawyer." He put an end to their conversation by opening the door and ushering her in.

"…I have to be back at my desk at the museum bright and early Monday morning for a meet and greet with possible donors for the new exhibit. Can't talk about it though. All very hush-hush."

Joe held Leanne's chair, and took his seat just as the servers brought the appetizers. When they were gone again, Joe stirred his cup of soup. "I apologize if I missed this part, Natasha. What do you do for a living?"

Again, the family exchanged secret smiles. Natasha's was sweet and filled with innocence. "At the moment, I'm a stay-at-home mom, home-schooling two teenagers."

Pietro scooped up a spoonful of chili with a mound of cheese and crackers. "This is not as easy for her as you would think. Both my sister and I were quite resistant to authority when we first came to live with our adoptive parents."

~~O~~

Luke refilled his and Karen's coffee cups. "May I ask where you're from?"

Setting her fork in the salad bowl, Wanda dropped one hand into her lap. "Sokovia. Our parents died when we were ten." The hand in her lap reached around to touch Sean on the back, giving him a short burst of psionic energy.

Pietro continued, "For a while, we were in foster care, though it is not the same as here in America. There, orphaned children are often placed with any family willing to take them in. They receive a small monthly payment to help with expenses, but it is never enough."

After a quick glance at Bucky and Natasha, Wanda determined that it was permissible to continue the story. "When we came to America, Pietro and I had been living on the streets of Novi Grad since the age of twelve."

Karen and Leanne's mouths dropped open in shock, but it was Luke who asked the next question. "You lived on the streets for five _years_?"

"Yes." Wanda brought her chin up proudly. "We often had to steal to keep ourselves clothed and fed, but it was better than allowing ourselves to be separated or being treated like indentured servants by those with whom we lived."

Once more, Pietro added to their story. "We thank Mother and Father every day for taking us in. And most of all, we thank them for the love they give so freely."

"Yes. From the moment we arrived, we were treated as family." Wanda looked over at Sean, who smiled back. "Even your son calls us aunt and uncle. After all, he _is_ married to our nephew."

A server came in to take the bowls and plates to clear the way for the entrees to be served, and left just a quietly. Leanne put on a smile in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Natasha, what do you do when you're not a stay-at-home mom? I mean, you do work outside the home, right?"

Bucky's wave of pride easily reached Wanda, and she smiled when Natasha casually said, "I work for the government. I'm on a leave of absence until after the baby's born."

Wanda could see the question in the eyes of the Riggs family, except for Sean. Without consulting Justin or her parents, she'd taken it upon herself to put into his mind a lack of curiosity about Natasha's work that indicated to the others that he already knew the answer.

"The work I do is confidential."

Joe was careful to keep his features neutral, but Wanda still sensed suspicion, and not only from him. It had always been there, but had now risen to a point where she could no longer ignore it. She sent a short ping to her family. Used to it now, none of them reacted. No doubt, they would have something to say once they were alone.

A team of servers came bustling in with food-laden trays. "Here we go! If you need anything, just let us know."

Talk around the table roamed from one subject to another for the remainder of the meal without getting too personal on either side. Natasha offered to help with the meal preparations, ensuring Leanne that it would not be too much of a strain on her condition. As the hostess, Leanne happily accepted. "I don't know much about Russia, Natasha. Do you have a holiday similar to Thanksgiving?"

" _Den' narodnogo yedinstva_ or Unity Day would be the closest. It commemorates the November 1612 uprising which ejected Polish invaders from Moscow, bringing about the end of the Time of Troubles and foreign intervention in Russia. At that time, all the classes of Russian society willingly united to preserve Russian statehood at a time when its demise seemed inevitable, though there was neither a Tsar nor a Patriarch to guide us. It is celebrated November third and fourth. There are parties, sporting events, marches, concerts. Unlike the US, Russia doesn't have traditional foods for the holiday."

"That's too bad. I was hoping we'd get the chance to try a dish or two," Karen commented with enthusiasm.

Natasha smiled. "I could pick up the ingredients tonight, if you like."

There was a chorus of energetic agreement from everyone, including Luke. "Then perhaps we should bring a Pakistani dish as well."

Excited about the prospect, Leanne clasped her hands together, her eyes alight. "To be fair, we should include something from Sokovia as well." Without waiting for acceptance, she pulled out her phone and passed it to Natasha. "Y'all can give me a list of ingredients, and I'll pick 'em up myself. Or we could go together just to be sure I get the right stuff."

Justin and Sean had stayed out of the conversation. To get them involved, Wanda sent a quick and gentle ping. Sean looked at her and back to his mother. "Here's an idea. Let's keep Thanksgiving the way it is, and do these other dishes on Friday or Saturday. Make it a new family tradition."

 **County General Hospital**

The doctor came in a few minutes after they'd finished meeting Sean's family, followed by a woman in a blazer and slacks. Joi still couldn't get over the confusion and disbelief when faced with their odd family. Sean's dad seemed to see it as a colossal joke being played at his family's expense. That's what made the truth all the funnier.

Looking around at the expectant faces, the doctor motioned at the woman. "Ms. Almiro is here to translate."

Joi could see her mother and father were annoyed. Carolyn stood, signing and speaking, "How do you think we communicate with our daughter, doctor? Everyone in the family signs."

Looking annoyed at the interruption rather than chastised, the doctor nodded to the interpreter, and she quietly left the room. He scrolled the material on the tablet he carried, exhaling and smiling with satisfaction. "All your tests look good, Ms. Pryce. I'll sign your release so you can spend the holidays at home with your family with the provision that you take it easy." He passed Collin a sheet of paper. "However, for the remainder of your pregnancy, you will need to follow these instructions to the letter, or risk losing the babies. At the bottom is a list of symptoms to watch out for. I've included my cell number, in case of emergency. That way you don't have to go through the answering service. My home isn't far from the hospital. I can meet you here in less than ten minutes." He met each set of eyes, except for Carolyn's, who was busy translating his instructions.

"If you have questions, don't hesitate to contact my office. Happy Thanksgiving."

The moment the door closed, Serenity threw off the covers and put her feet over the side. Collin frantically signed for her to be careful.

Out loud, Carolyn told the men, "Go to the waiting room while we get her dressed. We'll call when we're ready."

Happy that the scare was over, Joi wondered if Mia would experience something similar while carrying the child she hopefully was pregnant with at this very moment. Her mother was the only other female in the immediate family who had such an event, but you never knew. In the back of Joi's mind, she also feared that Mia would change her mind once the child was born, and decide to keep him or her. It was a scenario that Steve refused to even discuss.

Joi kissed her sister and brother-in-law, and left hospital. If they wanted to talk, she would make herself available. With the weight of Serenity's crisis off her mind, she could now concentrate on Thanksgiving dinner.

The café would be closed for the holiday. Preparation for Thanksgiving had already been done, with Steve and Alice's help. Rachel and her sister would be joining them, now that they had extra chairs. The house had been put in its place thanks to Pietro, who had accomplished in a couple of hours what it would've taken days for them to complete alone. There was still painting and remodeling to be done, especially the room where Mia would stay while she played surrogate. After the baby was born, that room would become the nursery. Then, later, if Steve expressed an interest in more children, Joi would make sure he made more of a contribution to the results.

Her first stop after the hospital was the café to borrow kitchen supplies, and then home to start cooking. Serenity was going home, she and Steve would have a brother or sister for Alice soon, Chase was as good as engaged, and Justin had just gotten married. Except for Sean's situation, their lives were pretty good.

 **Lakeside Inn**

 **South Bend, Indiana**

 **That Night**

Bundled up against the cold and relaxing on the patio of their hotel room, Natasha sipped the hot tea Bucky had brought her, watching the water of Lake Michigan ripple in the slight breeze. She set the cup aside and picked up her phone, using her thumb to choose a number from her contact list. It was answered on the third ring.

" _Rogers_."

"It's Nat." Bucky came out to join her. She mouthed "Steve" at his inquiry as to whom she was talking. "Just to let you know, you should be receiving an alert sometime in the next week or so."

Steve sighed loudly into the phone. " _Is Tony causing trouble again?_ "

Bucky lifted her legs, sat on the end of the chaise lounge, and laid them across his lap. "Undoubtedly. This is something different. Justin married his ex a few days ago. Sean's father is the suspicious type, and it's my considered opinion that he'll be doing a background check on Justin's family. I could have the contingency plan put in place so that we all appear to be normal, everyday Americans with nothing to hide."

" _But?_ "

"Plan C, roadblocks will be set up, so his contact really has to work for the information. Some of it will remain off the books, but Joseph Riggs, attorney-at-law, should know he's messing with the wrong people. If you have time next week, we should grab our gear and pay him a visit. Just to give him a scare."

Heavy footsteps crossed the hardwood floor of Steve's living room, and a door closed. " _Think that's really necessary?_ "

Natasha let humor enter her voice. "No. But it'll be _loads_ of fun. Imagine the look on his face when the Avengers show up on his doorstep in full drag."

" _You have the strangest definition of fun, Nat, even though I agree. It should be good for a laugh or two_."

"The downside is Riggs is Justin's father-in-law. I saw him watching our side of the family at dinner. He doesn't trust us."

Steve moved the phone away for a moment. " _Gotta go. Alice is ready for her bedtime story. Call me and we'll work out how to teach Riggs a lesson_."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

 **Two Weeks Later**

The house was quiet with Zoe off to visit a friend, Leanne at the restaurant, Justin over at Jessie's doing repairs to the catering truck and Sean and Bear taking a nap. Joe relished the silence. At the office, there was always noise. Here, he could shut the door, and no one bothered him.

About the time he decided it was _too_ quiet, he heard Sean playing the piano, soft and soothing. Not like the day they argued. Joe didn't want to fight with his oldest son during his last days on earth, so he kept his opinions to himself.

~~O~~

Sean yawned and stretched as he rolled out of bed. He went straight to the kitchen to put water on to boil and went to use his father's bathroom.

What seemed like just a few minutes later, the smoke alarm went off. Sean and his dad reached the kitchen at the same time. "What's the hell's going on?" Joe turned off the stove, grabbed a pot holder and put the now empty pan in the sink. He used a towel to fan the smoke away from the alarm until it finally quit blaring. "What were you _doing_?"

At a loss to explain, Sean looked around the room. "Um, I don't… tea. I-I was gonna make some tea."

"Where's Wanda? She's supposed to be keeping an eye on things."

"She, uh, she…" The bathroom door opened and closed. Running footsteps sounded muffled on the carpet as Wanda skidded into the kitchen on the hardwood floor. "She's right there."

~~O~~

Wanda took in the scene in a glance. "I apologize, Joe. He was sleeping, so I went to take a quick shower." Moving to Sean's side, she placed a hand on his back, creating psionic mist that was quickly absorbed into his body. Joe nodded and went into the den.

Within moments, Sean no longer had that blank, confused stare. Taking his hand, she led him to the entertainment room. "Let's watch a movie, shall we?"

"How about a game instead?"

Over Sean's shoulder, Wanda nodded to Joe, who reluctantly returned to the den. "That would be fine. What do you like to play?"

Joe came out of the den putting on his coat and buttoning up the front. "I have to go out for a couple of hours, Wanda." The implication in his tone was that she not let anything happen to Sean while he was gone. "Call if you need anything."

Sean grinned and led the way back to the entertainment room. "Back in the day, I used to be pretty good at poker. Sometimes Justin and I played strip poker."

"What is that?" She opened the door, but before either of them could enter, Bear squeezed past.

"Just what it sounds like, auntie. Whoever loses the hand has to take off an article of clothing until you stop playing or someone winds up naked." He got out the deck of cards and shuffled. "The trick is to put on lots of clothes before you start."

Rolling her eyes, Wanda sat cross-legged on the floor with Sean across from her. "Choose another game, nephew."

"Gin, then."

"This I know how to play." Sean dealt the cards. She picked hers up and spent a few moments sorting. "Poker would not have been a good idea. Mother taught me to play, and I seldom lose."

Sean sorted his cards, allowing only his eyes to be seen above them. "That sounds like a challenge."

Grinning, Wanda took his cards, added them back to the deck and shuffled the way Natasha taught her. She had no need to cheat, she was that good. "Tell you what. We will play ten hands. At most, one of us will be sitting here in their undershirt and pants. If that person is you, we will bundle up and go to the park with Bear. If I win, you will play…" she thought hard for a moment, "…five songs of my choosing. Do we have a deal?"

Sean's grin matched hers. "Deal. In the interest of full disclosure, Justin was usually the one who ended up wearing nothing but a smile."

She laughed and waved a hand. "That is too much information, Sean." Though the idea itself was funny, that he told the story showed that even with her assistance, he would not be around much longer. Every day, it seemed as if he lost more and more of himself.

"How about we keep score instead? The loser draws a picture of the article of clothing he or she would've taken off."

"That is a much better solution, I believe." Wanda opened the table drawer, but couldn't find a pad or pencil.

Sean jumped to his feet, more energetic now than before. Unfortunately, it would wear off soon. "I'll get it from the den. No cheating while I'm gone."

~~O~~

In the den, Sean went to the desk, opening and closing drawers until he found what he was looking for. His father's laptop was still active, showing an open email with lots of attachments. Curious, he opened the first one, quickly skimming the information and getting angrier by the second.

The front door opened and slammed. " _Sorry, Wanda. I forgot my laptop. Where's Sean?_ "

" _He went to the den for paper and pencil to keep score for our game_."

In seconds, Joe was in the doorway of the den, eyes wide with emotions Sean had seldom seen him display: fear and shame. He came toward him one slow step at a time. "Sean, son, that's confidential. I need you to shut it down."

Sean slammed his hands on the desk so hard the landline jumped, and he stood. " _Stop_ treating me like a child, Dad! I'm dying, not losing my mind." In a burst of rage, Sean swept the items on the desk, laptop, lamp, papers and so forth, onto the floor. "You ran a background check on Justin's family." He panted with the force of his emotions. "How _could_ you?"

"It was for your own good. The two of you hadn't seen each other in years. I need to know he really has your best interests at heart."

~~O~~

Wanda could only think of one way to help. Because the cancer had invaded his brain and lungs, she had to be able to touch him, but he was so angry, she doubted he would allow it.

"Dad, he's my husband _and_ my friend! Not some homeless guy you hired to paint the shed." Sean paced in front of the desk, his steps quick and angry. "I can't believe you did this!"

Joe moved slowly toward him, one hand out in front in a placating gesture, keeping his voice steady and calm, until he was within arm's reach. "Please, Sean. Sit down so we can talk about this."

Head bowed and panting, Sean clenched his jaw and pulled away. "Don't touch me, and don't speak to me ever again." To her, he said, "Come on, Wanda. We're getting out of here. Don't know why I thought things would be different just because I'm dying."

Wanda moved up next to Joe, keep her voice low. "You don't mean that, Sean. Please, come with me. It's time for your medication, and you'll feel better after a nap."

More nimble now that he'd been in a while, Sean sidestepped them both, turned and ran out of the room. By the time he'd reached the front door, Bear was there, looking up at him with affection, awaiting pets. Sean remembered he wasn't wearing shoes or a jacket and changed direction, running down the hall to his room.

Before Wanda could think of a way to use her powers to stop him without Joe seeing, Sean was coming back out, hopping on one foot while pulling on his right shoe, and only a sock on the left.

"Sean? Son?"

He jerked upright, waving his arms. "Don't _call_ me that! I'm _not_ your son. Not anymore." He went back to pacing, Bear following at his side. "You had him investigated. _Why_ would you do that?"

His voice faded to a whisper and he continued to pace, seeming to have forgotten where he was going. Now, he was talking to himself, saying things that didn't make any sense.

"Can't stay here. I've got to go. It's late. Mom will have dinner ready, and I can't be late be-because… because… I gotta-gotta go see… who? Who was I gonna see? Justin? But we broke up years ago. He don't wanna see-see m-me." He rubbed his hands together fretfully, his words no longer audible.

Wanda had made her way around the edge of the room out of Sean's sight in an attempt to find a vantage point from which to help him. If she could render him unconscious, that would give them time to get him to the hospital.

She would have to take a chance on being seen. Approaching him slowly, she formed a small cloud of psionic energy in her palm, but when the opportunity presented itself, she hesitated. What if she used too strong of a stream, and it killed him? In his current physical condition, it was a real possibility.

Before she could make up her mind, the front door opened, and Justin stepped inside. Sean saw him, and threw himself into his arms. "Justin! You've come back! I-I don't know what's going on. My-my father, he's…" Frustrated that the words wouldn't come, Sean balled up his fists and slammed them against Justin's chest. "I-I can't remember, Justin! W-why can't I…"

Justin held onto him, glancing over his shoulder at Wanda and Joe. "Come with me, Sean. We're gonna go lie down."

"No-no-no! I have to _go_ , to _leave_ because, because I, I mean my dad, he-he… my shoe. I can't find my…" he grabbed his head, dislodging the beanie, and squeezed is eyes shut. "Oh, God! It hurts! Make it s-s-sto…"

Sean's eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled. Justin scooped him up and carried him to the sofa. He checked for a pulse, closing his eyes in relief. Getting to his feet, he advanced on Joe. " _What_ did you _say_ to him? Tell me!"

Joe could only open and close his mouth. Wanda sent him a quick rundown of the events of the past few minutes. Before she could say a word, her mind was hit with a cacophony of mental images that made her head hurt. Wanda had only experienced such an event once in her life. She grabbed Justin's arm and pointed at Sean.

Justin and Joe rushed toward the sofa where Sean's body was shaking uncontrollably. "He's having a seizure!"

Joe took out his phone, and dialed 9-1-1. "Yes, we need an ambulance at…"

With a flick of her hand, Wanda flung the phone against the wall, shattering it beyond hope. "He wants to be at home for his last days. You cannot go against his wishes." She looked to Justin for support.

The seizure stopped, and Sean's chest continued to rise and fell in a shallow rhythm. Holding one of Sean's hands, Justin nodded. "She's right. I know someone we can call."

He carried Sean to the bedroom. Wanda and Joe followed, watching Justin lay him on the bed with the upmost care. Stepping past Joe without even giving him a glance, she helped Justin get him out of his clothes and into his pajamas.

Justin pulled the covers up to his chest and stepped back. "Keep an eye on him for me, Wanda." His phone was in his hand. "I'm calling Bruce."

 **TBC**

Gigot d'Agneau Pleureur - lamb that is traditionally cooked for Easter (called "Pâques") holiday.

Pissaladière - a Provençal open tart resembling pizza, typically made with onions, anchovies, and black olives.

Foie de Veau à la Lyonnaise - Veal Liver and Onions


	131. Chapter 131

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 131**

 **The Riggs Family Home**

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

Lightning flashed through the cloudless sky, making the house shake as if from a minor earthquake, followed by something heavy hitting the ground. Recognizing the sound, Justin ran to the front door and jerked it open. Bruce was standing there with his hand raised to knock. Behind him, Thor's clothing morphed into casual dress as Joe joined him. Justin drew them both inside. "This way."

Bruce took out his glasses and put them on while Thor followed, carrying his medical cases. "I need details from his medical records. You said he has advanced stage cancer."

"Yes. Sean's always had an eidetic memory. When he started forgetting the lyrics to songs that _he_ wrote or his family's names, I knew… Just before I called you, he and his father had an argument. He started talking crazy, babbling, said his head hurt. Then, he passed out, and had a seizure."

Justin opened the bedroom door, ushered Bruce and Wanda in, and took the cases from Thor, who closed the door in Joe's face. A situation with which he took exception.

Wanda used her psionics to open his medical cases and arrange the contents on the bedside tables. He nodded thanks while affixing sensors first to Sean's body then to his scalp and set up a small monitor to show the results. Justin had already powered up the tablet where the readings would be displayed, all the while listening to Joe demanding to be let in. His voice faded away as he and Thor moved toward the living room.

~~O~~

Thor urged Joe to sit on the sofa. "Have you something to drink that is stronger than tea?"

Unable to speak, Joe pointed to the den. Thor went in, and came out with a glass of scotch. He pressed it into Joe's hand practically forcing him to drink. "Banner is the best at what he does. If anyone can help your son, it is he."

Joe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the glass on the coffee table. "Who is _he_ , and who are _you_?"

Thor set the hammer on a small table in a corner. "He is Dr. Bruce Banner, a scientist of much renown. And I am Thor Odinson of Asgard." The man was obviously attempting to make himself believe what he was seeing wasn't real. He drank the entirety of the drink, and Thor took the glass. "Perhaps the others would like refreshment as well."

"In the kitchen. I'll just…" Joe stood, searching his pockets until he remembered his phone had been broken. "I-I need to call the family first."

"Of course."

Joe closed and locked the door before his odd houseguest could follow. Dropping into the chair behind the desk, he took a moment to get his thoughts under control. His elbows thumped on the desk, and he dropped his head into his hands. "It's too soon. Too soon. He's supposed to have _months_."

He rubbed both hands down his face, and looked around for the landline, finding it on the floor where Sean had knocked it. Joe picked it up, set it back in place, picked up the receiver, and dialed from memory. "Karen? It's Joe. You need to come right away… Sean's taken a turn… The doctor's with him now… No, it's someone Justin knows… Don't really have a choice, now, do we? Get here as soon as you can… Zoe's at a friend's house. I'll call and ask them to keep her for a while. I'm sure Justin's already contacted his family… Doesn't matter now _who_ they are, but it's too late to take it back… He found the reports on my laptop. We argued, a-and now it's too late to apologize yet again."

 **The Home of Karen and Luke Abbasi**

Karen hung up the phone with tears in her eyes, and Luke was there to offer comfort. After a moment, she moved away. He handed over her purse and took the car keys from the table by the front door. "Sean's in a coma. The doctor is with him." She gripped her husband's hand. "I'm not ready, Luke. He's my child. _How_ can he die before me?"

He opened the door, ushered her through, and pulled it closed behind them. "As when my father died, there is little I could say at this moment that would ease your suffering, _janam_ , so I will remain a silent presence that offers you and your family comfort in this emotional time."

At the car, Karen smiled. "I am so lucky to have you."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. I chose Karen's Events to plan my mother's sixtieth birthday party because of the photo of you on the website. Your eyes told such stories that I just had to meet you, to hear those stories from your own lips. And from that moment, it became my life's work to win your heart."

Luke started the car and pulled out of the driveway into the street. "I'm so glad you did, or I might be a lonely middle-age woman living in this big old house alone with five cats and four dogs, who plays bridge every Wednesday, Bingo on Friday, and goes to church on Sunday."

"You do that now, my love."

"Yes, but now I do it with you."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

To keep himself busy, Joe cleaned up the mess, putting everything back in its place on the desk. Nothing was broken, not even the laptop. He powered it up, and accessed the email sent by Graham detailing what his CI could find out about the Barnes family.

Numerous photos were included, and now that he had names and faces together, he remembered why James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff seemed vaguely familiar. Until the moment he read the report summary, at no time had he thought that the long-haired man with beard stubble was related to the infamous James Buchanan Barnes of Howling Commandoes fame. Nor had the petite redhead tickled his memories surrounding Battle for New York… until he saw a photo of her dressed as the Black Widow.

If the information in these excessively detailed reports was correct, and he had no reason to doubt, Natasha was more than just a government employee on maternity leave. She was an Avenger. In addition, Bucky's granddaughter was married to his best friend, Steve Rogers, known to the world as Captain America.

Though he was alone, Joe covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. "You're an _idiot_ every day of the week, Riggs, and now you've managed to piss off the Avengers. It's a wonder they haven't killed you yet." He looked up, and leaned back in the chair. "But the night's young, and two of the Avengers are already here."

~~O~~

Justin's pacing annoyed Wanda to the point she had to do something about it. She flicked her fingers, sending a wave of psionic mist in his direction, knocking him backward onto the bed.

"Hey!"

"You are driving me _crazy_ , Justin."

He sat on the side of the bed facing Bruce's back while he inserted an IV to keep Sean hydrated, elbow on the knee, and chin in the palm. "Say something next time, auntie."

With his eyes glued to the monitor on his medical scanner, Bruce murmured, "Don't make me pull this car over."

Stubbornly, Justin and Wanda stayed put.

Exhaling long and loud, Bruce took off his glasses as he turned around. "I'm sorry, Justin. Rather than a single massive stroke, Sean has experienced numerous small strokes occurring within seconds of each other, brought on by the cancer cells cutting off the blood flow to various parts of his brain. For now, his autonomic functions are unaffected, but that won't last."

"Which means?"

"Sean will continue to breathe on his own and his heart to beat…"

Justin got up to pace again, stopping at the window. "Until it doesn't. I get it."

There was a flurry of knocking on the front door, and Thor's deep voice speaking to them. Bruce stood. "I'll tell the family, if you like."

Before he had made the decision, Wanda saw it in his mind, and spoke on his behalf. "Please."

~~O~~

Bruce more than understood Justin's position. He'd been through the exact same thing with Tony regarding Pepper. It wasn't until he brought Natasha to the medical unit that Tony had been able to talk to anyone outside of the medical staff about Pepper's condition.

He put his glasses back on and left the room with Justin and Wanda trailing behind. When Bruce arrived, there had only been the three of them and a huge dog. Now, the living room was filled with people, all watching him expectantly. "I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, a friend of the Barnes family. Justin asked me to have a look at Sean following his collapse."

He waited for questions, but none came, though the older man that was there when he arrived and a woman about the same age came to stand in front of him. "We're Sean's parents, Karen and Joseph. How bad is it?"

"I won't lie to you, it could be worse, but not much. He…"

Joe made a sound of frustration. "It's _my_ fault. We argued again."

Bruce held up the tablet. "I've looked over your son's recent medical records. His health has been fragile for several weeks. It could've happened at any time. While he was sleeping, driving, or taking a shower." He let the family absorb the information for a moment. "All we can do is make him comfortable. Sean should be in a hospital, or hospice care."

Coming up next to him, Justin said just one word, "No."

Taking a step forward, Joe poked the air with a finger. "We're his parents. _You_ don't get to make that decision."

"And _I'm_ his husband. Sean gave me power of attorney, and the will names me executor, and _I_ say he stays here. No hospital, and no hospice."

A smug look took over Joe's features. "Neither document is valid. I never filed with the court."

Not backing down, Justin took up a defensive posture. "I know. That's why Nat had a friend take care of both documents. Sean especially wanted the decisions about his care taken out of your hands. It's my decision where he goes and when." He relaxed his stance. "Sean wanted to die at home, surrounded by his family. That's why I brought him here." He gestured, and Bruce followed him down the hall to the bedroom and closed them inside. "I didn't want to ask this in front of them, Bruce. Is Sean in pain?"

"It's hard to tell. The scans show that the pain receptors in the brain were damaged. It might be that he won't or can't feel pain at all. Or he could be in excruciating pain, and not able to tell us."

"When you leave, could I get something, just in case?"

Bruce knew what he was asking. "Can't do that, Justin. It goes against my principles as a doctor."

Justin waved a hand, telling Bruce he read his intentions wrong. "Not gonna do what you're thinking. I don't want him to suffer. You can understand that, can't you? If you can't tell me whether or not he's in pain, then shouldn't we err on the side of caution?"

"Absolutely. That's why I'm going to hang around for a few days."

"Days? That's all he has?"

Shaking his head, Bruce gave Justin's shoulder a squeeze. "It could be hours, days, or even a couple of weeks. He could have more strokes without us even knowing, after which he'll just quietly slip away, or stay just like he is until the end. Either way, I should be here." Justin inhaled, and Bruce could see a small flicker of hope in his eyes. "Before you ask, no, there is no chance that he'll regain consciousness. Keep that in mind should he have trouble breathing on his own."

Thor filled the doorway with his presence. "I will stay as well. We all need others to lean on in times of trouble."

"Thanks. I'll, uh, get you a room at the motel down the street, and you can use my car to get around. It'll be less conspicuous than the hammer."

Wanda sat on the bed next to Sean, stroking his head and humming what sounded like a lullaby. After a moment, Bruce recognized the tune as "I Dreamed a Dream" sung in Russian, and it made him smile.

~~O~~

Knowing it would come up sooner or later, Justin had done research, finding that most every state criminalized physician-assisted suicide. However, most states do allow family members or doctors to withdraw a life-preserving apparatus, such as feeding tubes or respirators. Euthanasia statutes in Indiana do not allow deliberate mercy killing, but do permit the removal of "life prolonging" procedures in accordance with a patient's wishes.

After Sean's abortive attempt at suicide, Justin had tried on several occasions to have a conversation with him regarding his current circumstances. At first, he steadfastly refused to discuss it, leaving the final decision to Justin as his POA. Eventually, Justin made him see what a strain it would be on his family to be making such difficult decisions. And what if they disagreed? This way, only one person slogged through the miasma of medical decisions, and did what was best for Sean.

Justin looked at all the faces watching him. "If anyone wants a few minutes alone with Sean, you should do it now."

The Riggs family shared glances, and Joe and Karen went down the hall together. Wanda came out, closing the door with a soft click. Justin thought about asking her to eavesdrop, but that would be an invasion of privacy on both their parts, and Sean's parents, brothers and sister deserved time with him before the end.

Leanne went into the kitchen and Justin followed. "Where's Zoe?"

"At a friend's. Joe asked them to keep her overnight."

That Joe would do such a thing made him angry. For Leanne's sake, Justin took a deep breath before speaking. "What if he dies tonight? She'll be upset that she didn't get a chance to say good-bye. Does Joe really want to risk alienating another child?"

Moving around the kitchen, making coffee, Leanne spoke without looking at him. "That's why I called and said to bring her home. She's my child too. Shieldin' her from death will give her the impression that it's something to be feared. Surely, no one _wants_ to die, but it isn't up to us. It's the Almighty's call, and no gettin' around it."

The front door opened, and Zoe ran into the house, through to the kitchen and into Leanne's arms. "Mom-Mom-Mom! Where is he? Where's Sean? I gotta see him!"

"You will, honey. Your dad and Aunt Karen are with him now. After Vinnie and Jessie, it'll be your turn."

Zoe nodded and moved away from Leanne to hug Justin. He picked her up, and the girl wrapped both legs around his waist the same way Gracie had done when he returned from the dead. "I am so lucky to have known you, Zoe."

"Have? Does that mean I'll never see you again?"

Justin felt the heat from Leanne's body at his back. She gripped Zoe's hand where it lay on his shoulder. "You most certainly will, honey. Justin's family, and if there's one thing we've all learned from your daddy's mistakes is that family should be together through thick and thin."

Carrying Zoe over to the chairs at the counter, he sat down, turning her so she was on his lap and he could see her face. He took out his phone and opened the photos. "I can't wait for you to meet Alice and Gracie. Together, you'll be a triple threat."

Her spirits rose at the prospect of having cousins. "Yeah?"

She held the phone while Justin scrolled, giving her the names of everyone. "…this is Gracie. She's going to be eight this year. And this is Alice. I think she's ten, but I'd have to ask her mom and dad."

Peering at the phone, Zoe scrunched her eyes in thought. "Who's that guy?"

"That's Steve, Alice's dad. He's married to my sister Joi from the video chat the other day." He scrolled to another photo. "This is my cousin, Mia, her boyfriend, Sam, and Gracie's mom, Nicole."

The bedroom door opened, and Vinnie went down the hall, giving his parents an unreadable stare on the way. Luke came forward to take Karen's hand and lead her to the sofa. Unable to sit still, Jessie roamed around the room, rubbing the back of his head, avoiding looking at his father.

"After Jessie comes out, it'll be your turn. Want me to go in with you?"

Zoe shook her head. "I'm _not_ a kid, Justin. I can go by myself."

There was a bark followed by whining. Justin set Zoe off his lap and they went to the hallway together. Bear was sitting outside the closed door, whining to be let in. Vinnie opened the door, the dog went in, and he came out. He and Jessie passed each other without speaking.

Jessie stood in the open doorway, fist looking at Sean, at his father then at Sean again. Determination came into his eyes as he marched back to the living room stand in front of Joe. "I hate being a lawyer. I hate listening to people's problems all the time and them expecting me to get them off when I know they're guilty. I hate wearing a suit, and I _really_ hate wearing a tie and working in an office." He laughed without humor. "I love working with my hands, making things, building things. After the first of the year, I'm leaving the firm to open an auto repair and remodeling business."

The youngest Riggs son lifted his chin defiantly, daring Dad to object. He turned on his heel, went back to Sean's room and closed the door.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for Joe's reaction, surprised when his shoulders sagged. "It's about time. I never thought that boy had the guts to stand up to me until now."

Vinnie, Karen, Luke and Leanne exclaimed, "What?!"

Joe shoved his hands into his pockets. "Because of the mistakes I made with Sean, I promised myself I'd let the younger boys make their own paths. It just took Jessie a while to get it."

Everyone looked over at Vinnie, who waved his hands in surrender. "Don't look at _me_. I _love_ my job. Only now I need a new partner."

His father put a hand to his chin, thinking. "What do you say to changing the name of the firm to Riggs, Mayville, Noeding, Wawrzyniak & Riggs? As long as you bring your combined client base with you."

Vinnie stuck out his hand. "Deal."

~~O~~

From across the room, Justin caught Wanda's eye. Keeping a low profile while the family talked, she came around to his side, joined a moment later by Thor and Bruce. "Thanks for helping out, Wanda. You can go on home now. We've got it from here."

"If you do not mind, I will stay." She glanced over her shoulder. "You should not be outnumbered by his side of the family."

Rocking on his toes, Bruce added, "Thor counts as two," he flexed his biceps, "because he is mighty!"

Justin and Wanda chuckled quietly, while Thor just nodded sagely. "You speak the truth, Banner."

"I can take care of myself, guys, but thanks. It'll be nice to have people around I will have my back."

Bruce lowered his voice even more. "You don't have to worry about being kicked out before the end. As you said, you have power of attorney."

Justin sobered. "So, what do we need to do for him when you're not here?"

"I'll leave instructions. Basically, keep him hydrated, and don't leave him in one position for too long. It's recommended that comatose patients be turned every two hours, but I'd rather it was done every hour or so. It helps prevent pneumonia."

Wanda crossed her arms. "I will be there to assist."

"Zoe, honey. Whenever you're ready," Joe called out. She went to him for a hug. "Sure you want to do this? You don't have to."

"Yes, I do."

Everyone watched Zoe, a girl wise beyond her years, make the walk down the hall to say good-bye to a brother she'd only just come to know. She took a deep breath and went inside.

~~O~~

Zoe leaned against the closed door, listening to the vital signs monitor, taking in the IV, and Bear on the bed next to Sean. She walked around to sit on the other side. Taking hold of his hand, she thought about all the things she wanted to say. "From the time I was a little kid, Dad talked about you, told me stories of when you were growing up. The day he told me about you leaving and not coming back, he was so sad I thought he was gonna cry. He didn't much talk to Aunt Karen about anything until I told him I wanted to meet your mom. I told him if you're my brother, that meant she was like another mother for me, and that's why she and Luke come over all the time. I've wanted to meet you for like, ever, and bugged Mom and Dad all the time. Oh! _Not_ because you're a rock star, but because you're my brother." She giggled. "Being a rock star _is_ kinda cool, though, isn't it? I mean, now that the kids at school know I wasn't lying, everyone wants to sit with me at lunch."

Squeezing his hand, she wished he'd squeeze back just once more. "I don't want you to die, but you can't help it. I just wish you could be here for a while longer. Mom would say I'm being selfish, but that's not so. Okay, maybe it is, a little. If you had your way, you wouldn't die for a long time. So, until you're gone for good, I promise to come sit with you every night after school and pretend we're singing and playing the piano together. I'll never forget you, Sean." Zoe put her free hand over her left chest. "Like the song we sang says, you'll always be in my heart. Forever."

Zoe leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, placed his hand on his stomach with the other, and left the room, quietly closing the door. She marched down the hallway, around the end of the sofa, stopping in front of her parents with arms crossed. "I'm going to be a musician like Sean. Just want you to know so we don't have to fight about it later."

With her head held high, Zoe went down the hall to her room and shut the door.

 **Several Days Later**

 **Late Night**

Standing at the window looking out, Justin listened to the machine monitoring Sean's vital signs. He didn't need to hear it to know that he would soon be gone. Making a sound of frustration, he sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes and bristly cheeks. Every time Sean stopped breathing, his heart skipped a few beats, and then it would start again.

Justin lay down on top of the covers staring at the ceiling, wishing for everyone's sake that this was over, so they could mourn and get back to their lives. Zoe had been in earlier, like she was every night, telling him about her day, how much she would miss him, and softly singing what she called their song, "You'll Be in My Heart".

Wanda, bless her, had been there with him every step of the way, helping with Sean's care, and staying with him so Justin could get away for a few minutes. Bruce and Thor made their presence known, and without saying a word, lent the Riggs family their support as well.

Justin sent his family daily updates consisting of two words: no change. They responded by letting him know that Serenity and the twins were doing much better. Having always been active, it rankled that she couldn't fully participate in the life she and Collin had built for themselves.

The door opened, and Wanda stepped in, quietly closing it behind her. He sat up, and she came to sit with him, holding his hand. "Everyone is asleep."

"But not you." She looked down at their clasped hands, not letting him see her face. "It's happening tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes. His brain is losing the ability to keep his body going." Wanda sniffled, and Justin passed her a tissue. "I've looked inside. He is ready for this to be over."

Justin released her and moved over to sit next to Sean. Not long ago, he'd turned him on his back. Like this, he looked like he was sleeping. Without giving it a second thought, he turned off the monitor and removed the IV. He sensed Wanda's presence beside him and took comfort from the hand on his shoulder as Sean took a long breath, and let it out. He took another, and exhaled, and that was the end.

Wanda's hand squeezed his shoulder and he reached up to return the gesture.

 **Shady Rest Funeral Home**

 **A Few Days Later**

Abiding by Sean's wishes, his body had been cremated. On a pedestal at the front of the chapel sat the urn that held his ashes. It looked more like a music box than a traditional urn. Sean had picked it out himself. A photo of Sean sitting at the piano, his elbow next to the music stand, and head leaning on his fist. Below that was his date of birth and date of death. Justin had chosen the quote himself, because it exemplified Sean's passion for music.

 _Music in the soul can be heard by the universe_. ~ Lao Tzu

Songs that Sean had chosen to be played included several of his own, "My Soul is Sleeping", "The Heart of Us", "These Memories", as well as a few by artists he admired. Ambiguous had taken one leg of their European tour in the company of Sarah McLachlan. Justin had located a recording of Sean and Sarah singing her hit song, "I Will Remember You". He felt it especially poignant because Sean had received his diagnosis just a week before and was still in denial.

Justin included a few of his favorites as well: "Tears in Heaven", "Amazing Grace", "Halleluiah", and "Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral". There were a few odd looks at the inclusion of "Jump in the Line (Shake, Señora)", but he didn't care. It was another of Sean's favorites.

The chapel was filled, but not packed. Sean hadn't wanted the general public to know until after the fact, and that was his right. The minister performed his duties, and then it was time for Justin to give his part of the eulogy. He hadn't seen them come in, or even knew they were coming, but there, in the back of the room, Natasha, Bucky, and Pietro sat with Wanda, Bruce, Thor and Clint.

He walked to the podium, gripped the sides, and shifted his weight onto one foot. "When Sean asked me to give the eulogy, my first response isn't repeatable in the house of the Lord or mixed company outside of it." He waited out the nervous titters. "But then, I realized that not many people get the chance to choose who sings their praises after they're gone, no pun intended. Giving this speech today is an honor and a privilege." Sean's extended family took up the front rows and part of the second. As if they knew it was a solemn occasion, the younger kids were sitting quietly.

"I could stand up here all day spouting platitudes, but Sean wouldn't have wanted that. You see, he understood what most of us never do. That there's a certain futility about trying to capture loss or death of a loved one in words. We write songs, poems, even entire books on the subject, reaching out for meaning and contextualization. But the stark and unchangeable reality of decay defiantly resists our efforts to attribute meaning to it. It is in fact so inherently meaningless that it renders all things it touches pointless and insignificant in perpetuity."

Justin shifted his feet and breathed, letting his words soak in. "Sean, like all talented artists, suffered from a form of madness that exists some somewhere between chaos and having a dream. Almost until the day he died, Sean lived within that madness. And if he were here now he'd tell each of us to be the best you you can be. It's no secret that he had been estranged from his family since before we met. However, though he hadn't fully accepted his fate, he took the high road, and reconciled with his loved ones."

He sought out Zoe and smiled. "Our lives are stories, and no matter how much we wish for them to go on forever, eventually we come to the last chapter of that book. In death, we have an ending, but also a beginning, free from pain, suffering, hate, and all the negatives we had to endure with the positives. And so, today we gather not to mourn Sean Patrick Riggs, but to celebrate his life. A life he lived to the fullest."

 **TBC**

"I Dreamed a Dream" is a song from the musical _Les Misérables_. It is a solo that is sung by the character Fantine during the first act. The music is by Claude-Michel Schönberg, with orchestrations by John Cameron. The English lyrics are by Herbert Kretzmer, based on the original French libretto by Alain Boublil and Jean-Marc Natel from the original French production.

"I Will Remember You" is a song written by Sarah McLachlan, Séamus Egan and Dave Merenda.

"Tears in Heaven" is a song by Eric Clapton and Will Jennings, from the 1991 _Rush_ film soundtrack.

"Amazing Grace" is a Christian hymn published in 1779, with words written by the English poet and Anglican clergyman John Newton (1725–1807).

"Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral (That's an Irish Lullaby)" is a classic Irish-American song originally written in 1913 by composer James Royce Shannon (1881–1946) for the Tin Pan Alley musical _Shameen Dhu_.

"Hallelujah" is a song written by Canadian singer Leonard Cohen, originally released on his album _Various Positions_ (1984).

"Jump in the Line (Shake, Señora)" is a song composed by Trinidadian calypsonian Lord Kitchener (Aldwyn Roberts) that won the 1946 Trinidad Carnival Road March. One of the most popular versions was performed by Harry Belafonte in November 1961 for the album _Jump Up Calypso_. It was later featured in the films _Beetlejuice_ , _The Little Mermaid: Ariel's Beginning_ and _Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules_.


	132. Chapter 132

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 132**

 **Sunshine Pilates Studio**

 **Virginia**

"Margo! I'm off to run errands. Want me to bring you something to eat?"

Rey watched the manager and instructor sashay over to the bench where her towel and water bottle lay. Sashay was the only word to use for the way Margo walked. She didn't do it to get attention from the male population. Her natural gate pushed her hips side to side due to having had a broken pelvis many years before. Add that to her slender physique, include the fact that she stood five-ten, and had a bubbly personality, and you got a woman who stopped traffic, even at the age of forty-nine. Men as young as early twenties have asked Margo out. Sadly, she turned them all down to spend evenings with her husband of twenty-three years.

"Please. The usual from Urban Pantry, with extra tomatoes, and a kale and cucumber shake."

Wrinkling her nose, Rey buttoned up her coat. "That vegan place again? I can do vegetarian, but I have to have milk for my cereal, and cheese and sour cream for my tacos and burritos. The real stuff, not almond or coconut."

Margo smiled as she handed over Rey's purse. "I don't hold your food choices against you, Reya. Being married to a man who's a politically incorrect omnivore does that for you."

Rey picked up her keys with a smile. "I won't be gone long. Just meeting Chase and Iris for lunch. Hopefully, it's to say their engagement is finally official. Then picking up the flyers for the holiday specials and stopping by the furniture store to have a look at baby furniture before I decide to buy." At the door, she waved. "See ya!"

 **Percy's Restaurant**

Chase finished off his soft drink and signaled for another, using the moment of distraction to check the time. It wasn't like Rey to be late for anything, especially meals. Iris took his hand to get his attention. "Relax. She's probably just stuck in traffic."

His shoulders slumped, and a smile came to his face. "You're right."

"If she's not here in ten minutes, I'll call her myself." Iris's phone buzzed. She picked it up to read the alert, turning it so Chase could read it as well. "See? There's a five-car accident on the 495 southbound just before the 66 junction. Traffic's being rerouted."

"That's the way she'd come from the studio." Over the bar, the current program was interrupted for a special news report on the accident. The shakiness of the video indicated that the cameraperson was circling the accident, moving right to left. Something he saw made Chase sit up. "That looks like Rey's."

Iris was already on her phone, searching for more information. "Don't panic, Chase. Lots of people own that same SUV." Suddenly, she gripped his arm. "Oh, my God! Look!"

On the screen, they saw EMT's loading an unconscious woman onto a stretcher. There was dried blood on her forehead and temple and in her hair. Her left arm and leg were in splints, and there was a cervical collar around her neck. The clincher was the enlarged abdomen that anyone who didn't know she was pregnant might mistake for chubbiness.

Chase exchanged a glance with Iris. She gripped his hand briefly. "Go! I'll take care of this. Call me."

~~O~~

Skidding to a stop on a side street, Chase slammed the car into park, got out, and ran in the direction of the accident. He leaped over the police tape and was stopped by a cop. "Whoa there, pal. Stay behind the tape."

Chase pointed at the SUV with the smashed in front driver's side. "That's my friend's car. I need to know if she's okay."

Having heard it all before, the cop forced him back. "Fine. But ya still gotta stay behind the tape."

"No-no-no! You don't understand! My friend, her name is Reya Medina. She's-she's five-five, thirty-two, brown hair, green eyes, and almost five months pregnant. I saw video of her being put in an ambulance. Please! You gotta tell them about the baby!" Chase knew he was pleading like a murder suspect caught with a smoking gun but didn't care. All that mattered was Rey and her baby.

The cop's eyes widened. He pointed at Chase. "Stay!" Into his radio, he said, "Charlie 1-4 this is Tango 9-5. You copy?"

The radio crackled, and a man's voice came on. " _Roger that, 9-5. Go ahead_."

"You got a Reya Medina onboard? Thirty-two, five-five, brown, green?"

" _Yeah. How'd you know?_ "

The cop's stern expression fell. "Got a guy here she's almost five months pregnant." There was no immediate answer, and Chase wanted to grab the cop and shake him. "1-4, you _read_?"

In the near distance, a siren blasted through the cacophony of other sounds. " _Roger, 9-5. We got 'er. Puttin' the hammer down to City General_."

Relieved and scared at the same time, Chase ran back to his car, shoved the key in the ignition, and pulled away from the curb while buckling his seatbelt and addressing the on-board computer. "Call Iris."

She picked up immediately. " _Chase! What's going on? Is it Rey?_ "

"Yeah. I'm on my way to the hospital, City General." He signaled and made a turn, bumping his speed up past the legal limit.

In the background, he heard Iris's car start up. "I'm heading back to the club. Let me know what happens."

Chase ended the call without responding, knowing Iris would understand. "Breathe, Lockwood. Maybe it's not as bad as it looked. Rey and the baby are probably fine and you're panicking for nothing."

 **City General Hospital**

 **Emergency Room**

A man in blue scrubs came through the automatic doors. "Reya Medina."

Chase jumped up. "Here."

"I'm Dr. Solanski, the general surgeon on duty. Are you Ms. Medina's husband?"

"No. I'm Chase Lockwood, a friend. She's not married and doesn't have any family. Um, I should also be in her phone as an emergency contact along with my fiancée, Iris Castillo."

Solanski went to the reception desk and spoke to the nurse. She handed him a large manila envelope. "Here're her personal belongings. We haven't had a chance to go through them yet. I'll also need to see ID."

In a daze, Chase handed over his driver's license with one hand while taking the envelope with the other. He fished inside for her phone. Thankfully, though the screen was cracked, it powered up. He scrolled her contacts down to the ICE listing and passed it to the doctor. He compared the information to his license and passed both back. "Come with me, please, Mr. Lockwood." He followed the doctor into a private room and closed the door. "I'm afraid the news is not good. Ms. Medina is being prepped for surgery to stop internal bleeding. You need to be prepared for the possibility that she may lose the baby. We haven't told her because she hasn't regained consciousness yet. Now that you're here, you can sign the consent forms."

"Yeah, sure. How-how long 'til you know?"

Solanki glanced at the clock. "I need to get up there. We should know something in a couple of hours. Fourth floor surgical unit. Just tell the receptionist your name and who you're there for. She'll give you documents to sign."

The man disappeared so quickly, Chase barely new he was gone except for the closing of the automatic doors. He rushed down the hall to the stairwell, taking it up to the fourth floor. Before he went into the waiting room, he made one of the most difficult calls of his life. "Justin, I know you're still at Sean's funeral, and I'm sorry to do this now. You know I wouldn't if it wasn't important. I-I need you to call me as soon as possible. Please."

 **The Riggs Family Home**

 **South Bend, Indiana**

Leaving Leanne to finish setting up for their visitors, Justin went down the hall to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway. "What are you _doing_?"

Karen was on a stepstool, using a bath towel to cover the mirror. She nearly fell, and Justin caught her with ease. He set her on the floor and took the towel. "Oh, nothing. It's just that Emma's Jewish, and I wanted her to feel comfortable."

Confused, Justin said, "Don't get it."

"The week-long mourning period after the death of a loved one is called Shiva, and in a Shiva house, the mirrors are covered to symbolize the absence of vanity and self-indulgence in a place of grief." Justin covered the mirror while Karen explained. "Technically, the relatives of the deceased sit on chairs or sofas that have no cushions. It's a throwback to a time when sitting on the ground symbolized mourning. Then there's the custom of wearing a shirt or ribbon that has been torn over the heart. It means grief that tears at the heart. Going barefoot is another tradition because shoes were once seen as luxury items." She smiled at him. "But I don't think we have to go that far when it's so cold out." Tears welled up in her eyes, and Justin took her in his arms. "I just don't want anyone to feel more awkward than they already are."

"What about the Pakistani traditions?"

"Oh, now that's a _whole_ different set of rules. Mourning a close relative lasts three days, but no loud crying or acting out during the Hidaad because some believe it causes the person's spirit anguish. Now, for women who have lost a husband, the mourning last four months and ten days. During that time, she's not allowed to wear perfume or jewelry, and she can only leave the home for work and errands. It's called the Iddah, and its purpose is to make sure the woman isn't pregnant. But that's irrelevant because Sean's male. There's even a washing and shrouding ritual to get the deceased ready for burial, which ideally, should be within twenty-four hours after death. And that's just the beginning."

"That explains the 'Allahu Akbar' he whispered every time we prayed." Karen moved away from Justin, and he handed her a box of tissues. "Sean was an agnostic when we first met. But I think it kinda changed toward the end. I'm sure he appreciates being honored with the traditions of people who barely knew him."

Suddenly embarrassed at their conversation, Karen tossed the tissues in the trash, and washed and dried her hands. "I, uh, I should help Leanne finish setting up."

"You know her better than I do. Tell me, do _all_ southerners use every life event as an excuse to have a pot luck?"

Finally, Karen laughed. "The way Leanne tells it, yes. At the first sign of a wedding, baby shower, birthday, anniversary or funeral, southerners turn into a highly trained team deploying casseroles, constructing seating charts, polishing the silverware, and cooking up a storm, spreading southern hospitality all over the place. In her words, 'bein' dead's no excuse for being inhospitable'."

There was a knock on the front door, causing Bear to bark. The poor dog had slept in Sean's bed every night since he passed, and now his home was being invaded by friends and strangers alike. "You get the door, Karen. I'll put Bear out back." Sean's mother rushed to the door, and Leanne joined her, wiping her hands on her apron. Justin took hold of Bear's collar. "Sorry about this, boy, but you gotta stay outside until everyone's gone."

The dog went out, turned around, and gave Justin such a look of sadness that he almost let him back in. Then, he heard familiar voices, and went to greet Bucky, Natasha, Pietro, Wanda and Clint.

~~O~~

While her parents were talking to their guests, Zoe snuck down the hall to the room Sean had shared with Justin and let herself in. Going to the closet, she opened the door. Justin's clothes hung on the left and Sean's on the right. No one had come to take them away yet, for which she was thankful. She sorted through Sean's clothes, taking down all of his graphic t-shirts, including the one he'd worn to her school, his leather jacket, and the one vest he'd worn at her urging. At the last second, she took one from Justin's side of the closet as well. It was the shirt he'd worn the day of their wedding.

Zoe opened the door just a crack. Seeing the hallway was empty, she slipped out, closed the door, and ran down to her room, where she hung the clothes in the back of her closet. Aside from her memories and the CDs, it was all she had of the brother she'd met, come to love, and lost within a few weeks time. And Sean wasn't the only one. She also adored Justin. When he and Sean had gotten married, that meant he became _her_ brother too. Like she told Sean that first day, she didn't believe in half of anything when it came to family. The same went for her brothers' wives and girlfriends. Family is family.

Returning to the living room, Zoe went to the front hall closet for her backpack, but it wasn't there. Then she remembered it was still in Justin's car. She found Justin talking to old friends of Sean's who hadn't seen him in several years. "Justin?"

He excused himself, and gave her his full attention. "What's up, Zoe?"

"My backpack's in your car."

He passed over the keys. "Bring my phone in too, would you? It's in the cup holder."

"Sure." Zoe told her mom where she was going, and slammed the front door behind her. Using the fob, she unlocked the car doors, and climbed in the back seat for her backpack. She put it on, and picked up Justin's phone. Unlike her mom's, which was pink with flowers, his had a plain black cover. She'd just locked the doors again when the phone vibrated with an incoming phone call. The caller ID had a photo of Justin's twin, Chase. She answered it. "Justin's phone. Zoe speaking."

There was a moment of silence before Chase answered. " _Hey, Zoe. Chase here. Remember me? I'm Justin's brother. Is he around?_ "

His voice sounded odd, like he was scared or nervous or something. "Yeah. He's in the house. Want me to get him?"

" _If you would. It's very important_."

"Okay. Hold on." Zoe ran inside, took off her backpack, tossed it in the front closet, and pushed her way through the people to Justin's side. "It's Chase. Wants to talk to you _now_."

~~O~~

Justin took the phone, ran a hand down Zoe's hair in thanks, and went out the back door to the patio. "Chase?"

A long sigh of relief came through. " _Finally! I've been calling you for_ _hours_. _Why haven't you called me back?_ "

" _Oh, I don't know, troglodyte. Maybe it's because I was at a funeral_."

To his surprise, Chase didn't rise to the dual bait of sarcasm and the nickname. " _Yeah, yeah! I_ _know_ _. Look, you gotta come home, like_ _now_."

"Way to go with all the compassion, bro." Justin's voice dripped with sarcasm. "What's next? Stealing candy from babies? Squirting kids with the hose when they wander into your yard looking for their ball?"

Even through the phone Justin could hear frustration, with more than a little fear. " _Shut the **** up and_ _listen_ _! You need to come home, and I mean_ _now_ _! As fast as you can. Faster!_ "

Justin went out to the picnic table in the yard in case he needed to yell, facing the house, elbows on the table behind him. "Let's do this again, Chase. Slowly so you get it. My husband is dead. His funeral was today, and we have a houseful of guests here to honor the dearly departed, including Gramps, Nat, the twins and Clint. What about that _don't_ you understand?"

Chase took a long, deep breath and let it out, the way he did when he was trying not to lose his temper. He didn't often explode, but when he did, you were picking temper out of your hair for days. Finally, he spoke again, but this time, his voice was different, softer, strained, as if he were on the verge of crying. " _Justin, please, come home. As soon as you can. It's-it's Rey_."

Hearing the name of the woman he loved made Justin sit up and pay attention. "What about her?"

" _There was an accident. She's, uh, she's in surgery_." Chase got up to pace. " _I-I've called you like a million times_. _They've been in there for three *******_ _hours_ _!_ "

Sensing his distress, Bear came over and laid his head in Justin's lap. "Why so long?"

" _Can't say over the phone, but there's more to it than the injuries from the accident. Just… get here soon, okay?_ "

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I will. And you watch out for her." Justin hung up. Before he reached the door, Wanda came out, her already large eyes wide and frightened. Had he broadcast his emotions that loudly? "Where're Gramps and Nat?"

"They are saying good-bye to Vinnie, Jessie and their families. The little ones are getting restless, so they must take them home."

He paced nervously back and forth, stopping abruptly as something occurred to him. "Clint! Where's Clint?"

One side of her mouth turned up in a small smile. "He's at the buffet with Pietro… again."

"Can you get him…"

Wanda's eyes unfocused momentarily. The back door opened, and Clint came out, holding a plate of food. "You called? What's up?"

Before Justin could tell the story, Natasha, Bucky and Pietro joined them. "I just spoke to Chase. Rey was in an accident. He wasn't sure how bad, but I need to get home. Clint, could you give me a ride? Driving time is…"

"Ten hours," Natasha supplied. "That'll take too long."

Pietro held Justin by the upper arm. "Come, nephew. I will take you. It will take less time than flying."

"Won't Sean's family think it odd when you and I disappear at the same time?"

Bucky patted him on the back for comfort. "We'll tell them you have an emergency without giving specifics, and that Pietro went with you to keep you company." He held up a finger. "Don't forget to say good-bye to everyone, and thank them for their hospitality."

Justin nodded. They parted so he could go inside. Being as inconspicuous as possible, he moved through the people and down the hall to the room to pack. Standing in the closet doorway, he stared at Sean's clothes hanging on the right, thinking something was wrong, but unable to get his mind to focus. He yanked his clothes off the hangers, tossed jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and his leather jacket on the bed. The rest, he shoved into his bag. There wasn't enough room for the extra clothes and other items he bought, so he pulled down one of Sean's that was heavier than it should be. He unzipped it, and inside was a disassembled nine-millimeter handgun. It had to be the one Sean had planned to use to kill himself. "That would've done it."

He shoved clothes in with it, hurried down the hall to the bathroom for his toiletry items, and came back. After one last check of the room, he stripped out of the cheap suit he bought for the service, and quickly changed. He left the suit on the bed, zipped up the bags, and opened the bedroom door to find Zoe standing there. How did she always know? Making an attempt at a smile, he greeted her, "Oh, hey, Zoe. Uh…"

The look on her face reminded Justin of Sean when he was disappointed. "You're leaving."

The bags hit the floor as he dropped into a crouch and brushed a hand down her cheek. "Yeah. I gotta go. There's an emergency at home. I wasn't gonna leave without saying good-bye."

She looked skeptical. "Really?"

"Really. I'd _never_ do that to you. Ever." She threw herself into his arms. "I love you, Zoe. Always will."

"I love you too, Justin. Promise you'll come back to see us?"

He smiled, and held tighter. "Promise. Maybe you could come see me sometime. I really want you to meet Gracie and Alice."

"And Chase."

Justin stood, picked up his bags, and took Zoe's hand. "Why _him_? He's not as good looking as me." That made her laugh as they walked down the hall. Bucky and Natasha were already standing with Leanne, Joe, Karen and Luke. "Hey, Gramps. You told them?"

Natasha held his hand for a moment. "We did, and they understand."

Relieved, Justin shook hands with the men. "It's been… eventful meeting all of you." He hugged Karen then Leanne. "We're family now. Come visit us in D.C. Spring break, or maybe Easter."

He took his leave of those of Sean's friends who were still there, and he and Pietro finally escaped out the front door. "So, uncle, do you know the way to City General Hospital?"

"I believe so. And if not, it will not take long to get you there." Pietro took his bags and put them in his arms. Next, he put his right arm down along his neck, the palm of his hand holding the back of his head.

"What're you doing?"

Pietro grinned. "I'm holding your neck so you don't get whiplash."

Justin frowned over his shoulder at the boy. "What?"

"Whip… lash," he carefully enunciated.

Before Justin could comment or ask what he meant, they were on the move.

 **City General Hospital**

 **Fourth Floor Surgical Wing**

Justin took the stairs to the fourth floor, bursting out of the stairwell, and looking around for his brother. "Chase!"

The brothers hugged, and Chase drew him down the hall to a private waiting room where they could be alone. "That was fast. Pietro?"

"Yeah. So, what happened? You said something about a car accident."

"There was a huge pile-up on the 495. Two people were dead at the scene. Rey's SUV took a beating too. Broken left wrist and ankle, and some internal bleeding in her abdomen." Chase looked at the floor. "You might want to sit down for this next part."

His mouth suddenly dry, Justin swallowed. "Is she… She's not…"

"No. The nurse came out a few minutes before you arrived." Before Justin could ask another question, Chase continued. "I told you there was something more going on. But you gotta understand, she made me promise not to tell _anyone_."

"Tell me what?" His twin paced to the door and turned around.

~~O~~

Leaning in the corner out of the way, Chase watched Justin pacing the length of the room, yelling and swinging his arms. By his count, Justin had used at least two different languages, neither one English. It wasn't long before a nurse knocked on the door. He opened it just far enough to whisper, "Sorry. He's upset."

The woman gave him a stern look of annoyance and disapproval. "He needs to be upset a little quieter before we call security."

He closed the door and leaned against it, and on Justin's next pass, he stuck a foot out and tripped him. Justin swung around with murder in his eyes that was similar, yet different than when he was still under the control of HYDRA. "Stop _yelling_ at me in languages I don't understand!"

Justin reared back as if he'd been struck. "What?"

"I don't know Russian or whatever that other language was." He turned him around, forcing him to sit on the sofa. "Now, talk to me, and speak English this time."

"Urdu." Clasping his hands between his knees, Justin looked at Chase from the side. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She made me promise even before I knew what it was."

"It's just… If I knew, I would've…" Justin surged to his feet, and Chase was sure he'd go into another full-speed rant, but all he did was lean against the wall with his arms crossed. "I would've done the right thing. I mean, you know, if she said…"

Dr. Solanski tapped on the door and let himself in. "Mr. Lockwood?"

Both men said, "Yes?"

Confused, the doctor looked from one to the other. " _Chase_ Lockwood."

To keep Justin from getting angry again, Chase stepped between them. "It's okay. You can talk in front of my brother."

"Wanted you to know that Ms. Medina will be in recovery for a few hours. Once we've moved her to a private room, she can have visitors." The next part he aimed at Justin. "But if you upset her more than she already will be, security will be happy to escort you from the premises." He nodded once more and left them alone.

Justin didn't say anything for a long time, choosing to rub the back of his head and mutter under his breath. "Hey, where're your bags?"

"Uncle took them home with him. Can't bring a gun into a hospital."

Chase sputtered, unable to speak until he took a deep breath. "Gun? Why the hell would you be carrying a gun?"

"It was Sean's. Didn't want his family to find it, especially not Zoe." Finally, he smiled. "Thought Nat might like to add it to her collection."

Thinking that over, Chase blinked a few times. "Nat has a _collection_?"

Spreading his hands to the side, Justin's mouth twisted into a half-smile. "Dude, she's an _assassin_. She absolutely has a collection."

Moving in to put his arm around his twin's shoulders, Chase turned them toward the exit. "Let's go get some rest and we'll come back when Rey's awake."

"I'll need to borrow your car. Mine's still in Indiana. Gramps, Nat and Wanda are gonna drive it back."

"Bro, you can borrow anything of mine except Iris."

The elevator door closed them inside and started down. "So, tell me, _bro_ , when are you and the amazing Iris going to make it official?"

Chase laughed. "Make what official? We're living together. Andre took over the condo and has had several run-ins with the head of the HOA. On the other hand, he's taking her on a date next week, so there's that."

Wincing, Justin looked over at him. "She'll eat him alive."

"Don't worry. I think he can handle her just fine." The elevator stopped, and they got out. "Listen, uh, about before, you do know that you weren't the only one in the picture, right?"

"Still, I would've insisted…"

In the lobby, Chase stopped Justin with a hand against his chest. "And she would've told you where to put it, _again_. Rey's a little hard-headed, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, believe me, I noticed. It's one of the things I love about her. She's not like most of the guys _or_ girls I've dated. Makes me work for what I want, and I'm willing to put in the time."

Turning serious, Chase leaned close and lowered his voice. "Then why did you really marry Sean?"

Casting a glance around to make sure no one was listening, he said, "Told you before. I knew he was dying and wouldn't be around much longer. I wanted his last days to be the way he wanted them. He had plans to ask me. I just beat him to the punch. It's just… I thought we'd have more time. A couple of months at least. And I did-do love him. I just…"

"You love Rey more." Chase got them moving again. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

~~O~~

The valet brought Chase's car. They got in, and once they were in traffic, Justin stared out the window, a hand to his chin in thought. "What's Mia up to?"

"The usual. Being secretive about some project she and Joi got going. Why?"

"You're not going to believe this… Sean left Mia a note."

Chase merged onto the highway, joining the post-lunch traffic. "Again, _why_? They got along like oil and water, gas and fire, chocolate and chili peppers."

Holding up a finger, Justin turned to look at his brother. "Actually, chili pepper in chocolate is pretty good. Remember Joi's hot chili pepper truffles, that spicy hot chocolate she made for Christmas one year, and the pudding?"

"And the cake she made on the show! Yeah, that was the best ever." Snorting, Chase shook his head. "You changed the subject. Why would Sean write a note to Mia, of all people? They argued all the time."

"Promise you won't… um, all of the above?" Chase made a hurry up motion. "They had sex, and apparently it was so good, Sean kinda-sorta fell a little in love with her."

 **News Release to Social Media**

 _We are heartbroken to share the news that our son, Sean Patrick Riggs, founder of the band Ambiguous, has passed away following an extended battle with cancer. He was laid to rest this past weekend surrounded by family and friends._ __

 _To all who knew him, Sean was a loving son, brother, uncle, and friend._ __

 _Sean Riggs was also a talented musician who performed as the lead singer and guitarist of Ambiguous. From the time he was a child, he had always believed that by entertaining others, he was just doing his job, what God had put him on this earth to do._

 _Our son was also a staunch advocate of the SPCA, school musical programs and cancer research, long before contracting the condition himself._ __

 _As much as Sean cherished his privacy during his illness, he always appreciated his fans as they were the reason he was able to pursue the dream of performing his music._ __

 _While we mourn the loss of a very good man, we also celebrate his remarkable life and hope that it serves as an example to others around the world to work hard to make their dreams come true. Be willing to explore and push the limits, and to selflessly serve a cause greater than themselves._ __

 _For those who may ask what they can do to honor our son, we say believe in yourself, follow your heart, live your dream. If you wish to do more, please have it in your heart to donate to the causes near and dear to his heart. Thank you for your support._

 _Joseph Riggs and Karen Abbasi_

 **TBC**


	133. Chapter 133

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

 **Warning:** Mascara alert!

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 133**

While waiting for Rey to wake up, Justin dropped Chase off at Tunnel Vision and went back to Bucky's house to get his bags from Pietro. He also wanted to have a little cat-dad and kitten time with Dexter. The kitten was excited to see him, meowing louder than ever under the watchful eyes of Ryder and Priscilla as their charge was taken away. Justin walked around with the kitten on his shoulder, the other cats following and watching to make sure he didn't do anything of which they wouldn't approve.

His phone buzzed a reminder, which was puzzling because he didn't recall adding one for anything. Justin accessed the info, discovering that Sean had apparently gotten ahold of his phone at some point and entered numerous reminders for him to call the lady from _T_ _he Next American Star_ to set up an audition. He hadn't planned on making a call, but Sean had been adamant that he at least tryout, to the point where an attempt had been made to trick him into agreeing. And he was right. It _was_ a last request from a dying friend.

Justin put Dexter down and went into the den, closing the door before any of the cats could follow. In seconds, there were paws waving under the door trying to get his attention.

First, he removed the reminders, and took a seat on the sofa in the corner. Everything else had been moved out, the computer, printer, file cabinet, desk, chairs, and the safe from the closet. Just the small sofa and one lamp remained.

He dialed the number in the text Wanda sent and he hadn't bothered to delete. It was answered by a woman who sounded harried.

" _Monroe McKinney. Speak to me and make it fast_."

"My name is Justin Lockwood. I…"

She interrupted him, and now her voice had a smile in it. " _Yes! I remember. My son sent a video of you entertaining at a Halloween party._ _You_ _are a talented young man, Justin_."

Embarrassed by the praise, he tried to get her back on track. "Thank you, Ms. McKinney…"

" _Monroe, please. What instruments do you play?_ "

"Piano and guitar. Is playing an instrument a requirement for being on the show?"

Justin heard voices in the background and Monroe covered the speaker, muffling the sound. Then she was back. " _Requirement? No, but it puts you ahead of those who can't play. Dancing."_

"Pardon?"

" _What about dancing? Can you?_ "

Surprised at the question, Justin answered without thinking. "If you want to call it that."

She appeared not to hear him. " _We'll be in the D.C. area after the first of the year. I'll have my assistant send you an invite in the mail, which you'll have to show at the door. If you're chosen, rehearsals begin after Valentine's Day to give the contestants time to take a leave of absence from their jobs and make arrangements for someone to watch their pets and/or children for a few weeks, if you have either or both. Once you're approved to be on the show, you'll be assigned a mentor who helps choose your material, clothing, and so forth, while making sure you're in the right place at the right time_."

 _Not too bad, so far_. "Monroe, what happens if I'm approved and I decide not to participate?"

" _Why nothing, dear boy. You just won't be invited back_." She paused to take a drink. " _If you're not sure you want to audition, why did you return my call?_ "

Justin got up to pace. "You could say I'm doing it for a friend. He passed away last week, and I sort of promised him I'd at least go to the first audition."

She chuckled softly, with sympathy. " _That_ _old trope. Well, I'd say you're a good friend, if you're going through with it even after he's gone. I have to go, Justin. I'll see you in a few weeks_."

With a self-satisfied smile, Justin ended the call. "This is for you, Sean. Don't make me regret it."

"To whom are you speaking?"

Justin saw Pietro standing in the doorway and held up the phone. "Mind if I stay the night, uncle? Rey's in the hospital, and this is closer than my apartment."

"Please do, nephew. I will ask Wanda if you can use her room." Pietro walked up the stairs and down the hall, already on the line with his sister. " _If he stays more than one night, I will have him move to the sofa_."

 **City General Hospital**

 **Rey's Room**

Groaning, Rey opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light of the hospital room. She knew by the smell where she was. Lifting her right hand to brush the hair from her face, she noticed that her left leg was elevated and covered with a sheet.

 _What the hell happened?_ Her head fell back to the pillow. _Oh, right. The accident_. Peering into the dark corner of the room, she saw a figure, but couldn't tell who it was. "Who's there?"

The chair creaked as her visitor stood. "It's me, Minx."

"Harry. Ugh. How long have I been here?"

He leaned on the safety bar. "Not sure. Snuck in when the nurse wasn't looking. It took some fancy footwork to find out where the ambulance had taken you after I saw the accident on the news."

Rey located the controls and raised the head of the bed. Her left arm was covered by an elastic bandage, supported by a sling. "What's wrong with me?"

"The staff won't discuss it with me because I'm not family. At a guess, I'd say bruised, sprained or dislocated left arm," he lifted the sheet so she could see there was a cast on the leg, "and a broken leg, complete with…" Harry pointed to his own head, "…a concussion, bumps, bruises, and stitches on the surgical incisions."

Fear and panic hit Rey like a freight train. "Surgery?" Lifting the covers and gown, she saw bandages on her stomach. She couldn't help it. She started to cry. "Wh-where's the doctor? I need to see the doctor _now_." He looked like a deer in headlights, and it made her mad. "Get the ******* doctor!"

Harry dashed out into the hall and came back with a woman in white scrubs. He stepped out and closed the door. The nurse checked her vital signs while speaking in a soft, soothing voice. "Good to see you awake, Ms. Medina. You have quite a fan club. We've had several calls from friends wanting to know how you are. Of course, we couldn't give them any information without your permission. You just let us know who…"

Rey grabbed her hand, on the verge of panic. " _Please_ , tell me. Is my baby okay?"

~~O~~

As Justin approached Rey's room, he saw her ex-fiancé loitering in the hall. He turned around, recognition in his eyes. "Justin, right?"

"And you're Harry." They shook hands. "I guess she's with the doctor."

"Nurse. Are you and Rey…"

Justin shook his head. "Not at the moment. Her idea."

"That's Rey. Headstrong, stubborn, courageous." Harry raised a qualifying finger. "Except when she sees…"

"Spiders." Justin grinned. "Yeah, I know. Killed my share at her request."

Harry let out a small chuckle. "You mean _demand_. Loudly."

He had to admit the ex was right. The door opened, and the nurse came out. She pulled the door closed behind her. Justin didn't like the expression on her face at all. "Give Ms. Medina a few minutes before going in."

She gave them a sad smile and went down the hall to a computer station to make notes.

Harry looked at Justin, and Justin looked back. "So, Harry, coffee?"

His companion nodded once. "I'll buy."

They turned as one toward the elevator and rode down the first floor in silence.

~~O~~

The knock at the door startled Rey. She wiped the moisture from her cheeks, turned out all the lights except the one over the sink, and pulled the sheet up to her chest. "Come in."

She went slack-jawed at seeing Justin with Harry, the two of them acting like old friends. But that's how they both were, and the main reason she'd fallen for them. "Hey."

Harry came over to kiss her on the cheek. "You look good for someone who's been in an accident. That black eye really sets off the gown. I got you this." He laid a small box of her favorite chocolates on her lap. "Chocolate makes almost any situation better."

He stepped back to let Justin close to the bed. Rey inhaled sharply and turned her head so that his lips hit her other cheek instead of her lips. To hide his embarrassment, he set a small basket next to her. It was covered in clear plastic and tied with a green ribbon. "And I got you this. It's an assortment of your favorite teas, a small bottle of honey I'm told is truly exquisite, and a cup to drink it in. Look at it."

"Thank you both." Having the full use of only one arm made it awkward to lift the package, and Justin was quick to help, turning it around so she could see the writing.

 _You're awesome! Keep that shit up!_

Pursing her lips to keep from smiling, she passed the basket and the chocolates over. "Put those on the table for me, please."

Justin did as she asked, and moved back to stand next to Harry, each man giving the other a side-eye. Eventually, Justin cleared his throat. "We, uh, heard about your… loss. If there's anything either of us…" His voice petered out, and he looked like someone had put itching powder in his pants.

Harry nudged him, motioning for him to continue, but he didn't say another word. Scowling, Rey's ex stage whispered, "Justin has more to say, _don't you_?" He gave him a small push, and he took a step forward.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you and the, uh, the baby that I didn't know about." Justin looked to Harry for support and got a shoulder a squeeze and a smile. "I wasn't going to ask, but Harry insisted…"

"You want to know which of you is the father of the baby I lost." Mutely, Justin nodded. Rey crossed her good arm over the other and gave him a pointed look, which confused him. He looked over at Harry, who was smirking. One eyebrow rose.

Justin's eyes widened. His jaw went slack, and he pointed at himself. "I-I … How… Are you…"

"Don't need a DNA test to know you're the one, Justin."

"Right," agreed Harry. "See, I had a vasectomy long before I met Rey, so it couldn't have been me."

Rey lifted her chin. Harry took the hint and left them alone. The door clicked shut, and the amusement at Justin's reaction stayed, but her smile left. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I made a promise to myself, and to Cleo, that I'd tell you before Thanksgiving."

Justin let the rail down on that side, and rested a hip on the mattress next to her. He held her hand, and she saw that those blue eyes still held more darkness than any brown eyes she'd ever seen before as they roamed over her features. "That's what the text was about?"

"Yeah." The right shoulder lifted a fraction of an inch because it hurt to move it more than that. "How was I supposed to know you'd run off and get married?"

For the first time since he arrived, Justin smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. "If it's any consolation, I'm a, what, a widow? Widower? Widowerer?" he finished uncertainly.

She clamped her lips together, just now realizing that he was still mourning Sean. "I'm sorry. I-it's the pain meds, I think. Just can't help saying stupid stuff. We both lost someone, and you lost twice without even knowing."

For a moment, his hand hovered over her abdomen then slowly and gently caressed the place where their child had been a few short hours ago. He stopped, his fingers curling into a loose fist, and he cleared his throat as if preparing to speak.

Rey had thought she was ready for any reaction to the news that they _were_ going to be parents and now they're not, but she was wrong. In the little bit of light that sneaked through the gap in the curtains, his eyes welled up and his lower lip quivered. And soon, she saw two little tears make tracks down his cheeks and disappear into his beard. He laid his head on her chest, pulled her close and cried. Her good arm snaked around his neck, and because _he_ was crying, Rey cried too. Probably would for weeks, and now she knew he'd be there to share her pain, and she could share his.

 **Iris and Chase's Home**

The couple awoke to pounding on the front door that set Dakota barking. Reluctantly, Chase eased away from Iris and got out of bed. "I'll go. It's probably my idiot brother."

"Or _my_ idiot brother," Iris murmured sleepily and pulled the covers over her head. "Whateva. Tell 'im to get lost."

Out in the hall, Chase scratched his chest on the way to the door. "Dakota! Quiet!" He opened the front door, and as he thought, Justin stood there looking like five miles of bad road. Standing back, he gestured him in. "Keep your voice down. Iris has to be up early." He shuffled into the kitchen and Justin followed. "Want a drink?"

" _Yes_. Anything alcoholic."

Justin's voice sounded heartbroken and cheerless. He poured two glasses of wine, handed one to Justin, and sipped from his own while his brother swallowed the entire glass in one go. Reaching into the 'fridge, Chase grabbed the bottle, pointed, and trailed after Justin into the living room. He refilled Justin's glass and set the bottle within easy reach. He drained the glass and grabbed the bottle for another round. "I take it you talked to Rey. She told you everything?"

"Yeah." Rubbing his eyes, Justin leaned back on the sofa, looking tired and rung out. "Sorry for all those things I said before."

"No need. The cause was sufficient."

He rubbed his face while making an odd sound. "If you only knew some of the names I called you, you'd never speak to me again."

Chase brought the glass to his mouth. "Then it's a good thing I didn't understand." He sipped the wine, watching his brother holding it all it. "Because I'm her emergency contact, the doctor told me all of it, and I told Iris, but no one else. With three other pregnant women in the family, we do _not_ want a panic on our hands."

Justin planted his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between them. Then, he looked at Chase, eyebrows drawn together over his nose. " _Three_? Serenity, Nat and who else?"

"Well, it's not official yet, so maybe I shouldn't say anything."

"Chase."

If he had yelled or demanded or ranted, he would've been able to stand up to him. Keep his mouth shut until they knew for sure, but that quiet, almost pleading little boy lost tone did him in. "Mia's offered to be a surrogate for Joi and Steve, and they accepted. Joi went with her to have the insemination a couple of days after you went to Indiana, so they should be finding out any day now if she's pregnant."

Chase watched light dawn in Justin's eyes as he slowly stood and walked over to the fireplace, leaning on the mantel with both hands. "Sonofa _bitch_!" A crunching noise followed, and wood chips floated down to coat the hearth.

"Sh!"

Hand rubbing the back of his head, Justin paced back and forth with quick steps, stopping suddenly. "Oh, _God_. Why didn't I see it before? That's why Sean and Mia…"

Understanding dawned and Chase went to stand next to his twin. "You mean Mia's quite possibly pregnant with _Sean's_ baby?"

Justin nodded, smiling ruefully. "Yeah. What a kicker, huh?"

Unable to stop himself, Chase followed his older brother's example, at a lower volume. "Sonofa _bitch_."

One side of Justin's mouth turned up in a lopsided smile that had more than a taste of _this is so ******* weird_. "Told you."

They stood in the living room sipping wine, each letting out a small snort every so often. When his glass was empty, Chase whispered, "You didn't come here in the middle of the night to cry on my shoulder _or_ to apologize."

"Not really, no."

"Then why did you get me out of a nice, warm bed?"

Justin fished in his pocket and came out with a set of keys. "To bring your car back."

Chase snatched his keys and the wine glass from Justin's hands, set them on the coffee table and pointed at the front door. "Out!"

 **Mia's Apartment**

 **The Next Day**

Sitting on the sofa, Mia looked at the envelope with her name on the front. Not her full name. Just _Mia_ , written in a shaky hand that you could tell had once riffed an electric guitar like nobody's business, and coaxed some of the most difficult pieces ever composed from a piano.

Her talk with Justin had been short, as if he understood all the things she couldn't say about Sean and why she chose him to be the donor for Steve and Joi's child. It all boiled down to one thing: Sean was a supremely talented artist, and it would've been a shame not to pass that on to future generations, now that their personal opinions of each other no longer mattered.

She picked up the key Sean had given her, more to make her go away than because he thought she wanted what was in the storage unit. He mentioned a car and an autographed guitar. Justin could probably tell her if it was worth selling, or if it would be better to donate everything for the tax write-off.

As the executor of Sean's will, Justin let her know that it was all legal. She was the sole owner of every last molecule of crap Sean had locked in that unit, and all she had to do was show the paperwork and the owners would let her in. Should she go alone or take someone with her? Maybe she'd just sell the lot on one of those reality shows, sight unseen.

Mia picked up the envelope, turning it over to look at the back. The paper wasn't cheap. Wherever it came from, the owner had paid good money to have it made. The edges were embossed, and the envelope was lined in gold, if she had to guess.

Before she could change her mind, Mia grabbed her keys, shrugged into her coat, locked the front door, and ran to her car. "I am woman, hear me roar. Don't need protection."

She'd gone about a mile when she abruptly pulled into the Java Junction. Inside, she ordered decaf tea and a slice of banana bread and carried it to the cozy reading pit away from the door, yet still visible from the parking lot. Taking out her phone, she made a quick call, and settled in to contemplate her place in the universe until her company arrived. "He's not protection. He's an emotional support person. Like a dog, but more annoying."

 **Bob's Climate Controlled Self Storage**

Standing in front of the storage unit, Mia tapped a foot while chewing on her lower lip and wondering what she'd gotten herself into. "When he said storage unit, I thought he meant one of those ten by ten, or at the most ten by twenty. Not _this_."

Justin stood next to her holding the key to a unit easily the size of a two-car garage, half of which was taken up by, well, a car. They stared for a while then Mia let out a long sigh. "I'm so glad he didn't go with the sport stripe. That's so cliché."

She walked along the car's driver's side while Justin gave the passenger side a close perusal. They met at the trunk. Mia rolled her eyes, and Justin chuckled. "Prophetic, wouldn't you say?"

The piece of machinery they admired wasn't an ordinary car. It was a 2009 Ford Shelby Mustang GT500, solid black, had all the bells and whistles you could get that year, plus one customized feature: a vanity plate that said SNS BBY. Tapping a finger against her lips, Mia tilted her head to the side. "Sean's Baby. You could be right." She nodded at the boxes in the other half of the unit. "He said something about a guitar that was signed by Carlos somebody."

A wild look of excitement brightened Justin's eyes. " _Santana_?"

"That sounds right. Acted like it was something special." Justin wasn't listening. He was frantically searching through the boxes until he found the one he wanted.

Carrying the rectangular box with reverence, he carefully laid it on top of a small dining room table with four chairs that had all been shrink wrapped together. Using his pocketknife, he cut the tape holding the box together and lifted the top off. Inside was a hard-sided guitar case. He flipped the locks open and raised the lid. Nestled in a bed of black velvet lay an electric guitar, white mahogany with a pearlescent inlay. "Gibson 1997 SG special with upgraded Gibson Humbuckers, a 61 classic in the neck and a Burtsbucker 3 in the bridge. It has 4 wires so it can be coil tapped for a wide tonal pallet if necessary." With awe in his voice, Justin lifted the instrument out, looking it over like a pervert at a peepshow.

"You realize I don't understand a word you said. I mean, I understand the _words_. They just don't make sense the way you put them together. Simplify it for the great unwashed."

Holding the instrument as if he intended to play, he lightly strummed the strings, just to get a feel for it. "Translation: It's a really _cool_ guitar and worth a lot of money because it's signed by the great man himself, Carlos Santana."

Mia waved her hands in the air to fake enthusiasm for the instrument. "Whatever. I was gonna sell it, but I've changed my mind. The car, I'll keep for myself. The guitar, and any other really cool music shit in here I'll save to give to…" Once again, the mention of Sean's possible offspring made her cousin uncomfortable, so she dropped it. "Anyway, you can help me go through it and decide what to keep and what to donate to charity or some rock museum."

"Help? No _way_." Justin put the guitar away, locked the case and replaced the lid. "After Serenity's problem and… We're not taking _any_ chances. I'll catalog it all, and we'll go over the list together."

"Sounds fair. Wanna grab that guitar and let's hit the road? I really gotta pee."

As he closed the gate, Justin told her, "I'll take the car out too and give it a good going over. Oil change, drain the fuel tank, replace the tires and brakes, whatever it needs to make it road-worthy. Just don't lose the paperwork I gave you or you'll never be able to get tags or title in your name."

He stowed the guitar in the trunk, and got behind the wheel. Mia buckled her seatbelt. "You know, you're one of my favorite people, Justin."

" _One_ of? Not your favorite?"

"Well, you're in the top five." She waggled her hand. "The order changes weekly, but Gramps is always number one."

They laughed together as he pulled out the front gate and into traffic.

 **City General Hospital**

 **Rey's Room**

"Oh, my gosh! This is _so_ freakin' good!" Rey said around a mouthful of her favorite burger with bacon and avocado. "Haven't had one since before…" At the look in Justin's eyes, she didn't finish the sentence. He would know what she was going to say. "The hospital food's not bad, but a burger from License to Grill has it beat."

He wiped his hands and mouth and took a drink, giving Rey the sense it was a stalling technique. During the process, he watched her with that unreadable expression.

Laying the unfinished burger on the wrapper, she wiped her hands and broke eye contact. "I know you probably don't want to talk about Sean."

"But?"

"There are conflicting stories online about the wedding. A blogger trying to make a name for himself accused you of lying about it, and another swears he was there when it happened."

Shaking his head, Justin got up to look out the window like he always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "There was only one other couple at the Justice of the Peace's office plus three employees and Zoe. No stragglers or people just hanging out. As for lying, that's not true either. The one reporter who confronted us about it, did so outside of Zoe's school, and went away looking like an ass. We weren't wearing our rings, and we never said we weren't married, just that we were good friends. And that _is_ the truth."

Rey wrapped the other half of her burger and set it aside for later. "What about the news release from his parents? No mention of the wedding."

"Because it's no one's business but ours. And I don't mean _you_ , Rey, or my family." Justin turned from the window. "Did the doctor say if the baby…"

"Didn't ask. Don't want to know."

He nodded understanding. "What names did you choose?"

For one of the few times since the accident, Rey smiled fondly. "I think you'll approve of my choices. Rocio Paloma after my mother and because I like the name Paloma. We were going to call her Poppy. And Thomas James for a boy. My papa's name was Tomas and James is for your grandfather."

He came to sit next to her on the bed. "Gramps would've been honored. Only Chase, Iris, and I know you were pregnant. We haven't told anyone else because we have three moms-to-be in the family and don't want to upset them, especially after Serenity's scare."

"Three? Who's the third?'

Justin stood, ready to end the conversation. "Can we finish this later? I have an appointment to get to."

Bewildered at what was obviously a lame excuse, Rey nodded. He leaned down to give her a kiss, and left without looking back.

 **Mia's Apartment**

After dinner, Mia finally got up the nerve to read Sean's note. While she was certain there wasn't anything in it that Sam or anyone else would find objectionable or too personal, she wanted to read it alone before deciding if she should share the contents. If she decided against it, she'd still keep it for the child Sean helped her create.

To keep from tearing the envelope, she'd tossed it in the freezer while Justin and she were at the storage unit. A useful technique, if you forget to include something or you have more nefarious schemes afoot. Using her thumb and forefinger, she carefully worked the flap loose and slid out a single handwritten page.

 _Cara Mia,_

 _See what I did there? ;-)_

 _You know all those horrible things we said to each other from the day we met? I'd like to get well and say them all over again, because that would mean I wasn't going to die soon and we'd have many, many years of verbal sparring to look forward to. But enough about us._

Mia couldn't help it. She laughed out loud. "You did give great verbiage, Sean. I'll give you that."

 _Seriously though, I've been sitting in the park watching the kids playing, wondering what my child, or children, if there's more than one, will look like, and if you'll ever tell him or her or them about me. I hope you will, simply because I think they should know where they came from._

"Don't be an _ass_. Of course, we're going to tell him or her or them all about you."

 _Another big question in my mind before I showed up uninvited on Justin's doorstep a few weeks ago was, "_ _How much pain do you have to go through until giving up is okay?"_

 _Then, one day, when I was just about to give up, to end it all on my own terms, a ten-year-old girl made all the pain and heartache worthwhile because I got to know her before I died. Zoe never judged me for any of the choices I made, or how I lived my life. But she sure as hell had something to say about the way I planned on ending it and wouldn't let me go on being the same selfish asshole I'd been for most of my life._

 _Thinking back to the day I got the diagnosis, I realized that I had done so many things that at some point I'd done for the last time and I wasn't paying attention. Because of you, Justin and Zoe, I got to laugh and sing and play and make love and sort of fall in love again-twice, all for the last time… but this time I paid attention._

 _So, Cara Mia, take my advice. Believe in yourself because happiness starts as an inside job. Magic is everywhere. All you have to do is open your eyes. Dance like no one is watching, and when they are, get them to dance with you. Take the high road whenever possible because the low road leads to loneliness. Make your watch-words love, hope, kindness, patience, graciousness, compassion, generosity, goodness and grace. For you, that should be easy, because you have all these qualities and more. Your whole family does, and it's shameful that I didn't notice until it was too late. But then, where would we have been without the verbal sparring? Friends? I shudder to think. Frenemies? That seems the most likely scenario. Lovers? I guess we'll never know._

 _Albus Dumbledore said that happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. Thank you for helping me find the light switch, Mia. Most of my last days were happy because of you, Justin, and Zoe._

 _Here's to the next great adventure!_

 _Love,_

 _Sean_

 **TBC**


	134. Chapter 134

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds. W-S-88 also did a bit of Beta work.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 134**

In front of the hospital, Justin stood in a pool of sunlight. Zipping his jacket up as protection against the wind that signaled a change in the weather, he wanted to go back inside, to explain to Rey why he'd run off when she asked for details about the third pregnancy in the family. He wasn't ready for her to know that his deceased spouse would be the biological father of his cousin's baby. Not yet. She already thought his family was weird.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out Rey's keys. The ones for the SUV were useless. He'd gone down to the police impound to get a look at it, and to his eyes, it was a total loss. Until she got a new one, she'd need help getting to the store, the doctor, and once the cast was off, physical therapy. After being gone for several weeks, his boss wouldn't like it if he asked for more time off. What he needed was a partner in crime, so to speak, and one particular name came to mind.

He tossed the keys in the air and caught them.

While having coffee, Justin and Harry found out that, aside from Rey, they had other things in common. For one, their love of the Washington Redskins. A game was coming up this weekend, and he thought it would be a good bonding experience for them to spend time together. Maybe invite Marshall along. If Rey was out of the hospital by then, they'd watch from her condo and take turns seeing to her needs. Or not. She probably wouldn't want a bunch guys in her home while she was trying to rest. Whatever. They'd work it out later. Now was the time to think about Rey.

Taking out his phone, Justin made a call on the way to the car. "Harry. How'd you like to join me in a conspiracy that involves someone we both care deeply about?" He chuckled as he opened the car door. "No, I'm not talking about good ol' # 71. Rey's going to need help when she first comes home. I can't be there all the time, and neither can you. What say we do a tag-team thing? If we need help, I have a few names to drop that might work."

 **The Rogers Family Home**

Joi paced outside the bathroom, always staying where she could see Alice playing an online game with Gracie and a few other friends who didn't want to play outside in the cold. The weather forecast for the weekend was for unseasonably cold temperatures, and a possibility of snow. She winced at the noise coming from the second floor of their new home. Clint, Steve, Bucky, and a few others were busy remodeling one of the bedrooms into a nursery in anticipation that Mia would be able to produce the child she promised them. Which was why Joi was pacing outside the bathroom.

She knocked on the door. "What's taking so long?"

" _Relax. Not everyone can perform under pressure, you know_."

"What about another cup of tea?" Joi offered. "The kind that makes you pee."

A muffled grunt came through the door, followed by the tinkle of water on water and a sigh of relief. "Won't be necessary, cuz. Five minutes. Start the timer… Now!"

Joi kept her eyes on the clock, looking away only to check on Alice. If the way she treated the girl was an indication of the kind of mother she'd be with a newborn, the kid would be pampered and spoiled for the rest of its life. She winced inwardly. Gramps was right. Calling a baby "it" was insulting, as if the child were just a thing. They'd give themselves time to get used to the idea before deciding whether to call it he or she. Waiting before telling Alice or the rest of the family was a good idea too. From what she read online, it would be after Valentine's Day before they could find out the gender.

"Names," she muttered under her breath. "We have to pick names that include some form of Sean. We promised. Argh! How much longer…"

The bathroom door opened, startling Joi. Mia stood there, all weight on one foot, and a smirk lighting up her features that was different than her normal one. She nodded. Joi squealed. "Really?"

Mia held up the white stick, so she could see for herself the two pink lines. "We're pregnant." She reached for Joi's hand. "Before you go shouting it from the rooftops, let's have it confirmed by the doctor."

But Joi wasn't listening. She made it to the second floor in record time. "Steve! Steve!"

Her husband came running out into the hall with a circular saw in one hand, wearing a hardhat, safety goggles and work gloves. "What, babe? Is something wrong with Alice?"

Bucky and Clint crowded together in the doorway, smart enough to keep quiet. Because they were both fathers who had experience with such events, they shared a smug grin.

"No! It's Mia!" Joi took a deep breath, let it out, took another, and gripped his upper arms. "We're having a baby!"

Clint took the saw from Steve before he dropped it just as Mia reached the top of the stairs. He started to hug Joi and stopped to wave Mia over, so he could hug them both. His eyes dropped to her still-flat abdomen.

Mia gently took his hand and placed it over her stomach. "That's your baby, Steve. In approximately eight months, you'll be a dad for the second time."

Steve got a strange look in his eyes, and suddenly, Bucky was there with a chair just as Steve's knees gave out. "We're gonna be… Wow. I didn't think it would happen so… Are you _sure_?"

The smugness on Mia's features went away, changing to awe. "The doctor still has to confirm, but I know this body, Steve, and it tells me its pregnant with _your_ child. Yours and Joi's."

Bucky pushed past Steve to hug Mia. "Way to go, baby girl. Wait till the rest of the family hears the news."

"Uh, Gramps…" Joi moved in his direction, touching him on the arm with a pleading stare, "…don't tell anyone yet. Not until we know for absolute certainty. Please?"

"You know I can't keep anything from Tasha. But no one else. Agreed?"

Relieved, Joi reached back to take Steve's hand. "Agreed."

 **Rey's Condo**

"Okay, you have the remote, a full carafe of hot water for tea, snacks, and your phone." Harry moved the table a fraction of an inch closer to the recliner. "Cleo's been fed, watered, and her box was cleaned. Anything else?"

Scooting around to get comfortable, Rey thought hard. She wasn't ready to be alone, but Harry had a client to woo and couldn't stay much longer. "Adjust the pillow under my leg, and you're free to go."

She had to give it to Harry. Not once during his stay had he watched the clock. He really was a good man, and it was too bad they couldn't have made a life together that worked for both of them.

He did as she asked and came around to the side to drop a kiss on her cheek. "Take care, Minx, and call if you need anything." Now, he did look at his watch. "Justin should be here in an hour or so."

The front door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. "One last favor. Don't call me Minx in front of Justin."

"I won't. Bye."

The door closed again, and Rey was alone with only Cleopatra for company until Justin arrived. The cat jumped on the arm of the recliner and carefully walked onto Rey's lap and laid down. "There's no more baby, Cleo. It's just you and me. Well, once the leg and arm heal, or I can get around without help. Might be a while because we don't have a car. The insurance guy sent pics. That drunk driver did a number on mine and four others. Two people died, and another will be in the hospital for a while. Everyone else came away with relatively minor injuries. Losing a baby is horrible, and Harry thinks I should sue the guy who caused the accident. He's right. I just need a lawyer." Cleopatra touched her cheek with a paw. "Know where I can find one?"

"Reow."

"You're right. We shouldn't react out of anger or loss. Still, that guy's gonna wish he'd never gotten out of bed the day of the accident. I'm going to sue him for everything he's got and more. Won't get it, there'll probably be others doing the same thing. And even if I get nothing, hopefully he'll have learned his lesson and won't do it again, once he gets out of prison."

Rey pulled the cup close, scooped a spoonful of tea into the strainer, and dropped it into the cup. Holding the top of the carafe, she poured hot water over the tea, set the carafe aside and waited for it to steep. She opened the plastic container and smiled. It was divided into sections. One was filled with cat treats and a note.

 _Snacks for "Nurse" Cleo_

 _Take care,_ _mon cher_

Setting the note aside, Rey offered one of the moist tidbits to Cleopatra. "Isn't Harry sweet, thinking of you?"

"Reow."

She took the tea strainer out of the cup and set it on the small plate provided, added a dollop of honey, and stirred. While taking a cautious sip, she saw that the news was in the midst of reporting on the accident that had apparently shut down the highway until the middle of evening rush hour. Rey took another sip of tea and returned the cup to the saucer. Her hand hovered over the snack offerings, a variety of chocolates, baby carrots, celery and ranch dressing, and cookies. She chose a cookie and nibbled while checking the television listings for something interesting to watch, eventually giving it up as a bad idea. Reading sounded like more fun. She took the top book from the stack Harry had placed within easy reach. Before opening the book, she swallowed one of the pain pills with the tea, and closed her eyes, waiting for it to work.

~~O~~

Justin unlocked the front door to Rey's condo and let himself in. The television was on with the sound muted, and she was asleep in the recliner with Cleopatra draped over her lap, and a book on her chest. The cat raised her head, but didn't move. Normally, she would run to him the moment he came into sight. "Taking care of Mom, huh?" he whispered as he reached over to give her a head and neck scratch and remove the book. "Good girl." The cat's nose sniffed the air. "I brought dinner. We'll eat when she wakes up."

The food went into the 'fridge, and Justin went down the hall to the Rey's bedroom to get it ready for bedtime. The clothes on the floor went into the laundry basket, shoes in the bottom of the closet, and coat, hat, scarf and gloves into the front closet so she wouldn't trip.

In the bathroom, he checked out the bathmat and decided the non-skid padding would do. They'd have to work something out for baths. She may or may not want his help dressing and undressing. In retrospect, he and Harry should've enlisted the help of a female. His choices were limited to Joi, his mom, Aunt Suzanna, and Wanda. Unless one of Rey's female friends could assist, but he didn't know any of them.

He closed the bathroom door. "Let's start with family." Justin dialed Wanda. "Hi, auntie. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You heard about Rey's accident."

" _I did._ "

He checked that the towels hanging on the towel bars were clean. "She's going to need help bathing, and I thought she might prefer a female."

A door closed in the background, blocking out the sound of the television. " _I can move in until she's able to get by on her own, except for driving._ "

"You're the best! I hadn't thought about that, but you're right. All I can think about is her being here alone while I'm at work."

" _Ask if she is okay with it, and you can take me there. Just call, and I'll be ready_."

A black paw waved under the door, telling him that Rey was awake. "Thanks. _You_ are my favorite aunt, Wanda." Justin hung up and opened the door. Cleopatra looked up at him, twitched her tail and trotted back to the living room. He followed and found Rey attempting to reach the crutches. "Whoa there! Take it easy."

She sat back with an annoyed expression. "Sorry I was asleep when you got here. Those pain meds knock me out. I really have to pee, like now!"

Eschewing the crutches, Justin picked Rey up and carried her to the bathroom. He put her down, holding on until she could balance on her own. Using one hand on the counter for support, she attempted to pull her panties down. "A little help here, please."

Justin tugged the satin panties down below her knees and held the gown up until she was sitting before stepping out and closing the door. Leaning against the wall, he watched Cleopatra meander down the hall. She stopped in front of him, crouched on her haunches, and leaped into his arms. "Hey, girl. You miss me?"

"Reow."

"Missed you too. But I'm back now." Raising his voice to be heard, Justin said, "Harry and I hate the thought of you being all alone here with no one to talk to. How'd you like some company?" He heard grunting and the water came on. Cleopatra jumped to the floor and he opened the door. Before she could object, he picked Rey up again, and carried her back to the recliner.

"Insurance doesn't cover a private nurse, and I don't want a stranger in my home."

Justin put her down, picked up the carafe and used dishes, and headed for the kitchen. "Wanda's offered to help out. That way, you have company as well as a helper. I promise, she's trustworthy or I wouldn't let her near you."

Rey got comfortable and was covering herself with the fuzzy blanket when he came back. He gave her a hand and sat on the sofa, so she wouldn't have to strain her neck to see him.

"I only met her that one time. Are you sure she wouldn't mind? What about school?"

"It was her suggestion. And she's home schooled. As long as you have Internet, she's good. Doesn't drive yet, but Harry and I can handle doctor appointments and grocery shopping."

He went back into the kitchen to get dinner ready, letting her think over his proposition. While the food was heating, he brought her a fresh carafe of hot water and more tea. "So?"

"If she doesn't mind, okay."

"Good. She can start tonight. I'll go get her after we eat."

Hands rubbing her belly, she asked, "Have you told her about…"

Shaking his head, Justin returned to the kitchen. He couldn't look Rey in the eye while talking about the loss of their baby. "If you want me to, I will. Or you can. Maybe it's best not to mention it at all. She might be compelled to tell Nat, and Gramps doesn't want anything to upset her." Too late, he realized he'd opened the door for her to ask about the third pregnant member of the family. To his relief, she didn't say a word. "If Wanda's here more than a few days, do you mind if her girlfriend visits?"

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah. She's dating a classmate, Xiaoli. You don't have to worry about them disappearing into her room for hours on end. They aren't sleeping together." The microwave dinged. Justin returned to the kitchen to put the food on a tray. In order to make her feel better, he put a rose in a small vase, and used Rey's good china, cloth napkins, the works. She let the foot of the recliner down, and he set the tray in front of her. He got the ottoman from the spare room, and propped her foot on it. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"What? That Wanda likes girls?" Rey grinned at him as she draped the napkin over her lap. "If it doesn't bother me that you dated men before me, and were married to a man, why would I have a problem with your aunt having a girlfriend?"

From the kitchen, Justin let his embarrassment be known. "Sorry. It was a stupid thing to say." He joined her, taking a seat on the sofa. As promised, he brought something special just for Cleopatra: a small can of shrimp on a plate. "I wouldn't forget my best girl, would I Cleo?"

He looked up at a snort from Rey. "Hmph. I thought _I_ was your best girl."

"You're my best _human_ girl, but Cleo's my best _cat_ girl."

"Nice save, Lockwood."

~~O~~

They ate in silence for a while, watching a mildly interesting movie, the plot of which was lost on Rey because she could barely concentrate due to the pain meds. She shut it off. "Are you ready to talk about Sean?"

Justin looked down at his plate, using a fork to push the food around. "Depends on the question."

"Did he leave you a personal note, video, anything like that?"

"Yeah. Found a DVD in my bag when I got home." He took a drink, making a show of putting it back on the coaster.

Rey broke off a piece of garlic bread, using it to sop up some of the marinara sauce. "But you haven't looked at it yet." His head came up and she saw guilt in his eyes. He shook his head. "Don't you think you should?"

"You waited over two years to watch _my_ video."

That comment made her angry. "Going through your things would've meant Chase accepted that you were gone. I know that's not your motivation, Justin. Sean was your friend and husband. He's been gone barely a week." He was too far away for her to take his hand. "Want me to watch it with you?"

Before she finished the last, Justin was shaking his head. "No idea what it says. Not sure if I want others to know at this point. Hell! Not sure _I_ want to know. We only got married because I knew he would die soon."

"You told me. It was kind of you to think of him instead of yourself, and to risk being caught out by the media." He came to take her dishes, and she stopped him by touching his hand. "What you did, to me it means that you care about yourself enough to allow others to love you, and that brings you one step closer to loving yourself. Maybe, not saying for sure, but just maybe, after seeing the video, you'll be there. At least think about what I said."

All through Rey's speech, Justin wanted to cover his ears, so he wouldn't have to listen, but by taking his hand so he couldn't leave, she forced him to hear her side of the story. It got him to thinking. Unfortunately, he couldn't think completely clearly when she was around.

With the dishes soaking in the sink, Justin came back to the living room where once again, Cleopatra was on Rey's lap. He gave her another ear rub, listening to her purrs. He'd read somewhere that cat's purrs had healing properties. They lowered stress, eased your breathing, lessened the chances of having a heart attack, and even strengthened bones. In that case, maybe he should bring over a dozen cats to speed up the healing of her broken leg.

"Need anything before I go after Wanda?"

"I can wait until you get back. Drive carefully." Rey smiled up at him in that way she did the first time they kissed. As if she knew how it would all turn out. But that was before she found out what a weird family he had, and before he supposedly died. And she still didn't know the half of it.

He kissed her cheek on the way out because kissing her lips would make him want to stay and make love to her, but that wasn't possible. After a miscarriage, the woman's body and emotions needed to heal. One only took a couple of weeks. The other… who knew when she'd be ready. He vowed to be with her every step of the way, whether they ended up together or not.

At the light, he sent Wanda a text letting her know he was on the way and that he wanted to take Dexter with him. Then he spent the rest of drive with his mind doing mental acrobatics. Once he got the two women settled in, Justin would take his emotional problems back to the apartment where no one would see if he cried again.

~~O~~

On the way to Rey's, Justin got an idea. "Hey, auntie, how about a driving lesson?"

She looked skeptical. "I have only driven a few times. Mostly with Xiaoli. I would not want to damage your car."

"Don't worry about that. I have insurance." Reluctantly, Wanda got behind the wheel, scooted the seat forward, adjusted the mirrors, and put on her seatbelt. "We'll stay off the highway until you're a little more experienced."

"That would be appreciated. Pietro and I have only had our learner's permits for two weeks. Father has taken us out a few times, but I believe that Mother would be more patient. However, Father refuses to allow her to be in the car while one of us is driving." She jerked to a stop at the light. "He is afraid that their miracle child will be hurt."

Wanda's comment brought his own child to mind. The one he would never get to know. If his aunt saw what was in his mind, she was kind enough not to mention it. And that meant she would not speak of it to anyone else. "Understandable. So, when we get to… now turn left… Easy… There you go… When we get to Rey's, this first night, if you help her dress for bed, I'll come tuck her in. After that, it's just the two of you and Cleopatra. I'll give you Harry's number just in case you can't get me."

"Pardon me for asking, who is Harry?"

"He's Rey's ex-fiancée. They stayed friends after the break-up. We've been taking turns caring for her, but she needs a woman around for the girly stuff, bathing and such. Take a right at the next corner."

Wanda signaled and made the turn. "I will take good care of Rey for you."

That reminded him of something. "One thing before we go inside. She knows about me and what happened with HYDRA, but not about the special powers the family has. If you have to use your powers, be discrete."

"Of course. If it becomes necessary for me to use them in front of Rey, I could then remove the memory and replace it with another. But I would only do that with her permission. I promised Mother."

"And the good girl you are, auntie, you'll keep that promise. Park on the end next to that Jeep."

She did so, put the car in park, and shut off the engine. "How did I do?"

Justin released his seatbelt and opened his door. "Well, we didn't hit anything, so that's a plus. And you know what your mom says."

Wanda laughed. "Everyone needs practice."

On the sidewalk, Justin stopped his aunt. "One more thing, Wanda. There's something you might find out about Rey and me, but you have to keep it to yourself. Don't even tell Pietro." He used his non-bantering tone. "And please don't bring it up unless Rey does herself."

He could see she was confused, but would do as he asked.

~~O~~

Later, after Wanda had helped Rey bathe and get ready for bed, they watched the end of a movie they'd all seen but hadn't finished. Justin carried Rey into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

"Thanks. Would you send Wanda in, please?"

Justin went out and Wanda went in, closing the door behind her. Cleopatra pawed at his leg, and he picked her up. "She's almost ready for bed, Cleo, my love. What say we get a snack while we're waiting?"

He carried the cat to the kitchen and set her on the counter while he got out cat treats. She scarfed the treats and begged for more. " _Nyet_. You've had enough. Don't want to gain weight, sweetheart."

There was a small noise behind him, and he turned to find Wanda standing in the doorway. "Rey would like to say good night."

As he passed her, Justin dropped a quick kiss on Wanda's cheek. "Thanks, auntie. You're the best."

With Cleopatra in his arms, he walked back to the bedroom. Rey was propped up in bed with pillows, the covers pulled up to her chest. She smiled as he closed the door so they could talk privately. "How you doing? Feel better after your bath?"

"It wasn't a bath, per se, more of a hosing off." Rey indicated her broken leg. "Good thing the cast is removable. But yeah. More like myself."

"Good." Justin sat next to her. "I spoke to the insurance adjustor today. Your car isn't worth fixing, so when you feel up to it, I'll take you to buy a new one."

Rey glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. "I… I had a dream today. One of the times the pills knocked me out. About our child all grown up. College graduate, top of the class, handsome boyfriend, dog, cat, the whole enchilada."

"What did she look like?"

One side of Rey's mouth turned up. "A little bit me, a little bit you, a whole lot of your grandfather."

That made him chuckle. "He's a character alright." Rey motioned for him to move, and he helped her scoot down in the bed. "Wanna see something cool."

This time, he got a cheeky grin. "I've seen it, honey. It's very nice."

"Very funny, Medina." Justin went around to the other side of the bed to lay down next to her, holding his phone so they could both see. "If we'd gotten married when I wanted to, he'd be your step-son."

He turned up the volume so they could both hear Pietro in the yard with the cats. Dexter and Pietro's faces filled the screen. " _This will be Dexter's first time in the grass. Let's see how he likes it_."

Pietro put Dexter in the grass and stepped back to watch. At first, Dexter didn't know what to make of it. He sniffed all around before taking his first steps, lifting his feet high and meowing as if to say, "What _is_ this shit? It smells funny and tickles my feets."

After a while Ryder came over, providing moral support, urging the kitten to try it out. Dexter moved around, sniffing and pawing at the blades of grass. Soon, he was running around, pouncing on imaginary prey, and when he got bored with stalking grass, he grabbed tails. The other cats ignored him or swatted him ass over teacups. He stopped to chew a few blades, made a face, and took off again. Once he got used to the feel, it didn't bother him, and he turned to his favorite playthings: Priscilla and Ryder.

"Oh, my gosh! He's so freakin' _cute_ , Justin. Would you bring him over?"

"Sure. Tomorrow after work. I know Wanda has everything in hand, but I'll still check up on you. Harry too. I gave her his number, just in case." Rey held his hand. He raised it to his lips for a kiss. "I'll go and let you get some sleep."

She adjusted the covers with a sleepy smile, her words slurred. "Might stop taking those pain meds soon. They make me loopy, mmm, an' sleepy."

At the door, Justin turned to give her a smile. "Whatever you think best. See you tomorrow."

"Watch that video, Jay."

In Rey's presence, he'd forgotten about the DVD in a clear plastic case lying on the bar counter at his apartment. If he didn't watch it soon, Rey would bug him until he did, and probably get Wanda in on it too.

By the time he reached the front door and put his jacket on, Rey was asleep. "You have my number and Harry's. If you can't get me, call him. One of us will be here in a few minutes. If it's an emergency, call 9-1-1 then call both of us."

Wanda opened the front door and pushed him out. "We'll be fine. Go home and take care of Dexter."

The door closed and locked behind him. "Women. Can't live with 'em, can't ignore 'em."

 **Justin's Apartment**

After feeding Dexter, sorting laundry, washing dishes and changing the linens on the bed, Justin stood next to the bar counter staring at the DVD without picking it up. "Can't put it off any longer."

He removed the DVD from the case, dropped it in the player, and went to sit on the sofa. Dexter climbed up on the back of the sofa to play with his hair.

Sean's gaunt yet smiling face came on the screen, looking directly into the camera. " _We both know why you're watching this, so let's get to it. I know that I should feel lucky to be alive, but I don't feel lucky. I feel like_ _shit_ _. Yeah, I talk a good game, pretend like life's all beer and skittles, but the truth is I'm scared, Beeb. I don't want to die, and if there was any way to stop it, I would, but I can't, so here goes._

" _I asked you to be my power of attorney so I wouldn't have to make a long ******* list of shit the doctors could and couldn't do to keep me alive. We've talked about this ad nauseum. No more will be said._

" _You told me not to leave you anything, but I did. Dad should've given you the key to a storage unit in Merrifield. It's a company that specializes in maintaining and storing classic vehicles. You're free to keep or sell it. Whatever you want. It was the first thing I bought with the advance Ambiguous got for their recording contract, so it holds a special place in my heart, just like you_."

He laughed, and just for a moment, he looked like the old Sean. Vibrant and alive. Filled with the drive to make a name for himself in the music world. For the most part, he succeeded. If the cancer hadn't taken over, who knows how far he could've gone? Maybe he _would've_ been bigger than Sinatra, Elvis, and Michael Jackson combined.

" _I still remember the first time I saw you in the park. You passed me up without a word. Not even 'on your left', which Natasha said came from your grandfather. That first day, I watched you outrun all the other joggers without breathing hard. I hoped you'd stop so we could 'accidentally' run into each other, and maybe talk for a while. But you got so far ahead of me, I ran out of steam and had to quit. Another time, I got a call from our manager. She'd gotten us a gig, local, but still prime for a group playing dives and weddings_.

" _But enough about the past, and because I don't have a future, let's talk about yours_.

" _You promised to audition for The Next American Star, and I'm holding you to it, because if you don't, I will_ _haunt_ _your ass for the rest of your life_." Sean pointed at the screen with a mock stern stare. " _I mean it_."

In spite of the subject of the video, Justin found himself smiling. "Chipmunk."

"Now about the girl… _You said Rey sent you packing and said not to come back until you loved yourself again. In that case, what the **** are you doing hangin' out with a dead guy? Psht! Don't for a minute think I didn't know why you married me. One, I'm dying, meaning you wouldn't have to perform your husbandly duties with someone who couldn't get it up_." The left side of his mouth turned up in a rueful smile. " _As it turned out, that wasn't a problem, though I'm still on the fence if it was real or an extremely hot dream_.

" _Two, once I'm dead, you can spend the rest of your life with Rey. You know I didn't mean it when I said she was too good for you. Truth is you seem perfect for each other. As soon as possible, go to her, get down on one knee, and propose. Elope if you have to. Just marry that girl as soon as humanly possible._ "

Sean snapped his fingers. " _I forgot. She won't take you back until you love yourself again_." He looked left and right as he leaned closer to the camera. " _News flash, pal. You got this. It may not be apparent to you, and yeah, when we first saw each other after so long apart, you did seem a little withdrawn from yourself. But in the days since, you've changed. While I'd love to believe that it was all me, I know for a fact it was that impish and irksome devil-child Zoe that did it. Even after all the stories Dad, Mom, Vinnie, and Jessie told her, she still kept an open mind_.

" _She accepted me as I was, not caring that I was gay_ ," he waggled his hand, " _ish, or that I'd been an asshole my entire life. Zoe wouldn't allow me to continue being that person. She knew what she wanted and treated both of us as if we were the most important people in her life. With Zoe, there were no half-siblings, or siblings by marriage. Once you're a part of the family, that's it. And I think it was that unconditional approval that helped you make your own journey of acceptance_."

The smile vanished, replaced by determination. " _There's no question that you are loved by your family, Justin, and now mine as well. You need to see that loving those who love you makes you possible to love yourself. And though you may see my death as the end of my journey, it's really only the beginning. In the afterlife, my social calendar will be full, as will my heart_." He placed a hand over his left chest.

" _You need to know that you are more than worthy of the affection your family and friends give so freely, and don't forget to return it. Be the Beeb you were before all that shit that happened. Be Justin Phineas Lockwood! Singer, musician, construction worker, cat-dad, and lover. The only way to have a future is to let go of the past. Put all of it behind you, and get on with your life._

" _And for God's sake, Beeb,_ _marry_ _that girl before she settles for second best_." Sean looked directly into the camera. " _One last thing. Always remember I love you._ "

 _Sean_

 **TBC**


	135. Chapter 135

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 135**

 **Novi Grad**

 **Sokovia**

The technician removed the tourniquet, pressed a cotton ball over the injection site and removed the needle. All through this last series of injections, Subject 497 had barely moved, showing no emotion when the procedures were explained or as they were performed. Eventually, they stopped speaking to him except on the odd occasion when he moved of his own accord. The technician replaced the finger over the cotton ball with a bandage.

Von Strucker turned away and returned to the room he used as an office, pulling the computer over to read the reports from the staff. The newest version of the serum was the closest they'd come to that which had created Captain America and the dual versions of the Winter Soldier. Soon, the lab would need more blood to compare with each new batch. Ideally, they needed samples from Steve Rogers himself, as well as James Barnes. But the best of the lot would come from Barnes's offspring. How they would get the blood had yet to be decided. Von Strucker had attempted to coerce the Barnes patriarch into returning to Sokovia by threatening the twins so that the specimens would be the freshest possible without the need for preservatives, which interfered with some necessary elements. It had been an utter failure.

It hadn't taken much to get Novacek involved. A little blackmail could work wonders. Except this time, their plan had backfired when Novacek ended up dead. The best they could do was find a way to bring the second-generation Winter Soldier into their midst, because he wouldn't allow anyone near him with a needle. After breaking free of his programming, he avoided going to the doctor, and absolutely wouldn't go to one he didn't know. So said their informant within the remains of SHIELD. The man had died of natural causes having succumbed to a heart ailment that had gone undetected.

Sitting alone in his office, von Strucker could only see one way to move forward with the plan to create more Winter Soldiers. He would need to have the most recent Asset returned to them. Only then would they be assured of a steady supply of blood for their experiments. His strength, agility and mental acuity had become superhuman. More so than the original Winter Soldier.

The subject had performed well on his first outings, having completed the missions in record time and with minimal instruction. No witnesses had to be eliminated, and each assassination had been officially declared accidents without the need to intervene with the medical examiners in charge of the cases. No intervention meant no trail to follow that would lead back to this base.

This left von Strucker with time and energy to ponder the significance of the twins being adopted by one of the Avengers. If they had told their infamous mother all that they had experienced while under auspices of the program, wouldn't the Black Widow and her collaborators be kicking in the doors with the tattered remnants of SHIELD as back-up? Yet not a word had been heard from them since Novacek had been sent to look into the situation.

As for how the Asset broke free from his conditioning, he still hadn't worked out how it was done. Those that hadn't made it out of the facility in D.C., including the unsuccessful Assets, weren't a worry. HYDRA agents were trained to die rather than submit to interrogation from any law enforcement agency, including the local police. When resistance became futile, there was always the cyanide capsule each had implanted.

What if the Avengers were just biding their time? Allowing HYDRA to believe that they had no plans to flush those in hiding out into the open where they could easily be taken into custody. "You're dealing with HYDRA, my friends. We do not respond to threats, silent or otherwise, or trickery. You will have to come up with a new strategy, while we do the same."

The hour was late, and the current Asset had been returned to cryo for the time being. There were still tweaks, as the Americans called it, to be done to Subject 497's programming and conditioning. With fresh blood, quite literally, this would not be a problem. There was a certain irony in sending 497 after the very thing that would complete his transformation. And if the Asset turned out to be reluctant to assist, there were many roads that could be taken to ensure his compliance, especially when they "requested" bone marrow, spinal fluid and semen. While it was a simple task to procure hair, skin, blood, mucus, and urine samples, the majority of the world's populace was reluctant to part with the rest. He wasn't concerned with the Asset's acquiescence. Drugs, restraints, and duress would work well enough.

Wolfgang von Strucker poured himself a glass of the finest wine that Sokovia had to offer, inhaled the bouquet, and sipped. The quality was not what he was used to from the wines produced in his homeland, but it would do until something better came along. Through the window, Loki's scepter glowed with a white-blue light similar to the tesseract. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his heels on the corner of the desk, ankles crossed, sipping and thinking.

 **The Following Week**

"Seriously, Justin, I can get around without help," Rey told him while keeping her eyes covered as he instructed. "Aren't you being a little childish? Just tell me what's going on."

Wanda opened the front door and stood out of the way. Rey thought Justin might put her down at the bottom of the steps, but he kept going. "You're not the boss of me, Rey-Rey."

She laughed at his little boy whine. "I don't know you're up to, but…"

"But nothing, Reya, my dear. _We_ have a surprise for you."

Harry's voice made her smile go wider, while at the same time making her skittish that her ex and her whatever Justin was were becoming friends. What did they talk about when she wasn't around? Did they discuss details of their relationships with her and compare notes? No, that wasn't it. Neither was the type. "You know I don't like that tone, Harry. This better not be one of your pranks."

"We promise, all three of us, that you will love this surprise."

Though it had been less than two weeks since she got out of the hospital, and she shouldn't feel this way, the rumble of Justin's chest against her ribs sent gentle vibrations throughout her body, winding its way into her veins. It warmed her from the inside out, as if she'd just had a steamy cup of hot chocolate. Or Justin had given her the smile that made her want to do all sorts of things to, and with, him that one usually does in private, but she couldn't wait that long. The doctor had told her that it might be a while before she was ready to have sex again, and that it was a mental thing. Many women shied away from physical intimacy following such a devastating loss. Because of the hormones still present, the doctor said she may think she wants to have sex, but her mind might say no.

But then intimacy took many forms, and sex was just one small element. Since the day she came home, Justin had spent some part of the day or night with her, playing board games, watching television or movies, reading together while Wanda went on a date with her girlfriend. He helped her to the bathroom and they lay in bed together watching Dexter, laughing at the kitten as he explored the world around him. They laughed the hardest at the kitten's not-so-subtle attempts to change Cleopatra's opinion of him. No matter where she went, he would follow, and when she swatted him, he sat there for a while looking so dejected that Justin would cuddle him until he fell asleep. Now and then, Cleopatra would "hide out" on the top tier of the cat tree and Dexter would stalk and attack her tail.

He kissed her good night when he left without even hinting that he might want more, and that made _her_ want more.

 _Don't think intimacy will be a problem_ she thought to herself as Justin set her down, holding on until she'd balanced with the crutches Wanda provided. He kept a hand on her waist to let her know he was there in case she started to fall.

"Okay. Open your eyes."

Rey blinked in the sunlight. Parked in front of her was an SUV the same make and model as the one that had been totaled. "Oh, wow. Guys! That's… I thought we were gonna go together."

Harry came to stand on Rey's other side. Wanda came around where Rey could see her. "You said many times how much you loved the car you lost. It was my job to get your thoughts on what one you would prefer as a replacement, and it became quite clear early on that you wanted your old one back."

"Harry and I went and got you this while Wanda kept you entertained. The only difference is it's a newer model." Justin dangled the keys in front of her face and she took them. "How about we go for a spin?"

"If you feel up to driving," Harry added.

The thought of getting behind the wheel made Rey's stomach clench. "Not ready for that yet, guys, but I'd still like to take a ride. I'll get changed and we'll go out to dinner." She raised a qualifying finger. "Somewhere nice, as long as _I_ get to ride shotgun."

 **House of Jazz**

Watching couples on the dance floor, Rey sighed, annoyed that her support system had brought her to a place where she wouldn't be able to fully participate. Knowing Justin and Harry, they had something up their sleeves.

The sommelier finished pouring the wine, set the bottle in the ice bucket and faded away as if he'd never been. From the corner of her eye, Rey watched Justin empty Wanda's water glass into the ice bucket and fill it from the bottle. If he got caught giving alcohol to a minor, they could be asked to leave, or worse. Management may elect to call Child Protective Services, meaning Wanda's parents, _and_ Justin, could be in trouble.

She had to admit though that the way Wanda was dressed, she appeared not older, but more mature than seventeen. The dress itself was simple. Black knit, long-sleeved, with a round neckline, it came down to her knees, and was accessorized by a deep red leather belt, three-inch heels, and glittering gold and ruby jewelry that enhanced her skin tone.

Though she smiled and laughed with her friends, Rey felt short and dowdy in comparison.

~~O~~

By candlelight, no one could see what Rey had gone through the past couple of weeks. Most of her bruises had healed, and she smiled and laughed as if she hadn't a care in the world. The way she was dressed, if they had been on a date, Justin would've thought she had plans to seduce him throughout the night and have her way with him when they got home. And he would let her. Hell, he'd offer encouragement.

The jade green velvet skimmed over those luscious curves. The neckline dipped down just enough that he could see a tiny bit of cleavage through the darker green lace that also covered her arms down to the wrists. A few inches of the same lace brought the hem to just below her knees. Gold and diamonds sparkled in her ears, around her neck and on each hand. The highlights in her hair had grown out and faded until they appeared to have been made by the sun rather than the hair stylist. Instead of heels, she wore the cast on her left foot and a black flat shoe on the right.

This sort of venue served the meal at a leisurely pace to allow and encourage socializing and dancing. About the time they were ready for another glass of wine, the server appeared.

"Good evening. My name is Pilar and I will be serving you tonight." Harry gave the girl a smile that even Justin found charming, and she fell for it, smiling shyly as she passed out the menus. "Shall I go over the appetizers with you or would you like time to decide?"

Harry took the small cards and handed them back, still with that smile. "That won't be necessary, Pilar." The way he said her name, Pee-laaaar, drawing out the second syllable, caused her to blush. "Surprise us."

Justin caught Harry watching Pilar walk away, raising one eyebrow to go with the smirk. Harry shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

~~O~~

Dinner was over, and the women had just come back from the ladies' room. Before Wanda could take her seat, Harry stood. "Would you like to dance, Wanda?"

Uncertain, she looked at Justin, who smiled encouragement. "I would."

Harry gestured for her to go ahead of him. They faced each other on the dance floor, with Harry showing her how it was done. Not the type to take advantage of an inexperienced woman, he held her at a respectable distance, patiently moving them through the steps.

Rey looked over at Justin, the candlelight flickering on his face, giving his feature a surreal aspect. If Harry made one move that was suspect in his eyes, Justin would be all over him, and poor Harry wouldn't stand a chance.

Justin turned to look at Rey and smiled. "What about you?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm one foot short of the two needed. But if there's someone with whom you want to cut a rug, be my guest." She stifled a shiver when he took her hand, holding the fingers as if he intended to brush his lips over the knuckles.

"Only you, Rey." He stood, pulled her chair out and extended both hands. "We'll make it work."

Somehow, she got the feeling that he wasn't talking just about dancing. She placed her hands in his, and a moment later, she was in his arms like a baby. Moving between the tables to the side of the dance floor, Justin made certain there was plenty of room, so they wouldn't bump into anyone.

They danced, and he softly sang along just for her.

 _It's not the pale moon that excites me_ _  
_ _That thrills and delights me, oh no_ _  
_ _It's just the nearness of you_

 _It isn't your sweet conversation_ _  
_ _That brings this sensation, oh no_ _  
_ _It's just the nearness of you_

 _When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me_ _  
_ _All my wildest dreams come true_

 _I need no soft lights to enchant me_ _  
_ _If you'll only grant me the right_ _  
_ _To hold you ever so tight_ _  
_ _And to feel in the night the nearness of you_

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Walking carefully through the living room to keep from tripping over boxes, Natasha worked her way to the sofa and settled in while Bucky and Pietro brought the rest of the Christmas decorations down from the attic. The boxes were placed according to what went where, with the outside decorations stacked in the den for now.

A breeze fluttered the material of her clothing and Pietro was sitting next to her. "Father is coming with the last box."

"We can get started decorating tonight, unless you want to wait for Wanda to come home."

He held up his phone displaying a text with his sister. "She would like to help decorate the tree, and we are free to do the rest."

Bucky appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a box. By the time he joined Natasha on the sofa, the box was gone, and all the indoor decorations had been put up. Pietro bowed while they applauded. "For my next trick," he was gone and back in seconds, "I will make hot chocolate and cookies."

He set the tray on the coffee table and passed a cup to Natasha then to Bucky. She took a sip, wondering how he heated the water so quickly. Returning the cup to the saucer, she smiled at her son. " _Spasibo_ , Pietro. It would've taken your father and me hours to do what took you seconds."

Bucky reached for the plate of cookies, offering it to Natasha. "When Wanda's home, we'll decorate the tree together. This year is special because it's our first Christmas as a family."

Natasha reached out, and Pietro took her hand as he sat beside her. "Tell me, how did you and Wanda celebrate the holiday in the past?"

"We have not had reason to celebrate much of anything for many years. Birthdays and holidays were just dates on the calendar. Gifts were seldom exchanged because we had no money, and Wanda did not like for me to steal for so trivial a reason."

"You did what you had to, pal," Bucky told him. "Now that you're a member of this family…"

The boy laughed. "We celebrate _everything_. Yes, we have noticed. Wanda and I have been buying gifts for several weeks." He held up a finger. "Do not look for them, Father, as they are well hidden."

Eyes wide, Bucky pointed at himself. In a flash, Pietro was on the second floor, leaning on the balcony railing. "Because you are insatiably curious, and not as patient as Mother." A brief moment later, Pietro's bedroom door closed behind him.

Taking Bucky's hand, Natasha leaned into him. "Our son knows you well, husband."

He put his arm around her shoulders, letting his breath out in a long sigh. "What's the plan for the holiday?"

"Carolyn and Martin are visiting his sister in Boise. Steven James and Suzanna are playing a double header. The twenty-second through the twenty-fourth with Emily's family at their new home in Denver. The twenty-fifth through the twenty-seventh with Noah's.

"For us, Steve and Joi's house on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day at home. Clint and his family will be here on the twenty-sixth, and we'll make it up from there." She patted his thigh. "What would you like to do for New Year's?"

He snuggled her close, lightly kissing her on the neck. "I don't have to be back to work until the fifth. Let's send the kids somewhere, and spend the night alone. Just you, me," he rubbed her stomach, "and baby Esme."

"Mmm. Perfect. No champagne at midnight though."

"Don't need it, babe. After all this time, you still intoxicate me."

Moving her head so they were face to face, Natasha touched his cheek. "O-oh, such a sweet talker."

He took her hand, and pulled her to her feet. As they reached their room, Pietro came into the hall. The cats took that as an invitation and dashed through the door nearly knocking him over. "Hey! Watch it! Wanda and I have been invited to a New Year's Eve party at the recreation center. Do you mind spending the evening alone?"

Letting nothing of her true feelings show, Natasha gave him a gentle smile. "Of course not. You go and have fun. We'll be fine. Are you going with Ivy?"

"I am, and Wanda will be going with Xiaoli. A friend's parents have rented a limousine to drive us around before and after. When the party is over, we will go for breakfast and return home before morning."

Bucky opened his mouth to object, and Natasha stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Sounds like fun." With the bedroom door closed, she lowered her voice. "Don't spoil their fun, James. Our children are good kids. They won't get into trouble."

"Not that I don't believe you, but I was that age once. Lost my virginity New Year's Eve my senior year of high school."

Turning around so Bucky could unzip her dress, Natasha assured him, "That's _not_ their plan, and even if it was, as long as they take precautions, what does it matter?"

Natasha slipped out of the dress and Bucky was there with her nightgown. " _You_ are the most understanding mother on this planet, Tasha."

She took the nightgown and tossed it on the vanity chair. "Not going to need that tonight, my husband." His clothes joined the rest of hers on the floor on the way to the bed. They crawled under the covers together. "Now let's see some of those coming attractions for New Year's."

~~O~~

Pietro waited five minutes after his parents went into their room to open his door. He cracked his neck, grinned and took off. Within minutes, he had all of the outside decorations put up and all of the boxes stacked in the den.

He looked up, and the cats were watching him from the balcony, their heads stuck between the balusters. With a grin, Pietro appeared behind them. "Back to bed. Go."

The cats meandered down the hall and into his room. He went in behind them, pulled the covers back and lay down on his bed. One at a time, they jumped on the bed and found a comfortable spot. Soon, all were asleep.

 **December 23** **rd**

The Christmas tree sat in the corner next to the stairs, blocking the den door. Wanda sent a gentle ping at her parents to make sure they were asleep then did the same to Pietro. They stepped into the hall together, tiptoeing down the hall with the cats running ahead, hoping for a late night snack. Wanda went to pass out treats while Pietro brought the gifts they'd been hiding and put them under the tree.

She joined him in front of the tree and found him holding a flat package.

 _To Mother and Father_

 _With love from Wanda, Pietro, and Baby Esme_

At her suggestion, Pietro placed the package in the branches of the tree so it would be seen first on Christmas morning. He pulled her close with an arm around her shoulders, planting a small kiss on her temple. * _Do not worry. They will love it_.*

** _I am not worried. Not about this. What will they think of us when we finally move forward with our plans for Tony Stark?_ **

The twins faced each other. * _Anger, surely. Disappointment as well. But that will not change their love for us as their children._ * Wanda dropped her eyes and walked over to look out the back window. Just the tiniest sliver of the moon shown in the starry sky. He came to join her. * _You are rethinking the plan._ *

She nodded. ** _The Tony Stark that we have come to know is nothing like we imagined while cowering under the bed waiting for the missile to explode._ **

Pietro turned her to face him. * _If he had not sold those weapons to the enemies of Sokovia, Mother and Father would still be alive._ *

** _And we would still be in Sokovia living in near-poverty awaiting the collapse of the government, and of the economy. Before they died, our parents often spoke of emigration to another country where they believed life would be better for us._ ** Wanda gripped the front of his pajama shirt. ** _If you will recall, America was_ _not_ _one of those countries._ **

* _You like it here, as do I. Relax, and be grateful that we are not living in Czechia or worse, Slovakia._ *

Wanda felt a touch on her leg and looked down to see Priscilla watching her with concern. It was as if the cat sensed her turmoil. Out loud, she whispered, "Let's go back to bed. Father will be waking us early to go to Steve and Joi's."

Equally quietly, Pietro said, "They have been especially giddy of late, and _you_ know why."

"Yes, but it is for them to reveal the secret, not I. Your own insatiable curiosity will have to go unfulfilled, brother."

 **The Rogers Family Home**

 **Christmas Eve**

With the scent of cooking filling the house, Joi, Steve, and Alice stood in front of the fireplace brightly decorated for the holiday. This was the moment she'd been waiting for since she was a young girl, dreaming about having a family of her own.

When the doctor told her that she and Steve wouldn't be able to conceive together, Joi had been devastated. Then Alice came along, and brightened their world with her ever-present smile, positive outlook and bubbly personality.

Justin was sitting on the floor at Rey's feet with Chase and Iris on the love seat. Sam had brought dining room chairs for himself and Mia. Gramps, Natasha, Pietro, and Wanda were on the sofa. Serenity had been ordered on near complete bed rest, and Collin didn't want to leave her alone, so they stayed at home. Chase had set up cameras to record the important moments, opening gifts, entertainment, Joi's announcement, and dinner.

Chase had set up a video chat so their parents, aunts, uncles and cousins could join them for the big announcement. It had been torture to keep it inside until now, but the end was near.

Steve whistled to get everyone's attention. "Thanks for sharing Christmas with us. Having such a large loving family wasn't something I'd thought about," he put an arm around her and Alice, "until I met Joi and found Alice. Or rather, _she_ found _me_."

Joi handed Alice and Steve each a card. "I know you've all been wondering what's going on. Well, get ready for a surprise."

~~O~~

Alice held up a card with the word "We're" written in big letters, surrounded by flowers and hearts.  
Steve did the same, his card saying "having". Joi came next. Her card simply read "a". Then, Rey, along with everyone else, gapped when Mia came to stand with them, holding up a printout of a sonogram showing a small white blob in the middle.

Rey's stomach flipped over. It was identical to the one she was given when her OB-GYN confirmed the pregnancy. Justin reached over his shoulder to hold her hand, and it made her feel a little better, though neither of them was over the loss of their child, and probably wouldn't be for some time.

Together, Alice, Steve, Joi and Mia repeated the words on the cards. "We're having a baby!"

 **TBC**

"The Nearness of You" is a popular song written in 1938 by Hoagy Carmichael, with lyrics by Ned Washington. The song debuted in a 1940 recording by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra, with vocals by Ray Eberle.


	136. Chapter 136

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 136**

At the sound of her mother's voice at the same time as Mia's mother's, Joi rolled her eyes. Everyone came to congratulate them, and as soon as they could, the cousins carried the tablet into the kitchen, so they could talk privately, and Joi could check on the food.

Steve watched them go, knowing he'd only be in the way when they explained why his DNA hadn't been used, that is if Joi told the truth. Ever since the day Mia told them the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy, he'd thought about Sean's parents. They deserved to know that a part of their son lived on through the child he helped Mia create for them. He and Joi hadn't discussed it. However, he was certain she felt the same. Once the child was born, they would take him or her to see Sean's family. Or, as Justin had suggested, invite them to come to D.C. and make the introduction then. The due date was Labor Day weekend. A perfect time to reveal the truth.

" _Steve! Justin! Sam! Chase!_ "

Joi's brothers and Sam jumped up and followed him into the kitchen to help get the food on the table.

~~O~~

Watching Rey from the corner of her eye, Iris saw how out of place she felt among such a gregarious family. It had taken a while to get used it herself and knew it would be the same for Rey.

Iris got to her feet, went into the front hall closet, and returned, dragging one of the empty chairs over. She sat down and smiled at Rey. "They're a little overwhelming, aren't they?"

Rey gave her a knowing smile. "I'll get used to it, I suppose. Eventually."

"I saw you struggling with the crutches. The same happened to me when I twisted my ankle during a dive." Iris held out the cane with the white pearlescent handle and rhinestones around the neck. "Trust me, this will work out better. Plus, it makes a positive fashion statement."

"That's not necessary."

Leaning the cane against Rey's chair, she told her, "I insist. Chase gave me three of them, but I don't need them, unless I'm overtired." Without saying a word, she conveyed her sympathy at Rey and Justin's loss by taking her hand. "Justin tells me you run a Pilates studio."

"Yes. We also teach several types of yoga, spin classes, and a martial arts instructor comes in twice a week. He teaches self-defense too."

"I'm interested in joining. Do you have extreme beginner classes?"

Rey smiled, and it took away some of the sadness in her eyes to talk about her life's passion. "I'm glad you asked. I was thinking about it just last week." The smile turned to excitement. "Regular classes are geared toward people with average mobility. My idea is to design classes for those with limited mobility, whether temporary or permanent, and Chase suggested I speak to you. You're an athlete who was once confined to wheelchair. I think together we could make this a reality. Classes for those who aren't able to walk or move normally due to disease, accident, age or…" She cleared her throat and looked away. "We can get together after the first of the year."

"Sounds like a plan." Rey's enthusiasm was infectious. "Make notes, and we'll work on it." An idea occurred to Iris. "What if we widen this circle by one? I could get my PT instructor in on it. He has fifteen years of experience to bring to the table."

The women looked up as Chase and Justin came back, looking from one to the other. Together, they said, "What?"

"Nothing," Chase said in a voice that meant something.

Justin continued, "Looks like some sort of conspiracy's going on."

The women smiled at each other, then at the men, Rey speaking. "If you must know, Iris and I are discussing a joint business venture."

The brothers looked startled as Alice came into the living room. "Mom says for everyone get washed up. It's time to eat."

~~O~~

The men made a mad dash for the downstairs bathroom with the women trailing behind laughing. Before long, they were all at the dining room table sitting on a variety of odd chairs, passing bowls and plates filled with food, most of which had been brought by the guests. Joi made the main dish, roast beef with slow-cooked tomatoes and garlic, and a few extra sides for those who didn't eat meat: creamed corn, roasted carrots, and brandied cranberry and sweet potato dressing. She'd also broke out a couple of her favorite dessert recipes, which Alice had helped her make. Candy cane cheesecake, salted caramel banana pudding, and even one that Alice had created: chocolate igloo cake.

As she held hands with her husband and daughter, surrounded by family, completing the prayer circle, Joi was happier now than at any other time in her life.

~~O~~

After dinner and gifts were exchanged, Natasha became nauseous, electing to stay near the bathroom just in case. Pietro kept a wary eye on her. A simple nod said he'd be there to help her, should it be necessary. She smiled affectionally, and turned to speak to Bucky, but her husband had vanished. Taking a quick inventory, she noticed that Steve and Alice were gone as well. Voices came from the front porch, the men's mixed with Alice's higher, slightly nasal tones.

A few minutes later, they came inside, smug grins on all their faces. Steve whispered in Joi's ear, making her smile with pride. Again, Steve got everyone's attention with a whistle.

"It's usual at a family get-together for Justin to hog the limelight." He waited out the good-natured catcalling aimed at his brother-in-law. "To start off, we need everyone to move out onto the front porch. We'll open the windows too, if you'd rather stay inside."

Natasha knew this was aimed at her and Mia. Ever since Serenity's near-miscarriage, the family kept a careful watch on the pregnant women. Mia scoffed, but Natasha appreciated the thought more than she could ever say. Pietro moved chairs over to the open window for Natasha and Mia, saw that they were comfortably seated with a small blanket over their laps to keep them warm, and moved out to stand where he could see both of them as well as whatever was happening.

The porch had been decorated to look as much like a street as possible, even down to big blue drops attached to string hanging from the ceiling to simulate rain. Once the family was situated, some standing while others took seats in the patio chairs and porch swing, Steve gestured at the open area away from the stairs.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the first, but certainly not the last time, we present the dance stylings of Alice Marie Garvey."

Amid the applause, Alice came up the steps wearing black pants, a black long-sleeved t-shirt with a bow tie and vest on the front, a black fedora with a white band, and carrying an umbrella. Her shoes clicked on the wooden porch as she took her place.

Bucky turned on the music that began with thunder and the sound of rain.

Alice held her hand out to catch the rain and opened the umbrella as she walked in a circle, her shoes tapping on the wood with each step. Holding the umbrella with both hands, she spun it behind her as the first lines of Gene Kelly's most memorable musical number played.

 _I'm singin' in the rain_

 _Just singin' in the rain_ _  
_ _What a glorious feeling_

 _I'm happy again_

Imitating Gene Kelly on the lamppost, Alice used the post near the steps…

 _I'm laughing at clouds_

 _So dark up above_ _  
_ _The sun's in my heart_

 _And I'm ready for love_

Alice's steps weren't up to competition standards, but to her family, Natasha knew they were perfect as she moved around the floor.

 _Let the stormy clouds chase_

 _Everyone from the place_ _  
_ _Come on with the rain_

The girl turned her face to the sky, arms and smile wide…

 _I've a smile on my face_ _  
_ _I walk down the lane_

 _With a happy refrain_ _  
_ _Just singin', singin' in the rain_

 _Dancin' in the rain_

 _I'm happy again_

 _I'm singin' and dancin' in the rain_

For the big finish, where Gene encounters the policeman, Alice closed the umbrella, handed it to Joi and tapped her way in through the front door.

 _I'm dancin' and singin' in the rain_

The applause and cheers drew Alice back onto the porch where she bowed and blew kisses. During her dance, Natasha glanced at Joi, Steve and Bucky, all nodding in time to the music, seeming to be doing the routine in their heads.

Joi took center stage, still clapping. "Way to go, Alice! I'm so proud of her. She practiced every day for the last month, with and without Steve and Gramps, so it would be perfect." There was more well-deserved applause. The aforementioned trio went into the house, closing the door. "They're going to do a number together. While they're getting ready, does anyone else want to…"

As expected, Justin raised his hand, but before he could say a word, Natasha heard herself saying, "I will." Stunned faces watched her as she came out onto the porch. She whispered the name of a song to Chase. While he cued it up, she kicked off her shoes, and went into her start pose, arms cross with hands on the opposite shoulders, all weight on the left foot, and head tilted down.

Natasha hadn't experienced what some would call performance anxiety since she was a child, and she didn't now. However, she was mildly concerned because as long as she'd been a part of this wonderful and loving family, she had only danced in front of an audience a few times. The first had been with Justin at the Howling Commandoes Exhibit opening just before she moved in with Bucky. Of everyone, only Bucky had seen her dance ballet. It held a place in her mind that she associated with the Red Room, and so, she seldom performed. But tonight, with her family gathered around, it was time.

The opening of "I Have a Dream" by ABBA wafted gently through the air. She could've chosen something classical, such as _The Nutcracker Suite_ , but she was _so_ over it.

Keeping the moves simple and low-key, she spun, leaped, and frolicked around the porch, all attention focused on the graceful moves she learned as a child and perfected at Madam B's unrelenting command.

As the end neared, Bucky came out, his eyes wide with surprise and a little fear. He didn't like for her to exert herself, and they'd had several mild disagreements when he thought she was doing too much. Dancing for their family tonight proved not only that she could still perform, but also that she loved them enough to let them see a part of her past that she'd kept hidden from everyone but her husband.

Natasha made one last spin on her right foot, ending the song as she began. She opened her eyes to the applause, bowed, and went to Bucky's side. The look on his face said he would have words to say when they were alone. Until then, she smiled and returned to her seat next to Mia.

Joi came out again. "That was amazing, Nat. Beautiful." Steve and Alice joined Bucky, the men now dressed in the same black pants and tux t-shirt as Alice, without the fedora. "Now, here are Gramps, Steve and Alice doing an awe-inspiring version of 'All of Me'."

This time wearing soft shoes, Steve started them off, moving through a short routine for the first two lines.

 _All of me, why not take all of me?  
Can't you see I'm no good without you?_

Alice joined in, both adding arm movements to the steps.

 _Take my lips, I'll never use them  
Take my arms, I want to lose them_

 _Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry  
Tell me how can I go on, dear, without you?_

Father and daughter tapped in a circle, joined by Bucky.

 _You took the part that once was my heart  
So why not take all of me?_

 _All of me, why not take all of me?  
Can't you see I'm no good without you?_

The trio weaved in and out until they were back in their original places.

 _Take my lips, I want to lose 'em  
Take my arms, I'll never use them_

 _Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry  
How can I go on, dear, without you?_

 _You took the part that once was my heart  
So why not take all of me?_

Turning to the side, they ended the song with arms extended.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **December 25** **th**

 **Early Morning**

* _It is too early._ * Pietro thought at Wanda.

** _To wake Mother and Father? I am not sure. What is the usual protocol for children waking their parents on Christmas morning?_ **

He shrugged while getting dressed though she couldn't see it. * _I have looked online. Younger children are more likely to awaken them before the sun comes up._ *

His sister's smile came through their link. ** _Too late. The sun is already up. We should go downstairs and start breakfast._ **

* _Everything was made last night. It only requires heating._ *

** _The hot chocolate must still be made. And Father will want coffee. The smell will awaken him, and he will wake Mother._ **

Wanda came out of her room with Priscilla and Archie. Penelope and Rufus joined him. Ryder had spent the night with their parents. Pietro picked Wanda up and took her to the kitchen. They fed the cats and gave them fresh water before getting the food out and putting it in the oven to heat.

"This will take a few minutes," Wanda told him as she adjusted the heat and he started the coffee. She took out a pan, poured milk into it and turned the burner on simmer. "Should we wait for them to see it or just give it to them?"

Pietro held up a finger while making a point. "Mother is quite observant. I would not be surprised if she has already seen it. And because she's seen it, she will want to open it first."

She stirred the milk with a wooden spoon. "You are right. If for some reason neither of them has seen it, we will make sure they do." Tilting her head to the side, she smiled. "Mother is awake and in the bathroom. Father will be waking soon, as he always does when Mother is not with him."

"Then they will be down soon. Shall we give them the gift while we're eating?"

"Before opening the other gifts, I think." Wanda took down cups and set them on a tray. "Go set the table, brother."

Her twin wrinkled his nose at her while bowing. "As you wish, sister."

~~O~~

The bathroom door opened, and Natasha came out dressed in the Christmas pajamas she bought just for today. Bucky gave her a kiss as they passed and closed the door behind him. When he came out, he'd changed into his matching pajamas.

"Did you see the package in the tree," she asked as she ran a brush through her hair.

"Yes. And I've been dying of curiosity." He sniffed the air. "Mmm. Coffee." Bucky took the brush and laid it on the vanity to take her hand. "You didn't eat much dinner last night. The kids are making breakfast. Think you can eat something?"

Natasha let Bucky lead her out of their room. "I promise to try. This morning sickness that happens all times of the day and night is getting old."

"You'll just have to grin and bear it, Tasha." At the bottom of the stairs, they turned into the living room and saw gifts under the tree they hadn't noticed the day before aside from the one stuck in the branches. "Can't we open that one now?"

Grinning, she pulled him toward the dining room. "You're like a little kid, James. We'll wait until the twins tells we can open it."

A breeze passed them in both directions and Pietro was by the table holding the package. He set it next to Bucky's plate and held the chair for Natasha. She gave him a smile. "Thank you, my son. Everything smells so good."

"We made it last night, so the cooking would not take long." He was gone and back so fast, they barely saw him go. A cup appeared in front of each of them. Coffee for Bucky and hot chocolate for Natasha. "Let us know if you would prefer something that is easier on your stomach."

With a smile, Natasha took her napkin from under the silverware and draped it over her lap. "I'm feeling much better today. I have to try it."

~~O~~

Pietro carried the breakfast casserole to the table with Wanda bringing the biscuits, butter and preserves. They took their seats and formed a prayer circle. James said grace, after which, he served Natasha a small amount of eggs, ham, cheese, onion and bell peppers. She split a biscuit in half, buttering one side and adding a small amount of the strawberry preserves.

Bucky and the kids served themselves, all the time, her husband's eyes were on the package. With a big smile, Wanda passed over the gift. "Open it, Father."

The twins watched with expressions of excitement and anticipation as Bucky untied the ribbon and tore the wrapping off, uncovering a white box. He glanced at her, and Natasha smiled encouragement. Setting the box between them, he removed the top and she folded back the tissue paper. "Oh! They're beautiful!"

Natasha lifted out the contents, passing one to Bucky. Two wooden frames, similar, yet different, with the same saying, "Love makes a family". Somehow, the twins had gotten a copy of the family portrait they'd had done before Thanksgiving and had photoshopped Natasha's most recent sonogram where you could clearly see the outline of their daughter. Chase would be her first guess.

Plucking the card from the torn wrapping, Bucky held it out for her to see. _My lyubim tebya, Mama i Papa_. Natasha translated, "We love you, Mother and Father." The rest was in English. "With love from Wanda, Pietro, and Baby Esme."

"We made two. One for home, and one for Father to have on his desk. There is also a disk from which to take a computer or phone background," Pietro told them proudly. "It was Wanda's idea."

Bucky jumped up to hug the twins and returned to his seat. "It's perfect. Who helped you make it? Chase?"

Wanda sipped her drink, returned it to the table and picked up her fork. "No. It was Carolyn. I asked her for ideas on what to give both of you, and she came up with the photos."

Exchanging glances with Bucky, Natasha wondered why she hadn't noticed that Carolyn had finally accepted her not only as her father's new wife, but as the mother of her new little sister. "That was sweet of her. We'll give her a call later to thank her."

~~O~~

When they finished eating, the family left the dishes for later and went back to the living room to open gifts. Wanda and Pietro put on silly Santa hats to pass out the gifts.

Later, while Natasha took a nap surrounded by the cats, Wanda, Pietro and Bucky cleaned the living room, washed the dishes and got dinner ready to go in the oven. It was nothing elaborate, just the leftovers that Joi and Steve insisted they take with them the night before.

Pietro went for a long run while Wanda went into her room to be alone, to think about their plan for Tony Stark. They still wished to exact their revenge and were at odds on how to accomplish it without hurting Natasha and Bucky. Every so often, Pietro would catch a mental image that was gone before he could give it a name. Soon, they would have to speak on this subject again, but not on the day they celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ and their first as a family.

 **December 26** **th**

 **Afternoon**

While Justin and Chase entertained the children, Clint sat on the deck with the rest of the adults. Every so often, he saw Justin's girlfriend watching Nathaniel with a sad and wistful expression. He'd seen that same look on Laura's face after she'd suffered a miscarriage over a year before they finally conceived Nathaniel.

Alice and Gracie were swinging in the gazebo, whispering, and looking at him. Something was up with those two. They got up and ran over to him, tacking a seat on either side. "Hey. What's up, kiddoes?"

Gracie looked at Alice who smiled, and asked, "My mom and dad say you're Hawkeye."

He motioned the girls close, as if he had a secret to tell. "Your mom and dad are right."

"Oh." Both girls watched him with that same unblinking stare they had to have gotten from Natasha. Gracie planted her elbow on table behind them and dropped her chin into her hand. "Tasha says you're the best fighter with a bow and arrow she's ever known. And we were wonderin' somethin'."

He waited patiently for them to get to the point, which he expected to be adoring praise or a request for a demonstration. Sadly, he was mistaken on both counts.

Alice was up next. "If you're so good at shooting a bow and arrow, why do we only hear about the Green Arrow all the time and not _you_?"

"Yeah," Gracie added. "Is it 'cause he's a _better_ fighter?"

Thinking fast on how to sing his own praises without seeming to brag, Clint heard Laura snickering behind him. Ignoring her glee at his discomfort, he came up with something he hoped would satisfy the girls. "We both have exceptional skills and use them in different ways. He doesn't mind having his name in the paper, and I try to keep it on the down-low."

Mirroring Gracie's pose, chin in hand, Alice asked, in all seriousness, "So, in a fight between Hawkeye and the Green Arrow, who would win."

Naturally, Clint wanted to say himself, simply because he and the Arrow had once fought to a stalemate. Looking around, he again motioned the girls close, keeping his voice low. "Godzilla, Alice. The answer to that question is _always_ Godzilla."

 **New Year's Eve**

Sitting in the back of the room, Rey nodded in time to the music, watching Chase dance with Iris, wishing she could do the same with Justin. The cast wouldn't come off until the middle of January though, so she was stuck letting him do all the work.

As Justin wound his way through the crowd carrying their drinks, he stopped to talk to people she was sure he didn't know, treating them like old friends. To her, it proved that he was nearly himself again, the man she met that day in Discount Mart when they sang karaoke in the toy department. A thought that had been floating inside her head flitted in for a landing, making her smile as Justin joined her. He returned the smile, and while it was about him, this one wasn't specifically _for_ him.

"You look happier than I've seen you in a couple of weeks."

Rey sipped her drink and set it on a napkin, twisting it in a circle. "I'll never forget what happened, but I'm to the point where I can function normally."

"And by that…"

She took hold of the hand closest to her and placed it on her thigh under the edge of her dress, pushing it up until he touched the edge of her panties. "Stay with me tonight. Not for comfort or moral support of our shared losses." Locking eyes, she made that slow, seductive smile she knew he couldn't resist. "I want to make love with you until we're too tired to go on, sleep for a while, and when we wake up, do it all again."

Justin's mouth dropped open. He closed it, cleared his throat, and raised a hand. "Check please!"

Laughing, Rey pulled his arm down. "It's not even midnight."

Grinning sheepishly, he removed his hand from under her skirt. "You're right. A night like you described is worth waiting for." He paused a few beats. "What about now?"

~~O~~

Barely able to contain himself, Justin patiently stayed with Rey as she walked the length of sidewalk from the car to her front door. He took the keys to unlock the front door and closed it again behind them. Suddenly, Rey was in his arms, holding his head still while she kissed him senseless. At the same time, one hand lightly caressed the front of his pants. By the time he thought to respond, she'd backed up and headed down the hallway.

"Give me a few minutes to get ready," she told him over her shoulder.

As aroused as he was, their first time together since their separation would likely end rather quickly. For him at least. He wasn't sure about Rey, but from her actions, yeah, her too. Hell, if she didn't hurry up, he might finish without her.

That was fine. It only meant they could take their time, and as she said, spend all night showing their love for each other.

Staring out the window at what was left of the small garden in the neighbor's yard, Justin heard the bathroom door open, followed by the bedroom door closing. "I should brush my teeth at least."

Cleopatra went into the bathroom with him, sitting on the counter watching as he stripped off his jacket, tie and shirt. He made quick work of cleaning up, face, neck, underarms and chest, brushed his teeth, and rinsed just as the bedroom door opened again.

"You can come in now."

Sometimes, when they were about to be intimate, Rey seemed tentative, as if she were afraid that she wouldn't be enough to keep his attention, physically or emotionally. Didn't she know that he was hers for as long as she wanted him? That he has and never would love another the way he loved her? Tonight, he would make sure she knew. But then, by the tone of her voice, he might not have to.

Justin let himself in, closing the door before Cleopatra could get in. His eyes took in the most amazing sight. Rey stood in the middle of the room wearing a green satin robe that stopped at mid-thigh. The flames of a dozen candles flickered over her figure. Before the baby, she'd been athletic, with a flat stomach. Now, her body still carried most of the additional weight she'd put on, giving her voluptuous curves. He didn't care what she looked like, but now, he had a small glimpse of what she would look like pregnant with his child, and that made him want her even more. Made him want to implant her with his seed again, just so he could watch her body change over the course of nine months, knowing that at the end, they'd have a child created out of love.

He waited for a signal from Rey, but she just kept letting her eyes roam over his half naked body, and he let her. This was her show. It would move forward in her time, not his.

~~O~~

Rey looked at Justin long and hard, the flames from the candles dancing over the exposed skin of his chest down to his bare feet, ignoring the fact that he still wore pants. The look, from his long hair, sculpted pecs, washboard abs, and narrow hips giving her the impression that he had risen from those flames, weaving a spell, drawing her in, until they were both consumed by fire.

Here was a man who'd been broken by years of tragedy and pain, forced to do the unspeakable. But she knew he wasn't the monster he'd professed to be when he came home. She'd know it from the moment she saw his face in that rundown church. "Justin…"

"Yeah?" She couldn't get the words right in her head. Justin took a step closer, his eyes dashing over her features. "What do you want, Rey? Tell me."

In an instant, all her fears evaporated, leaving only confidence. In him, and in herself, that she could make him happy for the rest of their lives. Taking his hands, she placed them on her waist, bringing them together, their bodies barely touching. Rey framed his face with her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones down to the corners of his mouth. "I want _you_ , Justin. That's all. All your flaws, mistakes, smiles, giggles, jokes, sarcasm. Everything. I just want _you_. I want us to be together forever." His eyes widened as he realized what she was saying, a smile of such joy, that it could barely be contained. Because she had to say the words, and he had to hear them, Rey stated clearly and for the record, "Justin Phineas Lockwood, will you marry me?"

 **TBC**

"Singin' in the Rain" is a song with lyrics by Arthur Freed and music by Nacio Herb Brown, published in 1931. The song "Singin' In the Rain" is a centerpiece of the musical film of the same name, _Singin' in the Rain_ (1952). It is unclear exactly when the song was written. It's been claimed that the song was performed as early as 1927.

"I Have a Dream" is a song by Swedish pop group ABBA. It was featured on the group's sixth studio album _Voulez-Vous_ and released as a single in December 1979.

"All of Me" is a popular song and jazz standard written by Gerald Marks and Seymour Simons in 1931. First performed by Belle Baker over the radio and recorded in December 1931 by Ruth Etting it has become one of the most recorded songs of its era, with notable versions by many artists over the years.


	137. Chapter 137

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 137**

 **Later That Night**

Wearing only his boxers, Justin cuddled Rey, the big spoon to her little spoon, their fingers intertwined where they lay against her satin covered stomach.

She reached back to touch his face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He planted a light kiss on her neck. "I'm a very understanding guy." Rey adjusted the position of her left leg to keep the cast from pinching the calf of her right. He used his free hand to lightly caress the outside of her top thigh. "Most guys only do the bing and the bang to get the boom. I'm perfectly happy with just the bing and the bang, just one or the other, or neither. It's up to you."

Reclaiming her hand, she rolled onto her back, so she could see his eyes. "I really thought I was ready to do this."

Justin brushed the hair from her face, smiling to let her know he was sincere. "And when you are, I'll be here, as long as it takes."

Raising up on one elbow, Rey watched him with that funny little sideways head tilt. "You never answered my question. Will you marry me?"

He didn't want to talk about this now. "It's not that simple." He sat up on the side of the bed, turned away from the disappointment in her eyes, knowing she felt rejected and hurt. "The therapist I was seeing didn't help much, but I did learn that you should never make major life decisions after an emotional trauma." The bed shifted as Rey scooted across the bed to wrap her arms around his chest and lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm not saying no."

"You're saying not yet."

Rubbing the backs of her hands where they lay against his chest, Justin nodded. "And not only because we've both experienced recent losses. We need to get our relationship back on track before jumping into anything serious, just so we don't have to be alone. Grieving is a process, and part of that is being on our own with the pain as much as it is being with someone, whether it's shared or not."

"What do you suggest?"

"That we backtrack a little. Not all the way to the beginning, but to those weeks before our first time together. To when we were still dating."

Feeling her chest expand and contract against his back, Justin let her think it over, and when her arms loosened their hold he knew she would agree. "Dinner and a movie next week?"

"Absolutely. Lady's choice." A long sigh pushed her warm breath against the side of his neck with a predictable result. One hand skimmed over his chest and under the waistband of his boxers, producing a hiss of pleasure that was close to pain. "Before we go back to the beginning, let's have a little fun."

Quick as a flash, Justin had Rey on her back, nudging her thighs apart so he could lie between them. "Yes. Let's."

He tugged on the end of the robe's tie and slowly parted the sides until he could see all of her. She was right. Just because she wasn't ready for intercourse, didn't mean they couldn't have fun in other ways. Placing his hands beside her shoulders, he kissed a trail from her lips down to the space between her breasts, giving each all the attention it deserved while her fingers toyed with his long hair, nipping at the strands.

His hands splayed over her ribs, moving in at her waist and out again to settle on the upper curves of her hips. As before, he loved that little pooch of flesh she now had over her lower abdomen. He kissed her there to let her know that he loved all of her, regardless of a few extra pounds or saggy skin.

Working his way down, Justin took his time, making absolutely certain that she was satisfied in every way possible.

~~O~~

Her energy spent for the moment, Rey loosened her hold on Justin's hair, allowing him to lift his head and lay it on her stomach after one more lingering kiss just below her navel.

When he opened the robe, she'd wanted to push him away so he wouldn't see how her body had changed in the few short months of pregnancy. The thought that he might not allow it never crossed her mind. If she said no, he wouldn't force the issue. The moment his eyes beheld her nakedness, she knew he would treat her right. That he would, in his words, give her the bing and the bang without going for the boom. She could do no less for him.

Placing a hand on either side of his head, Rey let him know that it was now his turn. But then, he gave her that wicked smirk, removed her hands, laying them on either side of her head, and went back to work. And though the quivering in her nether regions had only just subsided, that surge of sexual awareness rushed through her again, and she let him do whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted. After all, it had been months since her last intimate encounter, and there was always, mmm… tomorrow.

~~O~~

After Rey fell asleep, Justin got up to get a drink and came back to sit in the chair, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. She was curled up like a little girl, the covers bunched up around her neck.

He hadn't expected her to go along with his idea of starting over, but she was sincere about wanting them to be a couple again as he was. Her willingness to take a step back proved she was ready to work at rebuilding their relationship.

Cleopatra jumped in his lap, begging for pets. Justin stroked her soft fur letting part of his mind think about his inheritance from Sean. Neither Sean nor Joe had mentioned what type of car was in the storage unit, and he hadn't asked. Whatever it was, he'd donate it to charity in Sean's name.

Movement under the covers signaled that Rey was waking up. Justin carried Cleopatra to the door and put her out before joining Rey on the bed. He lifted the covers and slid in beside her, cuddling close, but not in a way that said he expected more than that.

She rolled over, carefully adjusting her legs to keep from kicking him with the cast, wrapping him in her naked embrace with her head tucked against his neck. As always, when her breath puffed against his skin on each exhale, he became aroused. Her smile against his chest said she felt it too.

A sleepy moan came from her throat, and, a moment later, her lips pressed a soft kiss to the base of his throat while one hand skimmed around to play with the hairs on his chest. She didn't stop there. Those slender fingers lightly trailed down his ribs to the edge of his boxers, moving around to the side and back, over and over.

Rey's lips and tongue by turns licked and sucked on his overheated skin. At the same time, her hand slipped under the elastic and proceeded to drive him wild. As the end drew near, she did the unthinkable. She stopped what she was doing, and whispered, "Take them off, Justin."

 **Justin's Apartment**

 **The Next Afternoon**

Justin stopped at the office to pick up a package before driving around to his apartment. Reading the return address as he climbed to the second floor, he saw that it had come from the office of The Next American Star. He let himself in, set Dexter's carrier on the floor to let him out, and flopped in the recliner to open the envelope. Inside, he found a cream colored embossed envelope containing his invitation to audition when the show came to the D.C. area in two weeks. It included a pass for one other person, but he didn't want anyone to come with him. He just wanted to get in, sing a song that would guarantee he wouldn't get picked, and get out, his obligation to Sean all buttoned up.

He propped the envelope against the fake potted plant on the small table and went to see what Dexter was getting into. The kitten had climbed up the side of the bed and was chasing invisible enemies all over the unmade bed. "We gotta get you some toys, little buddy." A yawn forced its way out of him. "But first, a nap."

Toeing off his shoes, Justin kicked them in the corner and stripped down to his boxers. Or he would have had he been wearing them. To the best of his knowledge, they were bunched up under Rey's covers or on her floor. "I'll get 'em later," he said as he lay down and pulled the blanket up to his neck.

As he was about to go to sleep, Dexter pounced on him and danced away in an obvious invitation to play. "Go 'way. Daddy's sleepin'."

The kitten was relentless, forcing Justin to the conclusion that he wouldn't be getting sleep any time soon. He went to the hall closet for supplies and sat at the table making toys to keep Dexter entertained.

 **The Barnes Family Residence**

Bucky came downstairs after installing the safe in the back of the walk-in closet in their room to find Natasha sitting at the dining room table with one of her many gun cleaning kits open and the pieces of a weapon spread out in front of her. A single magazine lay off to one side. She was so fully engrossed in the task of cleaning each piece until it gleamed that he was sure she hadn't heard him.

"Would you make me a cup of tea, please, husband?"

"So much for trying to sneak up on you." He gave her a kiss as he passed. A few minutes later, Bucky joined Natasha at the table with a cup of tea for each of them and a plate of crackers for her stomach. "Is that new?"

"It is to me. Justin brought it when he came to pick up Dexter." Her look of concentration wavered slightly. "It used to be Sean's."

That surprised Bucky as he hadn't thought Sean knew much about weapons. "Didn't seem the type."

Natasha looked at him and back to her work. "He wasn't. Sean bought it to kill himself."

Bucky's jaw hit the floor. He closed it, took a sip of tea and picked up a cracker. "Justin stopped him."

"Zoe did, in a manner of speaking." She finished cleaning the last piece and repacked the cleaning kit, closed it up, and set it aside. With quick, efficient motions, Natasha reassembled the nine-millimeter handgun in under a minute. She pulled the slide to check the action, put the safety on and laid it on the table, pointed at the back wall.

"Wow! I've never seen you do that. You're amazing," Bucky said with undisguised pride and admiration.

With a smug grin, she commented, "Yeah. Forest Gump's got nothin' on _me_."

Before she could get up, he took the kit and placed it in the hidden drawer at the back of the china cabinet. Higher up, he knew there to be several weapons loaded and ready to use at a moment's notice. And those weren't the only ones. His lovely, delicate, compassionate and pregnant wife had weapons stashed all over the house.

Natasha finished her tea, picked up the gun and magazine, pushed away from the table and stood. Bucky followed her down to the basement and across the floor to the blank wall opposite the stairs. She opened the secret compartment, entered her code, and the wall slid into itself to reveal a small room, three walls of which held a variety of weapons on display. The ammo went into a drawer and the weapon was placed in one of the few blank spaces on the wall.

Stepping back, she smiled with satisfaction. "Looks good. Breaks up the monotony of the knives."

Dropping an arm around her shoulders, he exhaled silently. "You know, when you said you wanted to install a secret room for your," he made air quotes, "tools of the trade, I had my doubts. I mean, why would anyone want to display guns, rifles, knives, throwing stars, and so forth?"

Stepping out of his embrace, Natasha turned in a circle, waving a hand at the walls. "I'll have you know that each and every one of these has saved my life at one time or another."

He pointed to a Tribuzio ring trigger palm pistol. "What about that one?"

"That? Oh," she waved carelessly as she made for the stairs, "that's just for decoration. What's for dinner? I'm starving!"

 **Three Days Later**

Justin awoke to Dexter batting him on the nose. "You learn quick, don't you? Fine. I'll get up and feed you."

He mixed the can food with some of the formula and set it on the floor. Dexter was on it so fast you'd think he hadn't been fed in days instead of hours. Justin went to the bathroom and was about to go back to bed when he saw his phone blinking a message. It was a text from the storage company saying that they hadn't been paid in over a month and he either had to get the contents out of the unit or they'd be sold. "Assholes. Don't they know I'm a grieving widowerer?"

If he got dressed and left now, he'd arrive just after they opened. Or he could wait until tomorrow when he had more sleep. He yawned and scratched his stomach. "Might as well go now."

Once dressed, Justin made sure there wasn't anything for Dexter to get into and left before he tried to go with him. He made good time and got there just as the manager was opening the office. He showed him the paperwork that said he was now the owner, paid up the past due balance, and made his way back to the unit where his inheritance was stored.

Inside the unit, he walked around the car, Justin examining it from all angles. Whoever had done the restoration had done a great job. "I can't sell this. Sean's dad would say I only wanted the money." He made a scoffing sound. "He'll eat those words."

Taking out his phone, he dialed a specific number. "Hi. I have a car I'd like to donate to your museum… Inherited it… Yes. Oh, now that would be telling. Why don't I just have it trucked over, and you decide if you want it or not? Just put me down as an anonymous donor… There is one condition though. Write this down…"

 **The Saunders Classic Auto Institute**

 **South Bend, Indiana**

 **The Following Week**

The tow truck pulled up to the front of the museum and stopped, drawing a crowd. Eyes wide, several people came from inside the building as the driver jumped from the cab holding a tablet and an envelope. The crowd whispered among themselves, and the topic of conversation was naturally the car under the tarp on the back of the truck.

The driver looked over the museum staff clustered on the sidewalk. "Got a delivery. Who do I talk to?"

A man dressed as a security guard stepped forward. "Deliveries are in the rear, and only on Wednesdays. We're not expecting anything until next month."

Sighing impatiently, the driver swung up onto the bed of the truck. "Then what am I supposed to do with this for the next two days?" He leaned on the roof of the covered vehicle. "You wanna put me up in a hotel until Wednesday, I'm game. If not, I can just drop it here and _you_ decide what to do with it. I get paid either way."

The guard stumbled forward. "No! I mean, please don't. The curator is on her way down."

"She's here." A slender woman approached with hips swaying, the heels of her boots clicking on the cement. She had perfectly styled short blonde hair and looked to be in her forties. Her clothing whispered understated elegance. She wore a chocolate brown long-sleeved cowl neck sweater dress that outlined her hourglass figure, stopping two inches above her knees, and was accessorized with gold jewelry inset with tiger-eye stones the same color as her piercing eyes. "Katherine Bascomb. What seems to be the problem?"

Startled by the husky sound of her voice, the driver cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, Kathy, I got this here car to deliver and no one wants to claim it." He pulled the cover off the front end, and the crowd gasped. Sitting on the platform was a shiny red 1966 Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto. Squatting at the edge, he handed her the sealed envelope.

" _Katherine_. Ms. Bascomb to you." She held his gaze a few seconds longer than necessary before dropping them to read the outside of the envelope. Sliding a long fingernail under the edge of the flap, she opened it, took out the pages, quickly reading over the material. "The Duetto is being donated to the museum anonymously?"

"That's what they tell me, Kathy." The driver replaced the tarp, taking great care that the car was completely covered. "So, you want I should drop it here…" he gave her a smoldering grin, "…or you got someplace a little more… private?"

Katherine returned his gaze with a bold onceover but didn't correct him again. She passed the paperwork to the guard. "Take it around to the loading dock." Giving him one last haughty glance, she turned on her heel and walked away. She'd gone only a few steps when the driver jumped to the ground and caught her by the hand.

"Whoa, there, honey. Someone's gotta sign for it, and I was told not to take just anyone's John Hancock. Gotta be the head honcho's." He produced a pen and turned his back. Katherine signed using his back, clicked the pen, and handed it and the pages back. The driver shuffled through them and handed several to her with a wink. "Nice doin' business with you. Ya know, you're not what I expected, Kathy."

Her brown gaze landed on his, any trace of a smile gone as if it had never been. "And what _did_ you expect? An oil-stained jumpsuit, work boots, greasy hair and a backwards baseball cap with the logo of a long-distance trucking company? That's what I wear on casual Fridays." Lifting her chin, Katherine turned and strode quickly into the building, and the driver watched her go with a grin.

Several days later, the museum featured a new addition to their exhibit.

 _1966 Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto_

 _This classic sports car was donated to the museum in the name of Sean Patrick Riggs, creator and lead singer of the band Ambiguous._

 _Sean, a native of South Bend, was not only a talented artist and musician, but a loving son, brother, uncle and friend._

 _May he rest in peace forevermore._

 **The Rogers Family Home**

On her knees in the bathroom with her head over the toilet, Mia groaned. One hand grabbed a washcloth and wet it in the sink, using it to wipe her face and mouth. "Oh, God why couldn't you spare me this?"

She pushed to her feet, turned on the water in the sink to splash her face and rinse her mouth, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "'Want a baby? Oh, no problem! How hard can it be to pop out one or two fully developed human beings?'" She groaned again. "If this is how it's gonna be every time then I'm done. No more."

At the door, she hiccupped, clapped a hand over her mouth and went back to the toilet, barely getting her head over the bowl just as more came up.

~~O~~

Meanwhile, Steve, Sam, and Joi, with Alice and the dogs supervising, were moving Mia's things into the recently renovated guest room. Some of the furniture would go with Sam to his new apartment less than five minutes away. Joi arranged the furniture and hung up Mia's clothes, though she needn't have bothered as she'd need maternity clothes in a few weeks. Still, it kept her busy until her cousin came out of the bathroom from being sick.

She ran downstairs to get more from the truck just as Mia was coming out of the bathroom looking a little green around the gills. "You okay?"

Mia leveled a glare that would've made most people cringe. "Hell no, I'm not okay!" She grabbed the front of Joi's shirt and pulled her close. "Tea. Get me tea and crackers."

First, Joi helped her cousin to the living room sofa, then covered her with a blanket. "Poor thing. Just think, it'll all be over in seven months." She beat a retreat to the kitchen. A pillow slapped against the wall and fell to the floor. Joi picked it up. "Is that any way to treat the mother of your child?"

Again, Mia groaned. "Oh, God I hate you."

Joi came back with a tray. "Lemon ginger tea with honey, plain rice cakes, and some peppermints to suck on. It's what Nat's been using. See how it works." She poured hot water over the tea bag, added the honey, and gave it a stir. "Keep in mind that cravings should start in a few weeks."

Bringing the cup to her mouth, Mia mumbled, "Can't wait." She sipped the tea and was soon looking more like her old self. "I should've had one more gigantic alcoholic blow-out before this. I already miss being able to eat or drink anything I want."

Taking a seat next to her, Joi brushed the hair out of her face. "Sorry, not sorry. You're giving us the most precious gift Steve and I could ever hope for. It'll all be worth it in the end."

Mia leaned against her, groaning. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"I have an appointment with the doctor next week. Will you drive me?"

She hugged her close. "You bet. If you're up to it, we'll go shopping afterwards. I'll buy you something pretty."

"You always know how to make me feel better."

Alice came running in and flopped down next to Mia. "I'm sorry you're sick, Mia. Want me to make you some of my special cookies?"

Mia produced a smile and Joi could see what it cost her to be kind to the little girl when she felt so miserable. "Not right now, sweetie. Maybe some toast and broth would be better."

Excited at the prospect of being about to help, Alice headed for the kitchen and stopped. "I'm not supposed to use the stove without Mom or Dad." She ran back to grab Joi's hand and pull her along. "We need to make Mia something to eat, Mom."

Over her shoulder, Joi gave her cousin a sheepish shrug.

 **The Lockwood Home**

Unable to concentrate on work, Carolyn left the home office, put on a jacket, hat and gloves, and took Scamp for a walk down to the dog park. She let him off the leash to run around with his friends and found a bench in the sun.

The situation with Novacek had gotten out of hand and guilt nipped at her brain night and day. She hadn't planned on killing him, not at first. But when she found out that he was sent by the same unscrupulous organization that had used her father and son to do their dirty work, her path had been clear. She used Novacek to send a message to the ones pulling the strings: don't mess with the Barnes family.

It was said that confession was good for the soul. Too bad. No way was she going to spend the rest of her life in prison. With what the family had been through the past few years, going to the police would put them squarely in the spotlight again.

That day at Nicole's when she'd caused Gracie to forget she had a special talent, the incident in her own past had come back to Carolyn full force. Since then, many of her nights had been replays of that time in her life where she'd nearly, as she told Gracie, gone over to the dark side.

Once again, the memories ran through Carolyn's mind as if she were watching a movie about someone else's life…

 **Virginia Tech**

 **Thirty-Seven Years Ago**

As she hit the third-floor landing, Carolyn saw the front door to the apartment across from hers had been kicked in. A woman's scream followed by the harsh tones of a man spurred her to quick action. Her groceries hit the floor along with her purse. Without a thought to her own welfare, she burst through the broken door, ran down the hall and into the bedroom.

A man in dark clothing stood over her neighbor cowering on the bed. He drew back his fist. "No one dumps me, bitch! No one! I'm gonna hurt you so bad no man'll ever want you!"

Carolyn darted forward with the incredible speed she'd inherited from her father, grabbed the man's shoulder and spun him around. At the same time, her left fist hooked around to get him on the side of the head. He stumbled back and nearly fell on top of the woman, as she scrambled to the head of the bed using her feet and hands.

When he saw Carolyn, long-haired, five-seven and slender for her height, facing him down, he laughed out loud. "What d'we got here? Tryin' to be the hero, huh?" His expression darkened as he advanced on her. Over his shoulder, he snarled, "I'll be back. First I gotta take care of this little thing."

She wasn't scared, never was, but he didn't need to know that. All she had to do was get him away from her neighbor, so she could call the cops. To that end, she let him see fear in her eyes a millisecond before turning tail.

As Carolyn reached the first floor, she could hear the man taking the stairs three at a time. Too bad he hadn't reckoned tangling with the eldest child of one of the Howling Commandoes. She hit the front door, took the steps in one jump, and kept going. To make sure he didn't give up the chase, she slowed down just enough to give him a sense that victory was within his grasp.

Darting between two buildings, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was still behind her. As she reached the alley, Carolyn tripped and fell, landing face down in the grass. Before she could regain her feet, the man was standing over her. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to her feet.

Carolyn let out a sound of desperation and fear. The scent of alcohol wafted between them as he pushed his face close to hers. " _Nobody_ messes with me, bitch," he ground out, his lips curled back in a snarl. He dragged her in the direction they'd come. "When I'm done teaching Tracy a lesson, you're next. Let's see if you're still as cocky when you've had a _real_ man."

Every time Carolyn fell, he would relentlessly drag her along until she could get her feet under her again. They reached the third floor, and with one hard shove, he pushed her into her neighbor's apartment and down the hall to the bedroom.

When he saw that Tracy was gone, his grip loosened, and Carolyn fell to the floor, relieved that the other woman had gotten away. Angry, he swept all the items on the vanity and dresser onto the floor. "F****** _bitch_!"

As he faced her again, in his eyes was the intent to take his frustration out on the only other person within reach.

Instead of cowering or making an attempt to get away, Carolyn slowing got to her feet, and flipped her ponytail behind her while taking a step toward him. "We'll see who's going to be whose bitch, _bitch_." His eyes pinched in confusion, partially because of his alcoholic state and the rest at the lack of fear in her eyes.

"When I'm done with _you_ , just the _thought_ of touching another human being for any reason will make you want to vomit." Her small hands curled into fists. "Ever meet up with someone you should'nt've _f*****_ with? Well, that's me."

To increase his unease, Carolyn took another step forward, smiling unpleasantly.

 **TBC**

Tribuzio Ring Trigger Palm Pistol - Manufactured by Catello Tribuzio in Torin, Italy, circa 1890. The pistol has an internal "box" magazine.


	138. Chapter 138

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 138**

The man's eyes narrowed as he worked out how their roles had suddenly been reversed. Now Carolyn was the hunter and he was the prey. While his alcohol-addled brain was deciding how to proceed, she looked him over. Cleaned up and sober, he wouldn't be classically handsome, but not butt-ugly either. At the moment, his shoulders were hunched. With his back straight, he'd be about six feet, with a few extra pounds. His brown eyes were glassy, and his face hadn't come into contact with a razor in at least a week. Same for showering and his clothes.

Carolyn put her hands out, palms up, almost imploringly. "Look, pal, I get it. Life isn't easy for any of us. Some more than others, especially the stupid ones." Those same hands returned to her sides. "That doesn't mean you have to take your frustrations out on others."

The moment he made his decision, she saw it in his eyes, the intent to hurt her and anyone else who got in his way. "Shut the **** up! Just shut up! You don't know anything about me!"

Taking one more step in his direction, Carolyn dipped her chin. "I know _stupid_ when I see it."

Quicker than she thought in his condition, he lunged toward her, hands claw-like, ready to throttle her. She side-stepped, and he nearly fell. Now their positions had changed again, and he knew it. He turned to run. She darted forward, grabbed him under the chin with one hand and kicked him behind the knees with the opposite leg. He fell on his back with a hard thump, knocking the wind out of him. She was on him before he could take it in, all her weight pressing into his solar plexus.

Her left hand gripped him around the throat to hold him still. "The police are on their way, and you, my friend, are going to spend a long time in jail. Not nearly long enough, in my estimation. So, here's what we're going to do. When the cops take you into the interrogation room before they book you, you're going to confess to every crime you've ever committed as an adult, including moving and parking violations and jaywalking. Got that?"

"Screw you, bitch!" He grabbed for her again. However, the superior strength she inherited from her father served her well, and her captive was unable to get free.

"No. Screw _you_ for preying on those weaker than yourself." The man flinched as she pressed her right palm against the side of his neck. "I _need_ you to confess to your crimes, all of them, no matter how minor, beginning with the women you've terrorized and assaulted." His struggles weakened. "I _need_ you to never harm another person as long as you live." The man's breathing sped up and his arms fell away. "I _need_ you to not tell the cops what I've done to you."

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn't seem to be as affected by her abilities as others. He pushed her off of him and she fell against a table, knocking it over and scattering the items on it. He scrambled to his feet. Carolyn grabbed the end of the rug and pulled, knocking him to the floor again. Angry, she rolled to her feet and kicked him in the ribs, making him grunt. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?"

Carolyn got down on one knee and pressed her palm to his neck again, this time using a different facet of her abilities. She watched the blood drain from his face. His breathing became labored and his eyes clouded over. Though she'd never done it before, she knew that, if she drained enough of his life force, the man would die, and she _wanted_ him to die for all the heinous things he'd done.

The shriek of sirens came closer, and footsteps sounded on the stairs, bringing Carolyn to her senses. She jerked her hand away crawled over to lean against the end of the bed, her breaths coming fast. After all that had happened, she wouldn't have to fake injuries. Her head still hurt from being dragged by the hair, and she had bruises, scratches and scrapes from their fight. Given the disparity of their sizes, she would have no problem convincing the police that she was the victim.

All while she was growing up, Mom and Dad said that she was a terrible liar, but the truth was very different. She had lied many, many times without getting caught. And when she did, it was because she wanted to. Most of those times were to protect her younger siblings from getting into trouble for things like staying out past curfew, sneaking out of the house, or taking the car without permission. Now, that ability, along with the others she possessed that not even her family knew about, would serve her purpose: to have a poor excuse for a human being put away where he couldn't hurt others.

She pulled the tie from her long hair, mussed it, and sagged to the floor just as Tracy, followed by several uniformed policemen, came into the room. They looked over the room seeing only a small disheveled woman, bruised and beaten, and a man much bigger than she, lying on the floor in a room where there had obviously been a struggle, and came to the conclusion that Carolyn had staged: that _he'd_ attacked _her_ , not the other way around.

~~O~~

Sitting side by side in the ambulance, Carolyn and Tracy bore the ministrations from the EMTs with barely concealed annoyance. When she had enough, Carolyn pushed his hands away. "I'm _fine_."

The woman working on Tracy applied one last bandage to the back of her hand, closed the kit and put it away. Tracy grabbed Carolyn's hand. "I'm so glad you're okay. When Frank chased you, I thought the worst."

Carolyn patted the hand and smiled. "And you. What was _with_ that guy anyway? How long had you been dating?"

Tracy rolled her eyes and made a sound that was part huff, part groan. "We _weren't_. To celebrate acing our labs a few weeks ago, my study group headed for this bar over in D.C. Frank was there. He introduced himself and stuck by my side the rest of the night." One shoulder went up and down, added to a sheepish head shake. "He was nice enough at first. Bought me a couple of drinks, we danced, and at the end of the night, he wasn't happy that I wouldn't go home with him or give him my number."

"How did he find out where you live?"

"Dunno. But thanks for being there. Sorry he beat you up too."

Waving away the praise and the comment about the beating, Carolyn was about to leave when a cop climbed in the back of the ambulance. "The lieutenant sent me to take your statements, girls."

At the man's condescending tone, Carolyn's anger came out again. "We're not _girls_ , officer. We're _women_ and expect to be treated with as such. If that's not something you can do, then we're outta here, and you can send someone else to take those statements." She held Tracy's hand. "Come on. You can stay with me until the super fixes your door."

The women stood, but the cop wouldn't get out of their way. "Whoa. Didn't mean no disrespect. I'm just doin' my job here." He paused a moment. "Please, _ladies_."

That was more like it. Ever since the "women's movement", Carolyn noticed that men weren't observing the little courtesies once afforded to women automatically. That was all well and good, but courtesy should be omnipresent and not just for women. She often held the door open for men, women, children, didn't matter. Letting the door close in someone's face was just rude.

She nodded. "What d'you want to know?"

The man sat on the stretcher and took out a pad and pencil. "Let's start with you, uh?"

"Tracy Hurst. I'm a grad student at Virginia Tech."

Before he could ask, Carolyn supplied the same information. "Carolyn Barnes. Same."

Now the cop looked at her with admiration. "That was brave of you, standing up to him that way. Because of both of you, we now have a suspected serial rapist in custody. Frank Harris was on the short list of suspects, but there was no proof he'd done it."

"Glad we could help," Carolyn deadpanned. "Can we finish this? I need a shower, and I know Tracy would like to get cleaned up too."

"Oh, yeah. So, Miss Hurst, how did you and the suspect meet?"

~~O~~

Lying on the sofa while Tracy slept in her bed, Carolyn thought over the events of the evening. Tracy expressed her wish to find a new place to live, and to tell the truth, Carolyn did too. In the morning, she would make a tentative suggestion that they combine their resources by sharing a two-bedroom apartment. Money wasn't a concern what with her scholarship and Mom and Dad paying her living expenses to let her live off campus. Anything she could do to ease their burden she would.

That wasn't her biggest concern. The abilities that had manifested themselves a year or so before she graduated high school had come in handy tonight. She'd used them before, but only to ease her transition from high school salutatorian to the bottom of the pecking order in college. Not once had it been to get ahead in her classes. Just to make friends with the other students. That way, she'd have a group of people she could point to as having similar interests in and out of classes.

Every time she employed her abilities, Carolyn felt empowered, as if she could change the world, reminding her of all the stories Dad told about his childhood friend, Steve Rogers. With practice, she'd gotten better at using her abilities and it wasn't such a strain. But now that she'd used them for more than simple tasks like making friends, it was an adrenaline rush, almost like she'd ingested a mind-altering drug. She wanted to do it again, just so she could feel that surge of power once more, but wouldn't.

Carolyn pulled the covers up to her neck, closed her eyes, and went to sleep, visions of being a superhero dancing in her dreams.

 **Present**

With the memory of stopping the man, who'd turned out to be a serial rapist terrorizing the area, Carolyn also remember the promise to herself not to use her powers. She'd broken that promise almost immediately.

For the next few months, she had purposely gone looking for trouble, and often found it. She'd begun to enjoy the look on people's faces when they knew they'd been bested by a woman. A purse snatcher started it all. Then, a foiled carjacking, some convenience store robberies, one home robbery, and the coup de grace, three men beating up a fourth because they suspected he was gay, just because they saw him talking to someone outside a gay bar. Whether he was or wasn't gay meant nothing to her as she stepped in.

Carolyn's memory replayed the scene where she caught up with the ringleader. They fought, with her coming out the winner. The man had lain on the ground in a garbage-strewn alley that smelled of stale coffee grounds, rotten eggs, cigarettes, and urine, begging her not to hurt him.

 _People like you are_ _a disease, pal. And_ _I'm_ _the cure_.

She'd touched the side of his neck and uttered the words that would lead to his death, watched the life drain out of his face, listened to the air wheezing in his chest become a death rattle. A siren had interrupted her concentration, and the man had drawn in a gasping breath.

At that moment, she realized she'd almost killed him, had _wanted_ to kill him, just to see how it felt. Then, something Dad once said came back to her. Carolyn had asked him what it was like killing all those men during the wars in which he'd fought.

" _It's like anything else, baby girl. The first one is always the hardest. After that, everything gets easier, even killing. Some people, and not just soldiers, get such a taste for it they can't stop after the war ends. It becomes an addiction, like drugs or alcohol."_

" _How did_ _you_ _stop, Dad?" she asked in her child-like innocence._

 _His gaze had gone to her mother, sitting across the room feeding her newborn brother, Jacob. He smiled sadly and held her hand. "I had your mother to help me through it. Also, a promotion took me off the battlefield and put me in charge of training others to do the fighting."_

A beep from her phone snapped her back to the present; a text from Martin.

* _I'm getting dinner started. What would you like?_ *

Feeling like the luckiest woman in the world to have found a loving man like her husband, Carolyn tapped out a response. ** _Anything. At the park with Scamp. Be home soon. ILY._ **

* _ILY2._ *

Until Novacek had come to town, with his determination to take Wanda and Pietro away from Dad and Natasha, Carolyn hadn't used her abilities for more than easing Martin's heartburn or the symptoms of a cold or flu for family members who weren't blood related. That she'd used Gracie's burgeoning powers to further her agenda had left her nauseous and filled with guilt. She hoped that by helping the girl to forget she had them that it would ease her own conscience, but it hadn't. Like Dad, Carolyn would use the love of her family to help her through.

 **Island Faire Restaurant**

The server brought their drinks, took their dinner order and walked away. Rey picked up her ginger ale and cranberry juice and waited for Justin to do the same. "To us."

"To us." They sipped their drinks and set the glasses on the table.

"Tell me something."

Justin leaned back in his chair, seeming more at ease than he had since his return the dead. "Hit me."

A slow smile spread over her features. "The time we spent apart was for your benefit more than mine, and it worked. You're more like you were when we first met."

His lopsided grin made her stomach do a little flip. "That's because I stopped fighting my inner demons."

"Yeah? How'd that work out?"

"We're on the same side now." Rey laughed out loud and he just grinned. "Once I embraced that part of me, realizing that it would always be there, it was like most of the anger and shame and self-loathing became less. It'll never go away, but now we live together in a kind of cold war-type of harmony." He fidgeted with the silverware. "Having Dexter, a tiny little life that gave me complete trust without knowing anything about me, my family, and you did most of the work. Then, a little girl by the name of Zoe made me see that my past was what made me _me_ , and she loved the me that I am today. Because _she_ loved me as I am, warts and all, I figured that I could do no less."

Somewhat surprised that she was a part of that equation, Rey's eyes stung with unshed tears. "I'm glad, or we wouldn't be here today."

His wistful smile turned into ruefulness. "Or we would, but it would be awkward because of those unforeseen circumstances, about which you may or may not have elected to keep me in the dark. I'd never hold your choices against you. It was your decision how to proceed."

"You sound so analytical about a traumatic event."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to trivialize what you went through all the months since we last saw each other. It wasn't meant that way."

Rey shook her head. "That's not what _I_ meant either. I get that's how your mind works now. A little of the old Justin, a little of the new Justin, add in some of your own unforeseen circumstances, and we're shaken _and_ a stirred."

The server brought their appetizers and left again. "A very James Bond way of putting it." Justin busied himself with adding dressing to his salad, and Rey thought he was done with the subject, but she was wrong. "That therapist wasn't a quack by any means. And he did help some. He made me see that depression and PTSD aren't weaknesses. They're a sign that you've been strong for too long."

Justin had more to say, and Rey kept quiet, letting him get it all out.

"I just…" he used his fork to push the food around in the bowl, "I wish someone had told me that it was okay _not_ to be strong all the time."

Taking his hand so he would look at her, Rey smiled with understanding. "With me, you _don't_ have to be strong all the time, Justin. Once in a while, it's okay to let someone else be strong _for_ you. Remember that _your_ emotions are just as valid as anyone else's. _Feel_ them, without being ashamed or embarrassed that you have them. I'll never laugh at your pain. Unless you hit your funny bone. Then all bets are off."

As she hoped, Justin laughed and reclaimed his hand. "You could always make me laugh. That's one of the reason I fell in love with you." He leaned closed, wiggling his eyebrows and leering. "And those amazing breasts."

Rolling her eyes, Rey gave him a little shove, and went back to her salad.

 **The Next Day**

"You're doing quite well, Ms. Barnes. Just a little morning sickness."

Nausea made Mia's stomach clench. She swallowed to keep from throwing up while Joi answered for her. "How are she and the baby, doctor?"

"Both in excellent health, Ms. Lockwood. Vital signs are normal. No sign of gestational diabetes. She's gained five pounds, but that's to be expected. According to the sonogram, we can put the due date at no later than the nineteenth of August."

The doctor removed his gloves and the nurse used the controls to bring Mia into an upright position. "How long will the morning sickness last?"

"As long as it lasts. A few weeks, a few months, or until birth. It's difficult to tell." He patted her on the knee. "We'll see you again in a month. Don't forget to take the vitamins I prescribed."

The nurse left them alone and Mia went behind the partition to get dressed. "I noticed they didn't mention gender. Probably can't tell yet."

" _Does it matter? You get what you get. Besides, I told him not to tell me. And don't forget our agreement. The baby, boy or girl, has to be named after Sean_."

"Steve and I talked it over. What do you think of Joseph Sean Rogers after Steve's dad for a boy and Lauren Sianna, spelled s-i-a-n-n-a, after you?"

Mia came around the partition and sat in the chair to put her socks and shoes on. "Why me? I'm just the incubator. What was Steve's mother's name?"

Joi winced. "Sarah. That would make her initials SSR. Let's not go there. Hmm… We wouldn't want to name her after Steve's ex, Peggy Carter. That would make her Margaret Sianna Rogers."

"Meh. Not feeling it. And _no_ to the ex's inclusion. If you guys like Lauren, then go with that, but use the s-e-a-n spelling for the middle name. I know it's more common for boys, but it's used for girls too. Remember that actress, Sean Young?"

"Oh, right. Well, we have six and a half months to think about it." Joi handed Mia her purse and coat. "I promised you we'd go shopping if you were a good girl while the doctor examined you. Let's hit the road."

~~O~~

Out in the hallway, Mia hooked her arm through Joi's. "We should get clothes a little big, don't you think?"

"Might be a good idea. Look at what happened to Nat. One day, she just looks like she's gained a little weight, and a few days later, wow!"

"And she was still able to dance ballet." They got in the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. "Gramps wasn't happy about it though."

Mia could see there was something on her cousin's mind and planned on bringing it up once they were alone again. "Gramps is a worrywart. If he had his way, she'd spend the next couple of months in bed being waited on hand and foot by himself and the twins. Which reminds me… You didn't have to valet park. I'm perfectly capable of walking from the parking lot."

Joi handed a ticket to the valet. "Nothing's too good for the mother of my child." The young man did a double-take that made them laugh. "I just love doing that, don't you?"

Once he was out of earshot, Mia commented, "The look on his face was priceless. Just think how embarrassed Steve would be in the same situation."

Joi looked over at her from the driver's seat. "Don't even think of it, Mia. He has enough to worry about as it is. The good part is the show will be on summer hiatus July, August, and September. Plenty of time to bond with little Joseph or Lauren." They pulled into traffic and got on the highway. "We're going to tell Sean's parents about the baby. They deserve to know that a part of their son survived."

"I agree. Just don't bring _me_ into it." Something the doctor said finally clicked. "Wait. The doctor said August 19th. Nine months from the day we went to the insemination clinic would be closer to September 17th."

"Yeah. So?"

Mia did a quick calculation in her head and came up with the same answer as before. "So, I'm four weeks farther along than I should be." She grabbed Joi's arm. "OMG! Do you _know_ what this means?"

"What?" Her cousin's voice held a touch of fear and apprehension. "Don't tell me _Sam's_ the father and not Sean."

She shook her head, shocked and more than a little giddy at the same time. "Sam and I haven't been together since before Gramps' Halloween party. No, this baby is _absolutely_ Sean's."

"Then _what_?"

Sitting back in her seat feeling smug, Mia lifted her chin and smiled, quite pleased with herself. "It means that I got pregnant the day Justin and Sean came to Gramps' before leaving for Indiana."

Joi slammed on her brakes causing the cars behind her to do the same. They honked and drove around as she maneuvered onto the breakdown lane. "Wait! You had _sex_ … with _Sean_? There was actual physical contact between…"

"His naughty bits and mine more than once that night. Not even Justin caught on to the fact that we were goin' at it first in the bathroom and again in the back of his car." She chuckled. "Sean may have been gay, of which I've never been entirely convinced, and dying, but he still had some life in him, and one of those little buggers did the trick. And I was able to save enough to use his DNA two more times."

A car honked, and Joi jumped. She put the car in gear and got them moving again. "Let me get this straight, if you'll pardon the pun, you had _sex_ with my gay/bisexual brother's ex-boyfriend-turned-husband less than a week _before_ they were married, and now you're having his baby."

"Yup."

Joi opened and closed her mouth a few times, cleared her throat and signaled to get off the highway. "Does Justin know?"

"He didn't at the time. About the sex, I mean. Found out later. Seems Sean couldn't help bragging. Not that I blame him." She breathed on her knuckles and rubbed them on her jacket. "I did give him four out of five stars for his performances."

A long exhale told Mia that Joi was just going to go with the flow. "Fine, I'll bite. Why not five out of five?"

Mia pointed to a specific place on her body. "He left teeth marks on my…"

Waving to stop her from talking, Joi made a strange noise. "Zzzt! Stop! Just stop!" She found a parking space not far from the mall's food court entrance. "We are _not_ , under _any_ circumstances, going to tell Steve about this. Got it?"

"Got it. You might want to have a quick word with your brothers though. Justin can't keep a secret from Chase, and Chase can't keep a secret from Iris. On the upside, Iris won't tell a soul, even if she's bribed."

Joi sagged in relief. "Thank God." She grabbed her purse and both women got out. "We can't tell Gramps or Nat either. It's too weird a story even for _this_ family."

Tucking her arm around Joi's shoulders, Mia laughed. "Do you have _any_ idea what you just said?"

"Oh, ****! It _is_ happening, right now. I need a _drink_. Anything will do. I can pretend its alcohol."

"You know, I haven't been hungry for a couple of days, but suddenly, I feel like I can eat an entire buffet all by myself."

That made Joi laugh, breaking her strange mental inertia. "How about we go to Osteria Dell'orologioinstead?"

"What's it mean?"

Joi turned a wry smiled on Mia. "The Clock Tavern. Their food is passable for the real Italian deal and at least one genuine Italian does the cooking."

Mia's stomach growled loud enough for both to hear. "That makes it unanimous."

 **The Kennedy Center**

 **The Following Week**

The line moved, and finally Justin was at the door. He handed his invitation and plus-one ticket to the doorman. He stamped both the tickets and the back of their hands before letting them in.

Staring around at the organized chaos, Justin felt a small warm hand slid into his. "Is it too late to back out, auntie?"

"Yes, because I will _not_ allow you to leave," Wanda told him with a smile. "You aren't doing this for yourself. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm doing it for my dead husband. No need to keep reminding me."

Justin found the table to check in and pulled Wanda in that direction. He signed in, gave Wanda's name as his plus one, who would _not_ be allowed to watch the actual audition, and headed them toward the banquet spread out for their use. They filled their plates and found an empty table. To give them privacy, he went back for a glass of tea and a coffee, setting them at the two empty places to make it look like they were taken.

He'd only gotten enough food to keep his stomach from growling, and a pitcher of water for his dry throat. "I've never had stage fright before. It feels weird."

"Why should you be afraid, nephew? You have a beautiful voice."

"That's not all they look for. A charming stage presence, the ability to entice an audience to participate, other intangible qualities that go into making a star."

She chewed, swallowed and picked up her cup of tea. "Do not worry. You have all the qualities of a star and more." He didn't respond to her praise. "Have you chosen a song?"

"I have. It'll blow them away."

 **Hours Later**

A woman stepped into the hall holding a tablet. "One-fifty-two! You're up!"

Justin looked down at the number pinned to the front of his shirt. "That's me. Wish me luck, auntie."

Wanda gave him a tight hug. "You do not need luck. I _know_ you will do well, _moya lyubov_."

At the door, Justin showed the woman his ID and was passed through into the inner sanctum through which he'd seen many others disappear. There had to be another way out because few had come back to the waiting area.

He ran his hands through his hair and did a breath check. Minty fresh. Wanda had thought to bring toothbrush and toothpaste, bless her.

Inside the room, he was guided to the audition area and told where to stand. Three men and two women were seated at a skirted table with a stack of papers in front of them. One of the women didn't look like his ideal of someone who was "in the business". She was older, in her sixties, with short silver hair, an olive complexion, and dressed for a day out with the grandkids. Her gaze was incredibly intent.

The others were younger by at least twenty years and deferred to her as their leader. Sure enough, she was the first to speak. "My name in Monroe McKinney. To my left are Tommy Orwell, John Bryden, Denny Tessa, and Linus Wilburn. We all work behind the scenes in the music industry, recruiting and auditioning talent for this and several other similar shows."

Justin nodded a greeting without speaking. No one seemed to think it odd.

"Tell us why you're here today," Monroe stated without emotion.

He hadn't thought to prepare a speech and said the first thing that came to mind: the truth. "Fulfilling a last request to a dying friend."

The man introduced as Linus spoke for the first time. "Sounds like you don't want to be here." He tossed his pen on the table. "Your instincts were wrong this time, Monroe. Let's skip him and go onto the next."

"Not your choice, Linus." In her eyes, Justin could see Monroe sending him a message, but he couldn't quite catch it. "Young man, you have three minutes to prove you deserve this chance you were given." Monroe held up a stopwatch. "And… Go!"

 **TBC**


	139. Chapter 139

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 139**

Taking a deep breath, Justin went into the song he'd chosen to guarantee he wouldn't make the cut. With his obligation discharged, he and Wanda would stop for a consolatory milkshake at Big Burger on the way home.

 _Sunday is gloomy  
My hours are slumberless  
Dearest the shadows  
I live with are numberless_

The song was sad, speaking of a subject that left some devastated: the loss of a lover, and the desire to join that person in death.

 _Little white flowers  
Will never awaken you  
Not where the black coach  
Of sorrow has taken you_

 _Angels have no thoughts  
Of ever returning you  
Would they be angry  
If I thought of joining you_

He gave it little emotion, as if the words meant nothing to him though he was reminded of Sean with every syllable.

 _Gloomy Sunday_

 _Gloomy is Su-_

Monroe abruptly stood, a harsh frown darkening her features. "Stop."

Denny crossed her arms and rolled her overly made up Goth-like eyes that didn't match her bleached hair, or the fact that she was over forty. "Bor-ing! I vote to dismiss him. All in favor…"

The three men raised their hands. However, Monroe had something else in mind. "Chose another song, one-fifty-two. Something with a little more life to it."

Justin knew she hadn't meant it as a joke and didn't laugh. The others on the panel weren't so circumspect.

This was his chance to end it. "Sorry I didn't live up to your expectations, Ms. McKinney…" Before he could make his thanks but no thanks speech, Wanda's voice echoed inside his head.

 _You have disappointed me, nephew,_ _and_ _you are tarnishing Sean's good name with your actions_. From the beginning of their relationship, they'd called each other auntie and nephew with their tongues firmly in cheek. This time, her words had the strength of a reprimand an adult would give to a child, and it had the same effect. _Go back and do as they ask. This time, choose a song worthy of your incredible talent_.

The man called Tommy stood and gestured for the staff member who let him in. "He obviously doesn't have any real talent. Show one-fifty-two to the door."

"Wait!" Justin's entire attitude changed at Tommy's insult. He also couldn't bear the thought of the look of disappointment in Wanda's eyes that was so much like his mother's and Gramps'. His entire way of thinking did a one-eighty. Now, he wanted to do this for Wanda as much as for Sean and the rest of the family, and by _God_ , he'd knock their socks off! He faced them, all sense of doubt and uncertainty gone, replaced with self-confidence and just a touch of arrogance. Okay, maybe more than a touch. He was good and knew it. "You want another song, Ms. McKinney? You got it. Pick one. Any genre, any era from the 1920s forward."

Monroe gave him the tiniest self-satisfied smile and resumed her seat. Tommy, however, remained standing. To the staff member he said, "What're you waiting for? Get him out of here!"

The woman stopped in place when Monroe put her hand up and motioned her away. "Sit _down_ , Tommy. We have plenty of time. Let's see what he's got." She thought for a moment. "I saw the Brian Stokes Mitchell revival of _Man of La Mancha_ just last week. Let's hear 'The Impossible Dream'."

John, quiet until now, picked up the stopwatch, thumb poised to press the button. "When you're ready. Three minutes."

To Justin's surprise, and that of her colleagues, Monroe took the stopwatch from John and laid it on the table. "Take as long as you like. We're listening."

Justin hadn't performed "The Impossible Dream" in years, but he never forgot the words. They'd gotten him through several bad romantic relationships and fights with his siblings that nearly ended theirs. If you thought achieving a certain goal was impossible, then you've already doomed yourself to failure. But when you think of the word in a whole knew way, then success will come your way. After all, as they say, _nothing_ is impossible. The word itself says "I'm possible".

"I'll need someone to play the part of Dulcinea." Justin let all his inherent charm come to the fore. Giving Monroe a cheeky grin and a wink, he held out a hand. The woman's eyebrows twitched upward just enough that he could tell he'd surprised her as she laid her hand in his. "Shall we begin with the line where the lovely Dulcinea asks Don Quixote the meaning of his quest?"

Monroe came from behind the table and took her place to Justin's right with her arms crossed. "Quest? What does this mean? Quest?"

Justin stood tall and proud, deepening his voice. "It is a mission of each _true_ knight."

She scoffed and turned away.

"It is his _duty_. Nay, 'tis _privilege_." From there, Justin went into the song, beginning softly, and slowly building. Monroe played her part by listening intently as he described the travels and travails of a knight.

~~O~~

Unlike all that had gone before, Wanda could hear Justin singing, with her ears and inside her head. And she wasn't the only one. The few who remained moved toward the door, glasses and plates in their hands forgotten as Justin gave his all to the final verse of the song.

Hiding a smile behind her hand, she watched the others gather into groups. Some made fun of his choice, and others were stunned at his ability to hold that last note, considering the lung power necessary to allow them to hear it.

At the completion of the song, Justin had closed his mind to Wanda's gentle probing, making her believe that perhaps he hadn't been chosen. Keeping her head down over her cup of tea, she stirred mindlessly, waiting for security to ask her to leave as they had others.

As she brought the cup to her lips, she sensed a presence behind her, and looked up to see Justin slide into his chair. His mind still had the barrier up, and nothing in his expression gave away what he was feeling. "We could hear you at the end. It was beautiful. Too bad the judges did not care for it."

"What makes you think they didn't?" A smirk turned up the corners of his mouth as he held up the golden ticket given to the chosen few who made the cut. "Rehearsals start February 17th. Would you like to be my plus-one again?"

Wanda squealed with delight and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes! Oh, nephew, this is amazing!" Close to his ear, she whispered, "Shall I tell Pietro and let him tell the family?"

"Let's tell them in person."

They left the auditorium and made their way to the parking lot. Justin started the car, but before he could put it in gear, Wanda turned a warm smile on him. "Sean would be so proud."

He brought her hand to his lips. "At this moment, auntie, _you_ are the only person I care about pleasing. Thank you for giving me the incentive I needed to get the job done right."

"You are welcome, nephew."

Her mood was infectious, and Justin appeared giddy as well. "We should stop for something special to celebrate. What do you suggest?"

"Champagne!"

He mock-glared at her. "No. I meant a special dessert."

"Oh. Then no. Joi will make one. She will insist, I'm sure. After all, you _are_ her brother." Though he told her not to, Wanda sent a ping to Pietro, who then passed the news along to the rest of the family anxiously awaiting the results.

What neither of them knew was that Joi had been baking since morning, creating something special to memorialize the occasion while the rest of the family gathered at Bucky's to celebrate or commiserate, depending on the outcome. At home, Wanda knew they were rushing to get everything ready, and smiled to herself.

"Your girlfriend won't be upset that you'll be away?"

The question put a damper on Wanda's good mood. "We had an argument a few days ago and have not spoken since. I haven't looked into her mind, but she does not seem jealous or…"

Justin supplied the words she was looking for. "Controlling? Always has to be first in her significant other's life?"

She looked down at her lap and nodded. "Perhaps we will make up. But if we do not, such is life. Yes?"

"Yes. Just remember that someone has to be the bigger person and give in first. It doesn't have to be _you_ , but if she's too stubborn to admit she wants you back, step up. Not saying your situation is the same as Sean's, but similar rules apply. If you want her back, go for it. If not," Justin shrugged, "make sure she knows that too."

"I will think about what you've said."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

The family and a few close friends sat or stood around the living room listening to Justin and Wanda take turns telling the story of his audition and acceptance for "The Next American Star".

"… _I_ was more nervous than Justin. We had been sitting in that room for _hours_ when he was finally called."

Justin carried his drink over to sit at the piano, the only seat left besides the floor. "Didn't tell auntie, but I almost didn't make it."

Carolyn came to sit next to him. "Why not? They should've been honored you even showed up to audition for their pretentious, self-aggrandizing, over-hyped television show."

"They took exception to the song. A wannabe Goth girl said it was, and I quote, bor-ing."

From her seat next to Gramps, Natasha called out, "Oh, now you _have_ to tell us."

He chuckled sheepishly. "'Gloomy Sunday'." From the blank looks, most hadn't heard the song before. He flipped up the piano's cover to play and sing the first few lines. As with the judges, it was a big, fat failure. "Then," he raised a finger, "they not-so-politely requested that I do another. And, the hubristic jerk that I am, I had the lady in charge pick the song." His mom poked him in the ribs. Justin obeyed her unspoken command and went around to stand in front of the plasma screen.

Wanda bounced in her seat with excitement. "Justin is about to knock your _shoes_ off!"

The family laughed, but didn't correct her. To help with the visual, Justin scanned the group. "Alice, my love. Come and stand here, please." Not knowing what he was going for, she rushed to the spot he indicated. "You're going to be my beautiful Dulcinea." He winked.

Justin took his place, and cleared his throat, using that moment to create the same mindset he'd employed at the audition. As always, his mind and body became one with the music.

 _To dream the impossible dream,_

 _To fight the unbeatable foe,_

 _To bear with unbearable sorrow_

 _To run where the brave dare not go._

 _To right the unrightable wrong._

He placed both hands over his heart while gazing deep into Alice's eyes as Don Quixote would, telling Dulcinea with his actions that he was speaking of himself and the love he had for her.

 _To love, pure and chaste, from afar,_

 _To try, when your arms are too weary,_

 _To reach the unreachable star!_

Justin's voice swelled with emotion, and included gentle hand motions to emphasize Don Quixote's feelings.

 _This is my Quest to follow that star,_

 _No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,_

 _To fight for the right without question or pause,_

 _To be willing to march into hell_

 _For a heavenly cause!_

 _And I know, if I'll only be true_

 _To this glorious Quest,_

 _That my heart will lie peaceful and calm_

 _When I'm laid to my rest._

 _And the world will be better for this,_

 _That one man, scorned and covered with scars,_

 _Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,_

 _To reach the unreachable stars!_

As if playing to a packed theater that he was imploring to understand, Justin took a few steps toward his audience, eyes aimed over their heads, his mind already on the quest and where it would take him.

 _This is my Quest to follow that star,_

 _No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,_

 _To fight for the right_

 _Without question or pause,_

 _To be willing to march into hell_

 _For a heavenly cause!_

 _And I know, if I'll only be true_

 _To this glorious Quest,_

 _That my heart will lie peaceful and calm_

 _When I'm laid to my rest_.

Truly overcome by the emotions invoked by the lyrics, even believing them himself, he closed his eyes, his voice softening.

 _And the world will be better for this,_

 _That one man, scorned and covered with scars,_

Giving strength to the powerful words, Justin opened his eyes.

 _Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,_

He drew out the last word and cut it off sharply, building up to the big finale, giving the last line the full power of his impressive voice.

 _To reach_ … _the unreachable_ … _stars!_

The last note faded, followed by a moment of silence before Justin covered his head with both arms as the family threw their shoes at him, careful not to hit Alice. "Ha, ha, guys. You're freakin' _hilarious_." He caught the last shoe Chase threw at him. "Rehearsals begin February 17th at the studio in LA. We have to check in two days prior for orientation, to pick up IDs, schedules, mentor assignments, et cetera." Crossing his arms, he leaned against the piano, a dozen faces watching him expectantly. "They're providing room and board for myself and a guest, and once again, I've chosen," he held out a hand, and Wanda came forward to stand with him, "my favorite aunt, without whom this would be a real downer of a party."

In the back of the room, Rey sat in a comfortable chair that had been taken from the den. She smiled without it reaching her eyes. It didn't take a genius to know she expected to be the one who would provide support during the show.

"Not sure yet what the procedures are for getting tickets, if they'll be provided by the staff, or you'll have to pay for them yourselves, so I'll have to let you know."

~~O~~

Carolyn, Joi and Chase passed out cake while Steve, Sam and Mia took drink orders from everyone. Justin caught Rey's eye and nodded toward the back door. She set her cup and plate out of the way, and used the cane to stand as he excused himself.

Rey waited for him to open the door. He held her hand as she stepped down and closed the door behind them, immediately taking her in his arms. "Are you upset I'm taking Wanda?"

She laid her head on his chest. "Mmm, a little."

"You have a business to run, and everyone aside from Pietro and the girls has to work. Wanda can study anywhere as long as she has access to the internet."

He moved back so he could look into her eyes, relieved to see a genuine smile. "Still, it would've been nice to be asked. But you're right. By then, I should be able to take over the low impact classes. Plus, tax time is coming up." Rey led him to the new love seat Gramps and Nat had just bought for the deck. "I won't go all weepy and beg you to call me every night, as long as I get a text or email."

"Done." With his arm around her shoulders, Justin drew Rey close to his side. "It's a good thing we don't have to be there until after Valentine's Day because _I_ have a special evening planned for us."

"This will be our first as a couple."

"That's why it has to be special." They sat quietly, watching the stars twinkle in the sky above. "Just thought of something. Nat and Serenity are due to give birth at the beginning and end of March respectively. Depending on how it goes, I should be home by then. If not, I'll see about taking a few days off."

"They'd like that, and so would I."

What neither of them mentioned was the fact that their child would've been born around the same time. The day before, they'd agreed not to speak of it, at least for the time being. Justin kissed her temple. "Ready to go in?"

Rey snuggled closer. "Not yet. Let's just sit out here a while."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **February 15** **th**

Riding in the hotel's shuttle, Wanda watched Justin introduce himself to the other contestants and their plus-ones. Most of the women and a few of the men fell for his charm, laughing at his jokes, and hanging on every word as he regaled them with stories of his childhood. She was at least eighty percent certain that the stories were true. But with Justin, you never knew if he was telling the truth or lying through his teeth.

She grabbed the back of seat next to her as the driver took a turn too sharply. When they left home, the temperatures had been in the forties. Here in California, it was much warmer. She would only need her jacket at night, unless it rained. At Justin's urging, she also brought a bathing suit.

The shuttle jerked to a stop in front of a quaint old fashioned beach hotel. Between the buildings, she could see a wedge of blue-green water fronted by palm trees. An arrow directed visitors to the path.

Justin dropped into the seat next to her while the others swarmed out the front door before gathering their bags and following. Stepping into the sun, Wanda looked up at the blue sky, sniffing the air that was so different from home, and wrinkling her nose. "What is that _smell_?"

"Salt water." Justin pointed toward the beach. "We're right on the Pacific Ocean."

"Oh. I have never been to a beach before." She hitched the bag on her right shoulder higher. "Until just this week, I have never even owned a bathing suit. Mother took me shopping."

They went in through the revolving door and joined the others in line to check in. The furniture, tile floors and wallpaper in shades of pale orange, yellow, blue, and green, and tile yellowed with age made them feel as if they'd stepped back in time. Wanda was reminded of an old hotel that she and Pietro had once visited with their parents in Budapest.

"Use a high SPF sun block and you shouldn't get sunburned. We'll go together the first couple of times." He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "Do you know how to swim?"

By the standards of the rest of the family, Wanda often felt naïve and unsophisticated. She looked at the floor and shook her head. "I do not. Neither does Pietro."

"Well, auntie, you're going to learn while we're here." The line moved quickly and soon it was their turn. "Justin Lockwood and guest."

The young man behind the desk smiled blandly, as if he'd been doing it all day and his face was tired. "Welcome to the Sudbury Court Inn, Mr. Lockwood. You and your wife have been assigned to room 1408. It has a king bed, a small sitting room and a partial beach view."

Wanda hid a smile behind her hand, but Justin didn't bother. He laughed out loud. "She's not my wife _or_ my girlfriend. She's my aunt."

"Oh, uh, I see." he cleared his throat while tapping at the computer. "The hotel is nearly full. All we have left is one king, one double, two twins, and a room with two doubles."

An older man, balding, with glasses and obviously in charge, stepped into the conversation, saying sharply, "No! I've told you before, Brad," he glanced at the two of them and away, an unreadable expression on his face, "that room is unavailable." He addressed Justin, with the occasional eye twitch in Wanda's direction. "Are you certain the king won't suit you?"

Justin leaned his elbow on the counter. "Again, she's not my wife, girlfriend, sister or daughter. She's my aunt. We _can't_ sleep in the same bed."

"What is wrong with this other room, the one you do not wish to use?" Wanda asked, intrigued by the man's reaction. His eyes darted from her to Justin and back several times. A quick ping told her he was scared, but not why. She sent a message to Justin.

Reaching out to tug lightly on the man's lapels, Justin gave off a mental whiff of humor. "Well," he looked at his name tag, " _William_ ," he made the name sound like a curse, "my aunt and I will take the room. As long as it's clean, has two beds, and the bathroom works, we're good."

William opened and closed his mouth a few time, snapped it shut and cleared his throat. "I-if you insist, Mr. Lockwood."

"We _do_."

With a few more keystrokes, Brad had them checked in. He took two old fashioned keys with tags from the mailboxes behind him, and slid them across the desk. "Room 2104." After one last glance at William for approval, Brad handed him what looked like two business cards. "This room comes with complimentary dinner for two and use of the exercise room every night of your stay. Just show these to the hostess in the casual dining room and the attendant in the gym. A-and enjoy your, um, stay."

Immense satisfaction touched her mind, a gentle poke from Justin. "I'm sure we will."

"And if there's anything you need, anything at all, just ask," were William's parting words as they headed for the elevators.

~~O~~

They didn't speak again until they got off the elevator on the top floor. Their room was at the end of the hall facing the beach. Justin unlocked the door, pushed it open and stood aside. "Ladies first."

He came in behind Wanda, who stood in the middle of the room, staring at the décor, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Not one to complain about the accommodations, Justin set his bags off to one side and turned in a circle.

Few renovations had been done to this room nearly thirty years. The bedding was newish, as was the paint on the wall and the carpeting, though to Justin's trained eye, the work had been done in a hurry, as if the contractor had wanted to finish as quickly as possible and get out.

Unlike most hotels or motels, the beds were not side by side. They were at right angles to each other, near windows, with plenty of room to move between them. The sitting area had two armchairs, a love seat, a coffee table and a smaller table between the chairs with a tarnished brass lamp and silk flowers in a wicker basket.

Instinctively, Justin chose the bed closest to the door, taking a seat and bouncing to test the mattress. "Not nearly as bad as I thought."

Wanda did the same with the other bed, flopping onto her back. "I do not understand why they were reluctant to rent this room." She went to the patio doors, and Justin joined her. The sun was midway in the sky, on the way down, leaving smudges of bright yellow smeared over the water. This high up, the water appeared to extend to the edge of the earth where one would find a sudden drop-off into another universe.

"Orientation's after dinner in the banquet hall. What would you like to do first, auntie? They have a pool, indoor and patio bars, a formal and a casual dining room, and a gym. Or we could take a walk along the beach, being as this is your first."

Her face lit up. "Yes! Let's do that."

Justin motioned for her to go ahead of him and followed her out. "We'll stop in the gift shop to get you a pair of flip-flops, so you blend in."

~~O~~

They came out of the gift shop, Justin carrying a bag. Wanda held up the odd-looking sandals. "Why to they call them flip-flops?"

Justin drew her to one of the lobby sofas. "Take off your shoes and socks." She did as he said, tucking the socks into her sneakers while he did the same. They put the sandals on and stood. "How do they feel?"

Wanda took several steps away and back. "They feel strange."

"You'll get used to them." He put their shoes and socks in the bag and had the desk clerk hold it for them while they went for their walk. "Let's stroll down the street first."

"You still have not explained their name."

Her nephew got that twinkle in his eyes that usually meant he was about to say or do something to make her laugh. "It'll become clear in a few minutes. Let's walk."

With every step, the sandals made a slapping sound on the bottom of her feet, and she got it. "Ah. Flip-flop is the sound they make as you walk. That is quite clever."

"Knew you'd get it. I suggest you take them off to walk in the sand."

"Do I want to know why?"

Again, Justin grinned. "You can see for yourself, or I can tell you. Either way."

"Never mind. I will do as you s…" As they came around the side of the hotel, the expanse of the beach opened before them, giving Wanda a panoramic view of sun, sand, sea and palm trees. The water ripple with the light breeze coming off the water. The sun was closer to the horizon now, bigger and brighter than before. "Oh! It's beautiful!"

He draped his arm over her shoulders. "Wait'll you see it at night when there are bonfires all up and down the beach. Stars as far as the eye can see and the moon reflection off the dark water."

Anticipating the beauty he described, Wanda leaned against Justin and sighed.

 **After Midnight**

"What do you think, my dear?" the man said to the woman with her gloved hand wrapped lightly around his left bicep.

Tilting her head to one side, she looked over the two people sleeping peacefully in their beds. "Don't care for long hair on a man, but he's rather attractive otherwise."

"And the girl?"

The woman glided across the floor to the other bed, leaning down to see the girl's face better. "I think she might be the one who can help us. We just have to get her attention."

The man huffed and patted his pockets, finding them empty. "Damn! I haven't had a smoke since the forties." He gave up and sauntered over to was at her side in the blink of an eye.

"You should be over the need to smoke by now then."

All she got for her remark was a scoff.

Suddenly, the young woman sat up, eyes darting around the room. She pushed the covers off and stood. "Is someone there?"

Now standing near the bathroom, the man and woman watched the girl as she moved through the room, coming to a stop, her eyes looking right at them. Stunned, the man put his arm protectively around the woman's shoulders, backing up when the girl reached out. "I know you're there. Who are you?"

 **TBC**

"Gloomy Sunday", also known as the "Hungarian Suicide Song", is a popular song composed by Hungarian pianist and composer Rezső Seress and published in 1933.

The original lyrics were titled _Vége a világnak_ ( _The world is ending_ ) and were about despair caused by war, ending in a quiet prayer about people's sins. Poet László Jávor wrote his own lyrics to the song, titled _Szomorú vasárnap_ ( _Sad Sunday_ ), in which the protagonist wants to commit suicide following his lover's death. The latter lyrics ended up becoming more popular while the former were essentially forgotten. The song was first recorded in Hungarian by Pál Kalmár in 1935.

"Gloomy Sunday" was first recorded in English by Hal Kemp in 1936, with lyrics by Sam M. Lewis, and was recorded the same year by Paul Robeson, with lyrics by Desmond Carter. It became well-known throughout much of the English-speaking world after the release of a version by Billie Holiday in 1941. Lewis's lyrics referred to suicide, and the record label described it as the "Hungarian Suicide Song". There is a recurring urban legend which claims that many people have committed suicide while listening to this song. However, these claims are unsubstantiated.

"The Impossible Dream (The Quest)" is a popular song composed by Mitch Leigh, with lyrics written by Joe Darion. It is the most popular song from the 1965 Broadway musical _Man of La Mancha_ and is also featured in the 1972 film of the same name starring Peter O'Toole.

The complete song is first sung by Don Quixote as he stands vigil over his armor, in response to Dulcinea's question about what he means by "following the quest". It is reprised partially three more times – the last by prisoners in a dungeon as Miguel de Cervantes and his manservant mount the drawbridge-like prison staircase to face trial by the Spanish Inquisition.


	140. Chapter 140

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 140**

Leaning close, the woman whispered, "Do you _really_ think she can see us?"

The young woman's hand dropped to her side. "I cannot see you, but I know you're there. I can hear you, inside my mind."

"Wanda, who are you talking to?"

In all the years Evangeline and Kingston had been walking the halls of the hotel, few had noticed them. Not that they wanted to be noticed most of the time. Until now, they thought it would be the cat's meow to have a mortal friend. Equally softly, Kingston whispered back, "We should go, darling."

"No arguments from me."

"That would be a refreshing change, my dear," he riposted in the time-honored tradition of their acquaintance. In less than the blink of an eye, they were gone.

~~O~~

The dual presence that had awakened Wanda vanished. She blinked in the dark as Justin's footsteps padded over the carpet to her side.

"Wanda, who are you talking to?"

Until she knew more about what was going on, Wanda decided to keep the true nature of her encounter a secret. "No one, nephew. I got up use the bathroom. Go back to bed."

The look on his face said he didn't believe her but did as she asked anyway. She knew he would bring the subject up at another time.

Once Justin was back in bed, she went into the bathroom, closed the door with a soft click, and sat there in the dark, contemplating the event that woke her. Two minds pleading for help, and a third that had a more sinister aspect. She let her abilities do what she called a fuzzy search, and found the other presence centered in the boiler room in the basement.

Something dreadful had happened there, and she needed to know what it was before she could help the two souls that had been in their room as well as the one from the basement. While Justin was at the studio, she would do research on the hotel. Or she could ask Natasha to track down disturbing events that had happened within the hotel. Going to the staff would be futile. The emotions she sensed from William and Brad were that they would likely respond to her inquiries with a lie.

Wanda sent a psionic plea out to her visitors. _I_ _will_ _help you, but I cannot do so without rest. My nephew also must have undisturbed sleep due to his involvement in a competition. Please refrain from disrupting our sleep while we're here_.

There was no response, nor did she expect one. Taking their silence for agreement, Wanda used the bathroom, washed and dried her hands, went back to bed, and instantly fell asleep.

~~O~~

Once the occupants of the room had gone back to sleep, Evangeline and Kingston stuck their heads through the closet door. They looked at Wanda, at each other, and went out into the hallway.

"Has that ever happened before, darling?" Kingston asked as they floated two feet off the floor.

Having regained her good humor, Evangeline drew her perfectly shaped eyebrows together in thought. "Once, before you died. This strange woman checked into the room. I found her condescending, patronizing and more annoying than prohibition. She used the most _ridiculous_ methods in an attempt to rid the hotel of my spirit." A man and women got off the elevator, turned away from them and went into the room at the end of the hall. "Started with negotiating." Evangeline waved her hands dramatically. " _How_ do you negotiate with a spirit?"

"I'd say that it would be a one-sided conversation. The woman had to be a fraud."

"And you would be right." Together, they sank through the floor, coming out in the hotel's empty lobby. "Holy water came next, or that's what she called it. All it accomplished was to get everything wet. The next step was… Ah! Haunted object removal. As I was haunting the hotel and room 2104 specifically, that went nowhere fairly quickly. Spiritual cleansing didn't work either. I was never a spiritual person when I was alive, and certainly wasn't after I died."

Kingston waited until Evangeline had seated herself on the sofa to make himself comfortable next to her. "It all sounds rather irritating."

"Oh, it was. However, that was just the beginning. She did something called smudging, which apparently entails burning spices and waving the smoke around the room commanding the spirit to depart!" Evangeline waved an invisible torch in the air. "The same with white candle clearing."

He patted her knee. "You poor dear. How did you stand it?"

She rolled her eyes, crossed her knees and held onto the top one with her fingers interlaced. "I nearly didn't. If I could've left the premises, I would've just so she would end the infernal chanting."

He unbuttoned his jacket, crossed his knees and put an arm along the back of the sofa behind her. "You have a stronger mind than I, my dear. I'd've gone mad."

"I nearly did when she rearranged the furniture." Grinning, a dimple showing in her right cheek, Evangeline lifted her chin proudly. "By the time she returned with the owner, I'd put it all back. She was quite angry. I followed her and the owner to his suite in order to hear what she would say. There, she made her final proposal, which she guaranteed would rid the premises of my spirit: to pour rice around the outside of the building close to the foundation, followed by kosher sea salt spread throughout the interior. Coleman was so angered by her suggestion _and_ by her inability to convince me to move on that he paid her outrageous fee just to get rid of her. After that, I was a bit more circumspect in how I amused myself."

Taking her hand in his, Kingston brought it to his lips. "And then I came along. If it wasn't for the gas leak, we never would've met, and I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your company all these decades, my dear."

Placing her palm against his cheek, Evangeline rested her head against his. "You say the sweetest things, darling."

"Only because I am sincere in my affections."

 **Morning**

Standing in the lobby of the hotel, Wanda and Justin watched the rest of the contestants filling the shuttles parked in front. "I should be back in time for dinner."

"If you are not, I will be fine on my own." She presented her cheek for a kiss. "I know you will… break a leg today. Is that the correct idiom?"

"It is. You are rockin' being an American, auntie." He waved and ran to catch the last shuttle.

She knew he preferred to be the driver or to ride with someone he knew, and she didn't blame him after what happened before she and Pietro became part of the family. Chewing her lower lip, Wanda planned her day. Once she'd done research into the hotel's past, she had to get the spirits to speak to her. Last night, they'd run off when Justin woke up. Perhaps today she could have a real conversation with them.

Brad wasn't at the front desk this morning, for which she was glad. She wouldn't have to endure his wariness when they spoke, simply because she and Justin insisted on a room that turned out to be haunted.

With a smile, Wanda approached the young woman who'd taken Brad's place. "Excuse me. Does the hotel offer wi-fi?"

The girl smiled brightly. "We do. There is a surcharge of twenty-five dollars a day that is automatically charged to your room when you log on."

Wanda wanted to ask the girl if she was out of her mind but refrained. It wouldn't do to anger the staff. Instead, she smiled. "I will keep that in mind. Tell me is there a coffee shop nearby? I have never been to California and wish to have a look around while my nephew is away."

"Sure. Go out to the main street, turn left, and it's less than a mile on the left, right on the beach. I can have one of the bell staff take you."

"That won't be necessary. I will enjoy the walk. Thank you." Wanda returned to her room, grabbed her laptop bag, a sweater in case it was cold in the shop, and shoved her wallet into the side of the bag.

Outside, it was sunny, warm, and windy. She went back inside to the gift shop where she purchased a tube of sunblock and a floppy brimmed hat. In the ladies' room, she used the mirror to apply the cream to her face, upper chest, arms and the back of her neck. Coiling her hair into a rope, she held it on top of her head and pulled the hat on over it.

As she stepped into the sun, Wanda slipped on the sunglasses she bought, hitched her bag up on her shoulder and headed for the coffee shop.

California Brew was open-air with tables inside. The sweater would not be necessary. She ordered a frozen coffee drink and carried it to a table near a window that looked out onto the beach as promised.

She took out her laptop, opened it, and logged in. While she waited for it to boot up, she sipped her drink and watched the people go by. Life here was so different from Virginia, more laid-back. At home, everyone seemed to be in a hurry to be somewhere other than where they were. Few were content with the life they'd obviously chosen for themselves. It was something she never understood.

The computer beeped, she logged into the free wi-fi, opened a browser page, and typed in the name of the hotel. The first record was a history of ownership and some of the famous people who had stayed within its walls. In the first half of the last century, it was a hot party spot for celebrities, always in high demand. The famous as well as the infamous stayed there, partying until all hours, sometimes for days.

What Wanda needed was a list of deaths at the hotel. She typed in the words, her finger hovering over the enter key. Resolved to figure this out, she hit the button. Within seconds, a short list appeared. Most had died of natural causes or accidents. A few due to suicide, as well as those who had been killed.

Of these, there were only a few that were considered famous or even infamous. If she was going to help them, she had to know their names and background, and there they were. Of all the people who had died within the walls of the hotel, two had perished in the room she now occupied with Justin: 2104. As for the presence in the basement, discovering his identity was simple. Like the others, his was the only death in the boiler room.

Going to the counter, she asked the cashier, "Where might I go to have something printed from my computer?"

The young man smiled and pointed to a sign. "We now offer printing services." He led her to a table in the corner on which sat a small printer. "Just hook up to this," he indicated the connector, "and print normally. The driver is automatically uploaded each time you use it and disabled again once you disconnect, so no worries about viruses and stuff."

"Thank you." Wanda went back to her table, gathered her belongings and went to print out the profiles. Having paper in her hands made it easier to see the photos and profiles of the deceased. She stacked the pages in the side pocket of her bag and returned to the table to work on school projects.

 **Hours Later**

A shadow fell over Wanda as she rapidly typed the last paragraph of her history paper. Annoyed, she looked up at an older man wearing an apron and a tag that indicated he was the manager.

"Sorry to bother you, but if you're going to stay here, you have to buy something."

Wanda held up the empty cup. "I have already done so."

He looked pained, as if this were one aspect of his job he disliked. "That was four hours ago. The wi-fi is free, but it's for customers only. You still gotta buy something, if you want to stay."

With more still to do on the history paper, if she stopped to go find another place where the wi-fi was free, it wouldn't be turned in on time. She created a thin stream of psionic energy and flicked it at the side of his head. His features relaxed into a welcoming smile. "How can I help you?"

"I'm hungry and this is my first time in California. What do you suggest?"

"Fish tacos are a must before you go home. There's also a fantastic Korean barbecue just up the street."

Shaking her head, Wanda gave him another short burst. "I would like seafood."

This time, his entire face lit up. "I know just the place, and it's not far."

"I don't feel like leaving just yet. Go there and bring me a fish and shrimp combination for the meal, no pasta or anything blackened. There is something else I heard about, lobster spinach dip with garlic bread. That should be enough for now." She held up her cup. "And another of these frozen coffee drinks."

As if it were his own idea, the manager removed his apron, laid it on the table as he walked out the front door and got into his car without another word. After he'd gone, Wanda quickly completed her assignment and submitted it for grading.

The manager returned thirty minutes later, set the bag on the table and removed the contents. Wanda moved her laptop to one side, and the manager placed the food containers in front of her. She thanked him with a smile and opened the disposable silverware. The cashier brought her another drink and left her alone to eat and work in peace.

 **The Next American Star Studio**

Following a quick pep talk from one of the producers, the contestants had been broken up into groups who were then assigned to a mentor. Justin and his team were put with a man who went by the name Jose Mateo and professed to be a famous singer, dancer and choreographer from Caracas, Venezuela. Within five minutes, Justin had copped to the fact that Jose had never been south of Laredo, Texas, and had learned Spanish from speaking it at home with his family. Oh, he'd passed Justin's tests of the language, syntax, grammar, and so forth. However, his accent was strictly Mexican-American. One of the perks of the Black Widow being married to his grandfather. And perhaps a little of the Winter soldier.

The other members of the group were Sloan Boyer, Amara Orson, Kimberly Stout, Morgan Hasselback, and Gus Romano, a mixed bag of wannabe sexy, odd-looking, cute, handsome, and stunning.

"Let's get to know each other before we get down to business. Say your name and something about yourself." Jose's eye landed on Justin. "Start with you."

Keeping his features bland, he relaxed in his seat. "My name is Justin. I'll be thirty in March."

The group waited for him to continue, but he just looked at them. Jose adjusted his seat. "We're looking for a little more than that, Justin. What do you do? Besides music, do you have any other hobbies?"

Seeing an opportunity to poke fun at their mentor, Justin smiled wistfully. "I'm a contractor, and a dad. I like reading romantic fiction, long walks on the beach at sunset, and tormenting my fraternal twin."

As he hoped, his teammates chuckled, breaking some of the tension. The girl sitting to his right on the other side of Jose asked, "Is your child a boy or girl?"

"Boy. His name's Dexter and he's two months old."

The girls sighed happily, the same one saying, "Aw! How sweet! Does your wife have help while you're gone?"

"I'm not married." Each question brought another weird facial expression. "His mother died just after he was born."

Again, those sad sighs. Another girl picked up the line of questioning, an odd sort of good cop, bad cop. "Who's taking care of him while you're here?"

"My uncle. He lives with my grandparents." The confusion on their faces filled him with glee as the next victim took her turn.

"You've led an interesting life, Justin." She tossed her long dark braid over her shoulder, blinked her heavily made up eyes and showed her enormous front teeth in a perky smile while crossing her knees to draw attention to her shapely ankles and the fact that she was wearing spiked heels. "Sloan Boyer. Single, a hairdresser and nail artist by day, and a singer with a local band at night. Live with my mom for now."

To the uninitiated, Sloan had the speaking voice of the upper middle class. Again, underneath, Justin heard the truth. His best guess was Leroy Brown territory.

Jose's smile was forced. "Sounds like an interesting life, Sloan. On to the next one."

The guy had shaggy dark hair covered by a floppy-brimmed hat, and wore jeans, white tank top with dark blue trim, dark sunglasses, a soul patch on his chin and was a little shorter than Justin. "Gus Romano. I'm probably the oldest one here. Just turned thirty-eight in January. Married, no kids, three cats and two dogs. Always enjoyed singing, and my wife encouraged me to try out when the show first came through town."

"Glad you could join us, Gus." Jose pointed to the girl with short natural blonde hair. Her smile was tentative, eyes darting around the room as if she suspected she'd been followed. Justin could see that she was super shy, yet still willing to do the job.

"Um, I'm Amara Orson." Her accent put her home as somewhere in the Midwest. She barely weighed a hundred pounds, had green eyes, a few freckles, and was dressed to go unnoticed. "My mom sorta made me tryout. She thinks I'm gonna be a star and make lots of money so she can stop workin'." One shoulder shrugged in apology. "I didn't want her to come cuz she makes me nervous, but she did anyw-"

Justin and Jose's eyes met. They were thinking the same thing: Mrs. Orson would be the stage mother from hell.

The next up was an African-American man in his early thirties who spoke over Amara. "Morgan Hasselback. Financial advisor for Temple and Fletcher, out of the Seattle office. My only hobby is music. If I'm not singing, I'm playing guitar, writing songs, and setting up gigs for the weekends. I've won every contest I've ever entered."

His arrogance filled the room, making Justin want to gag. He was tall, muscular, and overly proud of his physique according to the skin-tight shirt that molded over his muscles. His hair was shaved close to the scalp, he had a mouth full of veneered teeth and silver-framed glasses with a yellow tint.

To take the attention from Morgan and put it elsewhere, Justin pointed to the dark-skinned woman sitting next to him. "That makes you Kimberly." He reached in front of Jose, purposely invading his personal space. "Welcome to the team."

Unlike the others, Kimberly's smile was genuine, not overly done. Her teeth showed, but only enough to let people know she was happy to be here. Her shoulder length hair in tight spirals bounced as she turned her head. "Thanks, Justin. I wish my backstory was as interesting as everyone else's."

"Please, do tell us," Jose said with an attempt to inject charm into his voice. "We're quite interested."

Using just her eyes, Kimberly let Justin know she was grateful for his intervention. "Only child of a single mom, so I know where you're coming from, being a single dad, Justin. Mom worked three jobs and had to take me with her when I wasn't in school because she couldn't afford a babysitter. As soon as I was old enough, I got a job cashiering at a bakery for an older married couple who'd come over from Germany as newlyweds. They took me under their wings and taught me everything they knew about the business. When they retired, I took over the store. Like the rest of you, my true passion is music. In fact, it was Mr. and Mrs. Dietrich who encouraged me to enter local contests. Without them, I wouldn't be here today."

Justin wasn't the only one to notice a lack in her story. "What about your mom?"

Kimberly's smile faded and she looked down at her lap. "She died when I was sixteen. Heart attack while scrubbing some rich guy's kitchen floor. Franz and Ilsa became my foster parents." She sniffed and looked up. "This is for Mom as much as the Dietrichs and me. Even if I don't win, I know they'd be proud of the person I've become."

Again, Justin reached over to give her hand a comforting squeeze. Where the others couldn't see, he glared at Jose for keeping his mouth shut. "I'm sure they are."

Once again taking control, Jose stood and clapped his hands. "Now that we know each other, I'm going to do _uno a uno_ , beginning with Amara. Everyone else, wait in the dining area at the end of the hall until you're called."

Justin held the door for the others, thinking it was going to be a long day, and the first of many. _How did I get myself into this? Should've offered to have all-night sex with Sean instead._

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Midway through her Tai Chi routine, Natasha felt an odd twinge. She breathed through it and picked up where she left off. At the end, she returned to the start position, hands folded and head bowed. She took one last deep breath, which ended on a gasp.

Natasha let herself in the back door, holding onto the wall as she carefully made her way to the living room. "James! Pietro!"

Her son was beside her in an instant, letting her down on the sofa just as Bucky came running down the stairs. "What's going on? Is it time?"

Reaching out, she urged both men to sit beside her, giving them each a sweet smile, and laying their hands on her enormous belly. "The baby's kicking."

Before, Pietro had been wary about touching her in what he deemed an intimate manner. He'd gotten over that in a hurry the first time she let him feel the baby kicking. The smile on both their faces brought tears to her eyes. She moved their hands to the upper curve of her belly, side by side, and Esme obliged by kicking with both feet. At least it felt that way.

They tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let them. "Stay. She likes showing off, and I'm hoping to tire her out, so I can get some sleep tonight."

Bucky laughed and kissed her on the lips. He pulled back when Pietro cleared his throat. "Good luck with that. It's been done by mothers since the beginning of time. Didn't work then and I doubt it will work now."

Groaning, Natasha pushed their hands away to stand and not doing a good job of it. "Aside from not sleeping, every time she kicks, I have to pee." She sagged onto the cushions. "Don't just sit there! Help me up!"

Faster than she could register, Pietro had her in the bathroom with the door closed.

~~O~~

Hours later, though it had only been dark a short while, Natasha dozed while Bucky sat on the sofa with his laptop, going over the plans for the new exhibit and making his own recommendations. He rushed to answer the knock on the front door, surprised to see Carolyn standing on the stoop.

Keeping his voice low, he motioned her inside and closed the door with a soft click. As they passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, she stared at Natasha asleep in the recliner with Pietro sitting beside her, his hand on her stomach.

In the kitchen, he offered her a cup of coffee, and poured one for each of them. They took seats at the counter, sipping quietly. Bucky waited for his daughter to provide a reason for coming by unexpectedly, and when she didn't he forged ahead. "Is something wrong, baby girl?"

"I was on my way to stay with Serenity and Collin tonight, so he could get some rest." She sipped the coffee and returned the mug to the counter. "The doctor's admitting her tomorrow. He may need to do a C-section to deliver the twins early." Her wry smile gave him hope that all three would be okay. "Apparently, it's getting crowded in there."

"If I recall, the same thing happened with the boys."

Carolyn's smiled widened. "At least they were born naturally. The doctor said he would attempt inducing first, but after the scare we had, they might not risk it."

He held his daughter's hand. "Keep us in the loop. Natasha tires easily now, so we'll likely just hang around the house working on the nursery."

"Thought the baby would sleep in with you the first couple of months."

"She will. But while I'm at work, I don't expect them to stay in the room all day. Wanda's in California with Justin, and Pietro's staying close to home to help out." He looked down at his cup, turning it side to side. "Wanda's girlfriend came by the other night. I think they had a fight because she had no idea Wanda was out of town."

She finished off the coffee and stood. Bucky joined her. "That's too bad," was her only comment, leading him to think she hadn't really heard. He didn't blame her. It had been the same with Connie while Carolyn was pregnant with Joi and ran into problems. "I have to go. Just wanted to check on Natasha before going to Serenity's."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks. Call me."

The door had barely closed when Bucky suddenly found himself sitting in the chair formerly occupied by Pietro, his hand on Natasha's stomach. Pietro raised a finger to his lips for quiet and was gone. Bucky wondered what was up. Then, his exceptional hearing picked up movement in the kitchen that indicated his son was making dinner. _No big deal. I can work with one hand_.

Huffing, Bucky realized his laptop was out of reach, and he didn't dare remove his hand. Reaching around to his back pocket, he pulled out his phone to send Pietro a text. Within seconds, he had a small folding table and his laptop in front of him. At the dining room entrance, Pietro turned back, giving him a cheeky grin before disappearing.

~~O~~

Slowly coming awake, Natasha felt a hand idly rubbing her stomach and heard the tap-tap-tap of computer keys close by. Opening her eyes just a crack, she smiled with affection at her husband working one-handed while using the other to keep Esme quiescent. It was such a sweet scene, she eased her phone from the side pocket of her maternity dress and snapped a quick photo.

Afterwards, she reached out to play with Bucky's hair to get his attention. He jumped and screamed like a little girl, making her laugh. "It's just me, husband."

Relieved, he leaned in for a kiss before helping her up. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but I have to pee again." She waddled toward the bathroom. "Something smells good."

"Pietro's making dinner. Holler if you need help."

Natasha waved as she made tracks to the bathroom, barely getting the door closed before pulling down her panties and taking a seat. She sighed with pleasure while rubbing her stomach. "You are absolutely worth all the trouble you're putting me through, _angel moy_." A hard kick hit her on the right side. Natasha pressed on it, soothing her daughter. "It'll all be over soon, my little miracle. I just hope this great big world is all you hope it will be. Mama, Daddy, your family, and our friends have done the best they can to keep everyone safe, and maybe one day, you'll do the same. But don't tell your father. He wants you to be something boring like a doctor or an accountant." Esme kicked again. A small one. "Yeah, I don't like the idea either, but we have years to change his mind, don't we?"

She heaved herself off the toilet, grabbed her panties before they could slide to the floor and pulled them up with a sigh. "I'll be glad when I can see my feet again."

 **Dinner Time**

Using his super speed, Pietro set the table and went back to the kitchen to check on the food. He brought the teapot and cups at the same time Bucky came in with Natasha. He held her chair and seated himself.

While Bucky poured the tea, Pietro returned to the kitchen and was back in seconds with the food, angel hair vegetable and meatball primavera and caprese avocado salad.

Taking her napkin from under the silverware, Natasha draped it over her belly. "It looks delicious, my son. I hope I can do it justice."

Pietro seated himself to her right. "I will not be insulted if you can only eat a little. If it is not to your liking, I can make something else."

"That won't be necessary." She cut a meatball in half and speared it with her fork, along with some of the pasta and ate it. "Mmm. Perfect!"

"Really?" Holding his head up proudly, Pietro shared a smile with Bucky. "It is the first time I have made the meatballs myself." Bucky was chewing, but didn't seem to be listening. "Father?"

He looked up. "Hmm? Oh, sorry. Just thinking. This is great, by the way."

For the rest of the meal, the conversation flowed easily, never straying into subjects that might cause indigestion.

While Bucky cleared the table, Pietro helped Natasha to the sofa, gave her the remote so she could watch a movie, and returned to the kitchen.

Bucky took out his phone to show Pietro the text he'd gotten from Carolyn during dinner, putting a finger to his lips. Pietro understood his meaning: don't say anything to upset Natasha.

 _Serenity's at the hospital. Her BP is dangerously high, putting the babies in distress. The doctor will be doing the C-section tonight instead of tomorrow. Will keep you apprised_.

 **TBC**


	141. Chapter 141

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 141**

Once they'd boarded the shuttle back to the hotel, Amara took a seat away from the others, staring out the window. Justin had heard Jose being short with her, making demands that weren't unreasonable for a normal person. However, Amara was different. She wasn't here by choice, not really. She'd been forced into it by her mother. He knew she was doing the best she could under the circumstances. Amara needed a gentle hand to show her the way. How Jose got to his position without understanding the honey/vinegar correlation stumped Justin.

Without invitation, he slid into the seat next to Amara, bumping her with his shoulder and giving off a big brother vibe. "Jose's diva attitude will get him in trouble one of these days." She twitched her shoulders, but didn't speak. "I know it's not going to be easy, but you really need to learn to stand up for yourself."

Amara finally did look at him and away. "I _try_ , but Mom just goes ahead and does what she wants. Says _she_ knows what's best." She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Between you 'n me, it's why Daddy left. Mom didn't want me to have anything to do with him after the divorce, but we've been emailing back and forth anyway. Wants me to meet him for lunch or dinner, but I can't without Mom knowing."

Justin brightened. "See? You _can_ do it. As my step-grams says, 'everyone needs practice'." He bumped her again. "Have dinner with me and my aunt tonight."

"What about Mom? She won't even teach me to drive. That way, she knows where I am all the time."

He gave her a sly wink. " _I'll_ take care of Mom _and_ paying for dinner. All _you_ have to do is show up."

From her expression, he thought she'd decline the invitation. Then, she smiled, and it changed everything, made her shine. "Okay."

"Great." The shuttle pulled to a stop behind the others. Their companions stampeded for the exit, and when they were alone again, Justin got up to let her out, handing over the bag she'd placed on the floor. "Eight in the casual dining room."

They got off the shuttle and it pulled away. "I'll be there." Amara's smile turned to a frown. "There she is."

She took off, and Justin assumed it was so her mother wouldn't see them talking. He lagged behind, keeping his distance. In the lobby, he found Wanda sitting in a corner with a magazine, talking to herself. Sliding into the chair next to her, he whispered, "Most people don't start talking to themselves until they're much older. But with this family, anything's possible."

Wanda looked apologetic while continuing to stare at the empty sofa. "Please forgive him. My nephew did not mean to interrupt… Of course. We will talk more before I go to bed." Her eyes tracked across the lobby to the hallway that went to the elevators, vending machines and staff only area. "How was your day, nephew?"

"Long, auntie. Yours?"

Turning her head to check that they were alone, she motioned him closer. "The hotel is being haunted by three spirits. I was talking to two of them just now."

Taken aback, Justin blinked a few times. "Um, what?"

~~O~~

Keeping her features neutral, Wanda stated again, "There are three spirits haunting the hotel. The ones to whom I was speaking died in our room at separate times many years ago." She pulled the printed pages from her laptop bag, handing him the first one. "Evangeline Selfridge. She was an actress who died in 1938 during a party given by a director who had won his first Academy Award that day." He took the second page. "This is Kingston George Bennett." Wanda grinned wryly. "In 1943, he was a rich playboy in the midst of a scandal involving several married women with whom he'd been having affairs when he died due to a gas leak in the room. Their haunting doesn't amount to much more than playing the occasional harmless prank on the guests and staff, most notably, in our room."

Justin opened and closed his mouth a few times, cleared his throat, and seemed to accept her story. "You said three."

A sliver of dread made her shiver as if ice had gone down her back. "His name is Basil Bernard 'Big Bad' Dalton." She passed over the last page. "As you can see, he was _not_ a nice man. The police would say that he has a record as long as your arm, including, but not limited to assault with a deadly weapon, witness intimidation, gunrunning, racketeering, running an illegal gambling establishment, bootlegging during prohibition, tax evasion, um, sexual assault, statutory rape, and many others. His background is similar to that of Pietro and me in that he was orphaned at a young age. Unlike us, he was taken in by a local mob boss. Though he was not of Italian descent, the man taught him everything about the business, grooming him to take over when he retired."

"How did Dalton die?"

"It was likely due to the business in which he prospered. At the end of his life, it was his job to eliminate those who stood in the way of his foster father doing business or who had wronged him in some way."

Nodding sagely, Justin said, "Hitman for the mob. Murdered, I'm guessing."

"Yes. In a particularly gruesome fashion."

Justin stopped her before she could enumerate the details, or he and Amara would be eating alone. "Forget about it for now. I've invited someone to join us for dinner and need your help."

Tilting her head to the side, Wanda retrieved the pages from him. "To do what?"

He motioned her close to whisper in her ear. "It's not for me. It's for Amara."

"Using my abilities to help you get a date is…"

"It's _not_ a date." Gesturing for her to follow, Justin ambled in the direction of the elevators. "Amara's mother is… let's go with pushy. I want the girl to have one night while she's here where dear ol' Mom isn't being a pain in the ass. I'd ask you to do more, but it's Amara's job to tell Mom to can it when she's being overbearing. All _you_ have to do is convince her to go out for the evening. Maybe on a date, or just down to the coffee shop."

~~O~~

Justin's suggestion gave her an idea. "Why not both? The manager of the coffee shop down the street is about her age. Maybe they will hit it off."

She could sense he was skeptical before he opened his mouth to speak. "From what Amara said, I doubt it, unless you put it in her head. What about a little nudge to get her off her daughter's back? To hear Amara tell it, her mom wants her to win this thing. I'm guessing it's so she won't have to work anymore."

"This I can understand, but no parent should wish something upon their child that they do not want." She pressed the button to get the elevator moving. It stopped sooner than it should have. "Seventeenth floor? This must be where your new friend and her mother are staying."

"Good. Go do your stuff, and I'll see you upstairs."

Her nephew pushed her out of the elevator and closed the door before she could get back on. Resigned, Wanda sent out a gentle touch, and soon found the room. It was easy when the mother's voice was raised, berating her daughter for wanting to relax instead of rehearsing. _Oh, this will be a pleasure, my nephew_.

She sent a thin stream of psionic energy under the door, not needing empathy to know when it had taken effect. The mother abruptly stopped yelling, her voice going soft, taking on a dreamy quality.

" _Whatever you say, dear. Order dinner and rest. I'll be at the coffee shop down the street, if you need me_."

The doorknob rattled, and Wanda quickly ducked into the stairwell, watching through the cracked door as a slender woman in unflattering office attire strode to the elevator and was gone. Within seconds, a small blonde girl stuck her head out, looked up and down, and closed the door again.

Satisfied she'd completed her part of this little conspiracy, Wanda took the stairs to the twenty-first floor to get ready for dinner.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Sitting at the vanity, Natasha ran a brush through her hair while watching Bucky getting ready for bed, as always, admiring the way his body moved. He tossed his clothes in the laundry basket and came back to the bed. Taking the pillows from the chaise lounge, he laid them in the middle so she could arrange them how she needed to sleep.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and he came to take the brush, the expression on his handsome features one of guilt without remorse. "Carolyn came by while you were sleeping." Bucky sat next to her, facing the opposite direction. "The doctors are performing a C-section on Serenity as we speak. Afterwards, the twins will be in the NICU for a while. Hopefully, just a few days."

Natasha wanted to be angry with him for keeping something so important from her, but couldn't find it in her to do so. "Then we should be hearing from Carolyn soon."

"You aren't mad?"

"What would it accomplish? It would be happening whether you told me ahead of time or not. I know why you didn't say anything, and appreciate your thoughtfulness." She gripped his shoulder. "I'm not one to panic, as you well know. Just because Serenity is having difficulty with her pregnancy doesn't mean I will. It doesn't mean Mia will either." When he turned away, Natasha forced him to look at her. "I'll be _fine_. I promise. And if something does go wrong, we'll handle it. The outcome won't change if we stay up fretting. We likely won't be allowed to visit until sometime tomorrow." She stood up and held out her hand. "Time for bed, General Barnes."

 **County General Hospital**

In the operating theater, the newborn babies, both boys, were placed into incubators after being cleaned up and having a short visit with Mom and Dad. The nurses wheeled them away while the surgeon closed Serenity's incision. This time, the interpreter was there because they couldn't bring their phones with them. She explained the situation and that the twins being in the incubators was just a precaution. Serenity and Collin would be able to see them in the morning, after the doctor had made his rounds.

They both thanked her, and Collin was taken from the room to where he could see their children through a window. The nurse had just put a blue knit cap on Justin David's head to match the green one on James Tobias's head. JT had taken his first breath twelve minutes before JD. As they were fraternal rather than identical, telling them apart should be easy. Their hearing was checked and found to be normal, meaning it would be a challenge to bring up two hearing children in a non-hearing household.

Standing as close as he could, Collin signed ILY to the boys, though neither could see it, nor would they understand for some time. Prior to the surgery, the doctor had told the couple that the walls of Serenity's uterus had thinned to the point that having another child was not recommended. The news was a blow, but as they'd originally elected not to have kids, they were fine with the directive.

Collin went down the hall to the waiting room to tell the family about the two new additions to the Barnes clan.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

As they got off the elevator on the first floor, Justin searched for Amara, and found her sitting in an out of the way corner once again staring out the window. He called out to her as they approached. "Amara?"

She jumped, as if her mind had been far, far away. "Oh!" Looking from Justin to Wanda and back, she seemed puzzled and rightly so. Most were when told that a teenage girl was his aunt.

"Amara, this is my aunt, Wanda. Wanda, Amara and I are on the same team, at least for now."

Wanda's engaging smile welcomed Amara. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Amara."

With a shy smile, the girl took Wanda's offered hand. "You too." As always, she glanced around, obviously expecting her mother to leap out and begin spouting demands. "Thanks for inviting me to dinner."

Justin held up a cards. "It's nothing. Really. We get free dinner for the duration of our stay." He turned the women toward the dining room.

"Why is that?"

Sharing a look with Wanda, Justin stated, "Our room is haunted."

Now the girl looked startled and a little bit uncertain if they were being serious or having one over on her. "Oh."

He stopped them before they reached the entrance. "Your first lesson in self-confidence begins now. You are going to speak to the hostess. She'll ask how many in our party, and when she shows us to a table, if you don't like it, ask for another. Change that. Ask for a different table no matter where they try to seat us. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Taking a deep breath, Amara moved out in front of them as they approached the hostess.

The woman smiled. "How many for dinner tonight?"

"Three." Even to herself, she sounded tentative. Amara cleared her throat and spoke louder. "Three."

The hostess selected menus with a smile. "Follow me please."

~~O~~

Once they were seated, Wanda sent a short ping to Justin, praising him for taking Amara under his wing. She could tell that he only had the girl's best interests at heart with no ulterior motives.

They opened their menus just as the server came to the table. "My name is Rick. What can I get everyone to drink?"

Amara spoke up first. "Three beers, please. In the bottle."

The young man looked pained. "I'll have to see everyone's IDs."

The girl sighed. "Never mind then." She looked Justin in the eye, something she hadn't done since they met, and smiled. "We'll have three hot chocolates with extra marshmallows."

Justin waited until the server had moved on to the next table to express himself. "You learn quickly. I'm impressed."

Embarrassed at the praise, Amara looked down at the menu, her cheek turning a light shade of pink. "I still have to deal with Mom and Jose."

Reaching across the table, Wanda took her hand. "I know you will do well, Amara. You are destined for greatness."

Her eyes wide, Amara squeaked out, "You think so?"

Justin closed his menu and stood. "I'll be right back. If the server comes, order me the _soupe du jour_ , unless it's chili, then a salad with ranch dressing, and a double bacon cheeseburger with fries."

When he was gone, Amara lowered her voice to ask, " _How_ can he eat all that? Doesn't he know the camera adds ten pounds?"

"My nephew never gains weight. And, as they say, the camera loves him."

Amara seemed to take that comment at face value. "Do you mind me asking how he can be your nephew?"

The server returned with their drinks. They gave their orders and he moved on, taking their menus with him.

Smiling in that way she had, Wanda folded her hands on the table in front of her. "My brother and I were adopted by Justin's grandfather and his second wife. Justin is the oldest son of my adopted-step-sister, Carolyn and her husband, Martin."

"Um, grandfather?"

Wanda stirred her hot chocolate. "Yes. Mother will be giving birth soon, as will Justin's sister, Serenity."

Amara stirred as well without commenting. "What's his son like?"

Blinking, Wanda leaned back. "Son?"

"Dexter. Said he's two months old and staying with an uncle. I'm guessing he means your brother."

Trying not to laugh, Wanda nodded. "Yes. Pietro is quite good with young… children." She cleared her throat as Justin returned. The server arrived at the same time with their drinks, and another with their appetizers. Wanda picked up her spoon and used it to stir the soup. "Nephew, Amara and I were just discussing Dexter."

"Oh?" he stated simply and without remorse for the lie that was and wasn't a lie.

"You should show her a photo." She gave her words the strength of an order, and Justin reacted accordingly.

He chewed a mouthful of chicken noodle soup while digging his phone out of his back pocket. "Any excuse to show him off." Using his thumb, Justin scrolled the photos until he came to the one he wanted. "Here you go."

He passed the phone to Amara and her mouth dropped open. "But he's a _kitten_." She handed the phone back. "You lied to us."

Justin held up a finger. "Didn't. Everything I said was true. He's my 'son', and he's being cared for by my uncle Pietro, Wanda's brother, who lives with his parents, my grandparents."

"But-but… how can your _grandmother_ being having a baby?"

"Step-grandmother. Natasha just turned thirty, and my grandfather's birthday is coming up next month. He'll be ninety-eight."

Before Amara could question them further, their food arrived, and Justin turned the conversation elsewhere until dessert.

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

The bell on the front door jangled and David, the manager, sighed. He'd been about to close up early due to the lack of business, and now he and the barista would have to stay. As the woman approached the counter, he was struck by the dreamy look in her eyes.

He stepped up to the register with a smile. "Good evening. What can we get for you?"

The dream-like expression changed to confusion. "I'm not really sure. Never been here before."

"Have a look at the menu then, or I can make recommendations," David offered. The woman's hair came to just above her shoulders, worn in a casually chic style favored by women who weren't from California. Her clothing was inappropriate for going to the beach, but just right for her. He watched her eyes as they flitted over the menu. "If you don't see anything you like, we can improvise."

She waved away his suggestion. "Won't be necessary. I'll have the smallest Cinnamon Dolce Latte, hot and decaf, please."

When she offered her card, David waved it away. "Because this is your first visit, it's on the house. Have a seat, and I'll bring it to you."

The woman smiled, and it changed her entire look from serious to almost playful. "Thank you."

David made the drink and another for himself and carried them over to the woman's table. "Here you go." He smiled, indicating the cup in his other hand. "I know it's presumptuous of me to ask. May I join you?"

To his surprise, she smiled again. "Please do. My name is Annalee."

"David." He pulled out the chair across from Annalee and sat down. "You have a beautiful smile."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Neither of the girls wanted a full dessert, choosing instead to share a slice of chocolate cake while Justin chowed down on a warm brownie topped with ice cream, chocolate sauce and nuts. He even finished before they did. Taking a bag from where he'd stashed it inside his shirt, he pushed it across the table. "That's for you, Amara. Something to give your self-confidence a boost."

Curious, Amara opened the bag and took out a mottled black and grey t-shirt. Written on the front were the words "Make no mistake. The beast inside me is sleeping, not dead." The watermark was the head of a tiger snarling.

"Oh, wow! I love it!" Then, her expression fell. "Mom won't let me wear it. She'll say it's not lady-like."

"Then tell Mom to stuff it and wear it anyway. Start by wearing it to bed. No need to be 'ladylike' while sleeping."

The girl appeared skeptical as she folded the material and put it back in the bag.

At the same time, Wanda and Justin's phones beeped. They read the text. Wanda squealed, and Justin felt like doing the same. "My sister had her babies today! Twin boys, Justin David and James Tobias." He turned the phone, so Amara could see the photo of the boys in their incubators. "Naturally, the oldest was named after moi."

Wanda couldn't keep quiet any longer. "And the youngest is named after my father." To Justin, she said, "It does not say how long they must be in those containers."

"We'll call Mom when we get back to the room."

Amara looked at the clock over the bar. "I should go back to my room and get ready for bed." She held up a hand. "Not because Mom's due back, but because I'm tired and we have lots of long days ahead of us."

There wasn't a good argument for that, so Justin showed the cards to Ricky as payment for their meals, left a cash tip on the table, and escorted the girls to the elevators. They all got off on seventeen to walk Amara to her room, and as Wanda had done before, took the stairs the rest of the way.

 **After Midnight**

Once they were asleep, Eva stuck her head out of the closet, motioning for King to follow her. They stood in the middle of the room watching Wanda. Her sleep became agitated and the two spirits quickly left the area, appearing in an empty booth in the bar where they spent the time enjoying each other's company, talking about what might happen if Wanda really were able to help them move on to the next plane of existence. Their biggest concern was if they would still be together.

At one point, people took over the booth, and they made themselves scarce. Eva landed in one of the unoccupied rooms where they often met, but King wasn't there. Rolling her eyes, she made a sweep of all the rooms on that floor without success. "I'll just have to search the entire hotel then. Or I could find a quiet place to be alone." She thought for a moment. "Search it is."

Eva passed through the elevator shaft just ahead of the car as it reached the first floor.

~~O~~

The elevator doors opened, and Wanda came out, still in her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks. Anyone who knew her would see that her walk was different, as was the set of her shoulders.

She stood in the bar entrance for a moment, looking over the clientele. Lifting her hands, she flexed the fingers and rubbed her palms together, seeming to enjoy the sensation.

With a smile, she strode up to the bar, hitched one hip onto a chair and slapped a bill on the counter. "Scotch on the rocks, barkeep, as much as this will get me."

The bartender, a man in his fifties, gray haired and shoulders slightly stooped, looked Wanda up and down. "ID."

"I beg your pardon?" She drew her shoulders back and sat up straight, quite indignant.

"You don't look twenty-one, honey. I need to see your ID."

Incensed, Wanda slapped the counter. "My good man, I was born long before your parents were even a glimmer their parents' eyes. Just drop a few ice cubes in a glass, pour the scotch and walk away, and this entire ten-spot is yours."

Irritated, the bartender leaned both hands on the counter. "Look here, young lady, this is an upstanding establishment. We're sticklers when it comes to the law regarding underaged drinking. Now take your cash and go buy yourself something sweet from the vending machine."

He turned his back, certain Wanda would obey.

She snatched up the bill and shoved it in her pocket. "I hope they bring back prohibition, you-you fuddy-duddy!" was her parting shot as she stomped from the bar.

Standing in the hallway near the elevators, her expression brightened as an idea occurred to her. She called the elevator and rode back up to the twenty-first floor.

In the room, Wanda tiptoed over to the minibar, eased it open and took out two small bottles. She went into the bathroom and softly closed the door. Using the nightlight, she opened one of the shrink-wrapped plastic glasses, rinsed it in the sink and set it aside to struggle with opening the bottles. "Damnation! I should've used the other one."

Wanda pulled a hand towel from the bar, wrapped it around the top and twisted, overjoyed when it came off. She did the same to the other then poured both into the glass. Taking it with her, she slipped out into the room and set it on the table in the sitting room while she went to her wallet. She returned the ten-dollar bill, exchanging it for several singles.

On her way to the door, Wanda picked up the glass, let herself out and rode down to the lobby. In the vending area, she perused the offerings and made her choice, after which she stopped at the ice machine to add a few cubes to the drink. Satisfied, she carried everything out to the deck surrounding the pool, set the glass on the table, threw herself into a lounge chair with her ankles crossed and opened the package.

~~O~~

The elevator doors opened, and Justin got off, turned the corner and headed for the pool area. He hit the door with a full head of steam, coming to a stop next to Wanda's chair. She had a lit cigarette in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other and her eyes were closed.

She sipped from the glass, sighing in pleasure. As she brought the cigarette to her lips, Justin snapped, "Kingston George Bennett! What the _hell_ are you doing?"

King, in Wanda's body bolted upright, eyes wide at Eva's tone, coming as it was from Justin's body. "I was…" he looked at the cigarette and glass, and relaxed, "…I just wanted one more drink and a smoke before we go into the great beyond, darling. Is that a crime?"

Hands on her hips, Eva glared at him. "It is now that we've taken over their bodies without asking." She tapped one foot on the deck. "You seem to have forgotten that Wanda is a teenage _girl_ , King. Not to mention we've been _over_ this before. You can't go around taking things that don't belong to you! Least of all someone's body."

Pointing at her with the hand holding the drink, King narrowed his eyes. "And what have you done with that young man's body? Hmm? Did _you_ ask permission?" He gulped down half the remaining drink, adding "ahhh" on the end, as if it was the most pleasure he'd had in years.

"No, and you know very well _why_ , so don't get bent."

Defiantly, King got to his feet, took a long drag on the cigarette and blew it in Eva's face in a show of disdain. Both were racked by a coughing fit, and a moment later, they found themselves lying on the deck, Wanda and Justin's angry expressions blocking their view of the stars.

 **TBC**


	142. Chapter 142

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 142**

The moment Wanda sensed King had left her body, she dropped the cigarette into the ashtray and set the glass on the table. She pushed her palm against Justin's chest, transferring psionic energy to him and ejecting Eva, who landed next to King. It would also give Justin the ability to see the ghosts rather than taking her word for their existence or using her as a translator.

Eva looked at King, and he looked back, both knowing they were in for a long, boring lecture, and they would be right. Wanda's fists jammed into her hips and Justin crossed his arms, feet shoulder width apart, for the moment, letting their expressions show displeasure.

The ghosts climbed to their feet. King brushed a hand over his hair and straightened his clothes, a suit reminiscent of the decade in which he'd died. Eva adjusted the snow-white gown she wore under a flowery robe with trumpet sleeves. At the moment, her hands were free of the elbow-length gloves Wanda had originally seen her wearing.

"I told you from the beginning that I would help you. It was not necessary to-to…" Wanda looked to Justin, unable to come up with the word she wanted.

He supplied it. "Hijack."

"Yes. _Why_ did you hijack our bodies while we were sleeping? You had me smoking and drinking alcohol. I am underage for _both_ , or did you not take that into consideration? Who know what else you might have done, if Eva hadn't stopped you? You have made me quite _angry_ and it would serve you right if I were to…"

King rolled his eyes. "Please _stop_ , my dear. You sound like my first ex-wife. Always questioning my motives, wanting to know where I'd been when all I'd done was take a long walk in the garden or a gone for a ride on one of the stable horses. Alone."

"You said she found you in bed with another woman," Eva shot back.

Spreading his hands in a "there, you have it" gesture, "See what I mean? If she had trusted me, I wouldn't have strayed in the first place. It was a case of damned if I don't, damned if I do, so why not commit the sin she's already certain I've done?"

"Sad testament to her state of mind, King," Justin told him with sympathy.

"You have my full agreement there, dear boy. Then there was my second wife."

Wanda hoped that by letting King talk he would eventually return to the subject. "What happened?"

"Gambling." At Wanda's shocked gasp, he explained. "Not mine. Hers. For our honeymoon, she insisted on a train tour of the east coast with stops at all the horse and dog racing establishments. That's how I found out she was an inveterate gambler. Not that I was averse to covering her losses, you see. My father, on the other hand, did not approve, so he paid off her sizable obligation to several bookies and gave her an indecent amount of money to divorce me."

From her expression, Eva had heard this part of the story before, pretending to be bored with it all. "Yes, do go on, King. Tell them the rest."

Taking a seat with a huff, he invited them all to do the same. "While _I_ didn't learn from my two previous mistakes, Father, apparently did. Prior to our wedding, he had his solicitors draw up what they called a pre-marital agreement wherein she would only inherit a small token, if I were to die of something other than natural causes, including but not limited to car accidents, poisoning, gunshot wounds, and so forth. Likely due to her first husband dying under suspicious circumstances." Eva took hold of his hand and he gave her an affectionate smile. "I'm sure Father mourned my passing while at the same time being overjoyed that my death was due to a gas leak cause by the repairman and number three got her car, the clothes and jewelry I bought her and a small cottage in Ruidoso, New Mexico."

"Poor dear." Eva touched his cheek. "You led such a tempestuous life."

"Yes, I did." He kissed her hand. "It's a shame that I had to die to find the one who makes my heart sing."

Justin cleared his throat, deadpanning, "Yeah, that's great. How about we get back to why you possessed us with asking."

King had the good sense to look contrite. "Because the lovely Wanda consented to assist us in departing this mortal realm, I wanted to entertain two of my three favorite vices before we meet our maker."

As the eldest, Wanda let Justin ask the next question. "But why Wanda? I was right there, and you could've gotten all the giggle water you wanted from the bar and charged it to our room. We wouldn't have known until we checked out."

King chuckled. "I did it for the laugh, you see. The promise to help us could, under the very loosest of interpretations, be construed as permission to possess, albeit temporarily. Eventually, Eva would come looking for me, and she'd have to take over _your_ body in order to put me to task." He placed a hand over his heart. "I solemnly avow that we would not have done anything that would have caused physical or emotional harm to either of you."

Taking his response at face value, Wanda scooted forward in her seat, peering at him with wide eyes. "Let's put the matter of permission aside for now. Tell me, have you had much trouble from the third spirit that resides within the hotel?"

A look of panic crossed Eva's features. "We've not had direct contact with… him. Before King came along, I used to take the occasional stroll through the lower levels. It was boring, as there was little to recommend it as an attraction, so I kept myself to the upper floors."

King picked up the thread from there. "Then, several years ago, the owners had new equipment installed. There was quite the fuss when the workers found dismembered human remains. Since that day, we've avoided the area, and the dark presence we could both sense." He snorted without humor. "Even the hotel's staff gives it a wide berth."

Wanda shared a look with Justin. "I believe his name to be Basil Bernard Dalton."

~~O~~

"He worked for a mafia boss, and from his rap sheet, he broke nearly every law enacted since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Anyone who got in his way met an untimely end. _When_ he died isn't clear. Not even the medical examiner knows. At a guess, sometime in the sixties, but his body parts weren't discovered until they did the repairs." Justin rubbed his hands together. "I'd stay away from the basement until we figure this out."

All four stood at once, King speaking for Eva and himself. "That goes without saying, old chap," he nodded at Wanda, "dear girl."

In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Justin crossed his arms and huffed. "Great. Two joke-playing ghosts and another with mayhem on his mind." He gestured toward the lobby doors. "I don't know what you have planned for tomorrow, auntie, but I need to get back to bed."

"I do as well. Tomorrow will be spent researching how to remove an evil spirit as well as the best way to aid Eva and King in moving on."

Justin had one hand on the door when he noticed that Wanda had returned to the deck where she was finishing off the scotch. "Wanda!"

With her back to him, she jumped, nearly choking on the drink. She quickly finished it and trotted to his side with a sheepish half-smile. "It was taken from our minibar. For what it costs, I did not want it to go to waste."

They ignored the odd looks from the staff at seeing them coming in from the pool area late at night in their pajamas and got on the elevator. Justin hit the button for their floor and rode with his arms crossed. "Stay _out_ of the minibar, Wanda. The exorbitant cost aside, Nat and Gramps will have my head on a platter if they find out I let you get drunk on my watch."

"I am _not_ drunk, nephew." A hiccup came at the end of the last word and she swayed slightly. "You forget that Peeee-yay-tro and I have been drinking wine since we were young."

"Hmph. It'll serve you right if you have a hangover in the morning."

The doors opened and Justin followed Wanda back to their room. "Not once have either of us has ever experienced such a thing."

Justin let them in and closed the door. "Scotch is _not_ wine. Just drop it for now and get some sleep." He lay faced down on the bed and was asleep within minutes.

~~O~~

On the roof, King wrapped his arms around Eva from behind while they watched the moon make its slow trek across the starry sky. "Darling, in all the years we've been together, we've seldom taken advantage of the living in the way we have since Wanda and Justin came to stay. Why is that?"

"As I said, earlier, my love. It's rude to take what isn't yours without asking."

"How did you ever get by in Hollywood with such a strict code of ethics?"

She chuckled, and he felt it along the length of his chest. "It wasn't easy. Because of it, my rise to fame took much longer than it might've for another with similar talents."

He planted a small kiss on her ear. Not that it did any good, they could feel, but because they were spirits, there was no surge of sexual arousal as there would be with two warm bodies. "Have I ever told you that I've seen all of your movies?"

Shocked, Eva turned to face him, her eyes wide and a smile on her lovely features. "No. Truly?"

"Truly." King lightly held her upper arms, her small hands resting on his chest. "I was smitten from the moment I saw you as the younger sister of the main character in, now what was the name of that movie?"

" _Could be Worse_. I had six scenes and three were left on the cutting room floor, as they say."

King's palms gently framed her face. "Your eyes mesmerized me. If we had met before my first marriage, there would not have been a second or third because I cannot foresee an instance when I would've been tempted to stray. Not when I had your loveliness to look forward to when I came home. Or you came home to me after months away making yet another smashing film."

Their lips met, and though they could both feel it, again, it was like kissing a pillow. Pressure, but no great pleasure at the contact.

"I hate to burst your romantic bubble, my love." For a moment, King thought she might tell him that she wouldn't have felt the same, relaxing when she took his hand and drew him over to the steps leading to the tower where the hotel's sign glowed red and white. "What do you think will happen once Wanda is able to help us leave this place?"

"I suppose it's possible that we might not end up in the same place or be so removed from each other that we'll be unable to reconnect. If I weren't already dead, just the thought would send me off to my sick bed in anguish."

Eva laid her hand on his thigh. "I would as well. And that has given me an idea."

Smiling and laying a hand over hers, King sighed, "Do go on, my dear. You have such wonderful ideas."

Suddenly shy, she looked away. "In our time, everyone did it, but no one talked about it the way they do now."

Somehow, King knew what she was trying to say without saying it. "Yes. Quite. If we were living, that is definitely a turn of events that I would be interested in pursuing." Placing his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close. "The evening would begin with a romantic dinner at a small, out of the way restaurant where no one would know us. I'd present you with a single rose as red as your lips."

"We'd dance, of course. Drink wine, share a dessert that the chef prepared especially for us."

His cheek rubbed against hers. "Afterward, we'd stroll along the river watching the boats filled with merry-makers go by before the chauffeur drove us back to my penthouse, where we'd spend the entire night in each other's arms. We'd be married first, of course."

"If you insist," she answered with mock seriousness.

"I do." With other women, King hadn't had a problem suggesting they spend the night without benefit of marriage. Yet with Eva, it seemed to be the only way to go. "What do you think our mortal friends would say if we asked them to… facilitate such an event?"

She laughed. "They are aunt and nephew, darling. We could hardly ask them to do it." Her lips parted as she got an idea. "However, they may be persuaded to find a couple who are willing to allow us to truly be as one, if only for one night."

It was King's turn to laugh. "That conversation will be the epitome of awkwardness." He squeezed her tight. "Let's do it."

~~O~~

Deep in the darkest recesses of the basement, a spirit moved through the empty halls. He'd made an attempt to possess a living person on a few occasions. Unfortunately for him, all had worn some sort of charm, a rosary, a St. Christopher's Medal or other talisman that prevented possession. It puzzled him that these objects worked because he hadn't believed in God since the day his parents were killed in a car accident.

Sal believed, but was never able to convince him of the existence of some omnipotent deity that had their lives all planned out. He did what he wanted, answering only to Sal.

From the basement window that looked out onto the deck, he watched and listened as the living berated the spirits for taking over their bodies simply to have access to creature comforts.

What he needed was a way to do the same. But how to entice a non-believer close enough for him to slip inside? As much as he wanted to avoid those goody two-shoes who kept to the upper floors, he wanted his revenge even more. That meant he would have to leave the relative safety of the boiler room. It was a risk he was willing to take. First on his list was to find out who killed him.

His first thought was someone from a rival family. The hitch was the fact that his body had been hidden for several decades. If a rival had ordered the hit, his body would've been left where it could be easily seen to send a message. While he could remember up to the moment he came down to the lobby to wait for his mark after checking in, there was nothing after that until he saw the men placing a skeleton into a black bag while the coppers looked over the wallet Sal had given him for his twenty-first birthday. He'd tried hitching a ride, but it was a no-go.

Years ago, an old gypsy had told him that souls stayed where their bodies died, but only if they had unfinished business. His unfinished business was getting revenge on the cat that'd taken him out and do a hit on the two upstairs. Then he'd be living, so to speak, in fat city.

All he had to do was wait for just the right person to possess and he'd be gone from this hell hole. That girl, though, she gave him the willies. Something in her eyes said she wasn't no ordinary babe. The other one gave off a different vibe, creepy, like something out of _The Manchurian Candidate_. Best to avoid both of them until he could beat feet.

He slunk back into the shadows and waited. Patience was a virtue in his business. It was his only virtue.

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **Mid-Morning**

Pacing outside the rehearsal studio assigned to his team, Justin wanted to break in to Jose's session with Amara and punch him into next week. They were told to stay in the dining room and weren't permitted off the property without their team.

" _Eres una chica tonta!_ "

Justin's anger raised a few more notches at hearing Jose call Amara a stupid girl. Their mentor continued to berate the poor girl in Spanish. In the back of his mind, Justin wondered where he'd learned the language. _Oh, joy. More research_. He was about to intervene, but was forced to jump out of the way when the door was opened from the inside and a sobbing Amara ran down the hall to the bathroom.

He returned to the dining room, motioning for Kimberly, keeping his voice low, "Would you check on Amara, please?"

She rolled her whiskey-brown eyes, the usual response to something idiotic that Jose had done, her mouth pursed in a hard line of disapproval before letting herself into the bathroom. He might've asked Sloan, but she was busy staring at her reflection in a mirror and talking on her cell phone.

Without knocking, Justin jerked the door to the studio open, and marched across the room to confront Jose, arms hanging loosely at his sides as if preparing for battle. "What did you _say_ to her?" he demanded.

Jose wiped his brow with a towel and picked up a reusable water bottle. "That is none of your business. Go _back_ to the waiting area."

"Your orders don't mean _squat_ , _cabrón_." From there, the two men continued in Spanish. "Tell me what you said to her?"

Giving in ungracefully, Jose faced the mirror to check himself out, one eye on Justin's reflection while smoothing his hair and adjusting his clothes. "I cannot fathom how that stupid child ever expects to advance to the finals with her poor attitude."

Being a few inches taller than the idiot, Justin spun him around and got right up in his face. "Amara's not the one with the attitude problem." He poked Jose in the chest. " _No mames_."

The other man stood his ground. "What will you do? One word from me and," he snapped his fingers, " _te habrás ido_."

Justin took another step forward, finally seeing a bit of fear in Jose's eyes. " _Tonto es el que habla tonterías_." Satisfied that the other man was suitably intimidated, he eased off a little. "Show me the routine."

"Your turn will come. I did not employ a group lesson because I believed that Amara would benefit from _uno a uno_ tutelage. That, however, was not the case. Here in America, you would say that she has two left feet."

"Yeah, yeah. Just show me the routine and you can get back to your _uno a uno_ tutelage."

Knowing that Justin wouldn't leave until he'd complied, Jose picked up the remote and turned on the music. Justin recognized it as a compilation of different genres of music and the dancing that accompanied it. Standing off to one side, he watched their mentor, who was anything but, as he cavorted around the room. He was good, but not nearly good enough to be teaching others, especially people like Amara who'd never danced before.

Four bars in, Justin joined him, executing the same moves as Jose, with a more free and easy technique. His companion arched his back, making overly dramatic gestures in the way that many competition dancers did to show off their flexibility. But Justin had no need to show off. His casual, flowing moves gave the impression that the music emanated from within his body. Not imposed from without as Jose's did.

For the tap dancing to a Gene Kelly song, Justin grabbed two fedoras from the shelf, tossed one to Jose, and the pair continued the routine. Near the end, they sailed the hats away, finishing with a flourish.

Justin didn't know what Jose's expectations were when told he could dance, "if that's what you want to call it". Likely, he thought they would all need, in his words, _uno a uno_ tutelage. Just the fact that Jose kept his face averted told Justin that he'd surprised him by performing the routine without being taught. It was true, Justin hadn't done this exact dance before today, but he had done each individual dance and had seen the video. Like Sean with his eidetic memory for playing music on the piano or guitar, Justin could do the same with dances. Playing the songs took a little more time.

"Your initial interview with Monroe led me to believe that you had little experience with dancing."

Still pissed, Justin picked up the hats they'd thrown and placed them on the shelf with the other props. "I'm not really one to blow my own horn. If you're good at what you do, it's not necessary to tell others, because they already know and _they_ tell the world."

That comment got Jose's back up again. He stomped across the room. "First you insult my teaching methods and now you do the same to my personal abilities."

"I'm just saying bragging shows that you're insecure about your qualifications for this position."

Jose poked a finger in Justin's face. "Big talk from someone who learned the routine by watching the video."

"You're right. That _is_ how I learned it, but I've only seen it twice."

A bell rang, and Jose sighed in relief. "It is time for our lunch break. Everyone should return in two hours."

Without responding, Justin left their mentor alone to wallow in a vat of insecurity of his own making. He went to check on Amara and found her in the dining room with the others. Sloan was still on the phone and had switched from hair to nails. "Lunchtime, boys and girls. What say we head over to that little pub up the street? I heard they have the best burgers in town."

The others picked up their bags and purses and headed for the door. As she passed, Sloan huffed. "I don't eat meat, but I'll go cuz I don't want to sit here by myself."

"Don't fret. They also have rabbit food."

After lunch, they came back, and this time Jose, a bit more subdued than usual, brought them all in to practice singing the songs and adding the dance moves. By the end of the day, Jose was giving Amara odd looks, holding in his surprise that she had managed to learn the steps so much quicker than one on one.

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

 **Noon-ish**

Pulling the brim of her hat down over her eyes, Wanda trudged through the sand to the wooden sidewalk that led to the coffee shop where she'd spent most of the previous day, wincing every time a car horn sounded. She stepped up to the counter and took out her wallet.

"Welcome back. Same as yesterday?" the barista asked.

Keeping her voice low, Wanda shook her head, groaning at the pain. "What do you have for a hangover?"

Through her dark glasses, the young man nodded understanding. "Ah, late night, huh? You need to rehydrate and restore your electrolytes." He opened the display case and set a sport drink on the counter and put it back when she waved it away. "You also need something in your stomach. Eggs or a smoothie with bananas, dates and leafy greens. Add a little honey to sweeten it and you're on the road to health again."

" _Please_ , keep your voice down and stop sounding so cheerful." Wanda whispered as she laid the cash on the counter. "I do not understand _how_ I can have a hangover. The amount I drank was small." She pinched a bit of air. "Just two small bottles of Western Sling scotch."

He covered a laugh by coughing. "That's one of the cheapest scotches you can buy. Hangover guaranteed for the uninitiated."

Taking a chance that her headache would worsen, Wanda pulled her glasses down to look over the top, giving him one of Natasha's death glares. "Stop talking and go make my order."

She turned away and went to the darkest corner as far from the doors and windows as she could get. Not long after her computer had booted up, the barista brought a smoothie, a dish of scrambled eggs and one of the drinks she had the day before. He laid her cash on the table and walked away. On the napkin, he'd written: _On the house. Feel better soon_. Underneath he'd drawn a smiley face, making her feel bad about the way she'd treated him.

Leaving the computer alone for now, Wanda concentrated on eating the eggs and drinking the vile tasting smoothie, though she had to admit he was right. She did feel better. Good enough to take off her sunglasses and hat. _I will not give Justin the satisfaction of knowing he was right_.

 **The Wandering Crab Seafood and Pub**

 **Evening**

At the end of the day, Justin and his teammates went to a popular seafood place up the street to eat, and even invited Jose. Upon arrival, they found that two other teams were already seated.

It had taken a bit of persuasion, but he finally convinced Sloan to put her phone down long enough to accomplish his task, which was to show Jose that Amara, and the rest, were capable of learning something new as long as they had the right teacher, and/or the teacher had the right attitude.

Even in the casual setting, Justin's team, and the others, hadn't loosened up much. Amara and Jose avoided looking at each other or speaking, unless they couldn't help it, making the atmosphere around their table tense. Watching from the bar, he got an idea to show Jose the error of his ways regarding Amara. No guarantee it would work, but it couldn't hurt to try.

He paid for their drinks and returned to the table, taking his seat next to Amara and Kimberly, who were talking like old friends. Sloan had finally gotten off the phone, though she kept checking for texts and emails, huffing when there were none. The guys were talking soccer.

Within moments, the server was there. She put three pitchers of beer and seven glasses on the table. Justin filled the glasses and passed them around. "First two rounds are on me." He emptied one pitcher and started on the second one.

Justin could see that Jose was annoyed with his take-charge attitude. The other man picked up his glass and went to sit with the mentors who seemed to have decided not to consort with their mentees more than necessary, but didn't want to be completely left out of the loop. He leaned forward, motioning for his teammates to do the same. "Wanna have some fun?"

A chorus of agreement answered his question, even from Sloan, who had finally put her phone in her purse. He whispered instructions and stood. "Wait here."

Justin did the same at the other two tables, pointedly leaving out the mentors. At each table, the group agreed to his plan.

He returned to his team, sat down, and air drummed or air guitared while singing along to whatever song was playing, while keeping an eye on his co-conspirators as they got up a few at a time and left the bar by the front door. When there were only a few remaining, plus the mentors, Justin got up to leave, waving good-bye to the staff on his way out.

Out on the beach, the teams met up again, far enough away from the pub that they wouldn't be seen. They all turned to watch him expectantly as he jogged over. "We need to get the other three teams on board." Hands were raised. "Cool. We'll start tonight, and get the rest caught up tomorrow. Don't forget. We're meeting right here every night to rehearse, and we'll spring it on 'em during dress rehearsals before the elimination rounds begin." Everyone looked at him, some whispering and casting glances at him as if he were nuts. That may be true, but there was a method to his madness. "We've only got a week to work on this, so everyone pay attention."

Earlier, Justin had gone to the bathroom, and stopped to talk to the manager. The man was kind enough to do him a huge favor: he downloaded the list of songs he'd written down, edited them into a medley in a specific order and burned him a CD. The man even gave him a boom box and remote to use, which he would return this same time next week.

"Once we've all learned the steps, we'll work out who sings what. Agreed?" Again, Justin got a chorus of positive responses. "We're doing this barefoot, so everyone take off your shoes and socks, or whatever, and pick a place to stand. I'll do a series of steps then we'll do them together. Holler, if you need me to slow it down."

Justin took off his sneakers and socks, set them next to a palm tree and returned to the front of the group. "Ready… Set… Go!"

 **TBC**

 _The Manchurian Candidate_ is a 1962 American Cold War suspense thriller film directed and produced by John Frankenheimer and written by George Axelrod, based on the 1959 Richard Condon novel _The Manchurian Candidate_.

The plot centers on the Korean War brainwashing of Raymond Shaw, the son of a prominent political family, who becomes an unwitting assassin of an international communist conspiracy. Officials from China and the Soviet Union employ Shaw as a sleeper agent in an attempt to take over the U.S. government.

 _Eres una chica tonta!_ = You are a stupid girl!

 _Cabrón_ = Dumbass

 _No mames_ = Don't be an asshole

 _Te habrás ido!_ = You will be gone!

 _Tonto es el que habla tonterías_ = Fool is the one who speaks nonsense


	143. Chapter 143

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 143**

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

 **Mid-morning**

Sitting in her usual corner, Wanda went from one website to another, comparing methods for ridding a home or other building of evil spirits. There were many to choose from when dealing with Dalton. However, not much could be found for helping Eva and King make the transition, and nothing at all to make sure they were together in the afterlife.

According to the site, there were three highly effective ways to remove a spirit. The most common and efficient was to salt and burn their mortal bones. Dalton's bones were at the county coroner's office. _How am I supposed to remove bones from a government building and burn them without getting caught? Psionics can only do so much._

The second method was to destroy the haunted object. _Let's save burning down the hotel as a last resort_.

The third and most difficult was to resolve the ghost's issues. _What if they won't talk to you, or were so angry that they wouldn't listen? Or their unresolved issues couldn't be resolved. There are many "powers" with which ghosts are endowed. However, Eva and King have only manifested a few. What about Dalton? As yet, he had not demonstrated any powers. That could mean he was biding his time, or is still learning._

The sense that Wanda got was that the dead hitman would first look for a way to get revenge on whoever had killed him. After that, he would wish to permanently possess a human host in order to continue his previous activities.

The front door bell tinkled, distracting Wanda. A woman came in wearing light blue Capri pants, a short-sleeved top with a beach scene on the front and matching sneakers without socks. Over one shoulder she carried a huge beach bag in lieu of a purse. Dark sunglasses and a straw hat kept Wanda from fully seeing the woman's face though somehow, she seemed familiar. She sent a short ping that wouldn't be felt, and what she got back surprised her.

The woman took off the sunglasses, showing her face to be free of make-up except for a light coating of gloss on her lips. She smiled at the barista and her eyes sparkled. "I'll have one of your tropical smoothies with double honey, please."

 _Amara's mother? What is she doing here at this time of day? She usually spends her time on the computer working remotely._

As she passed Wanda's table, she gave her a smile and kept going until she found one she liked on the patio. She opened the bag and took out a paperback novel, setting it and the sunglasses aside when the barista brought her drink.

As Wanda hadn't done anything more than put the idea into Annalee's head that she wanted to go out for the evening, this was quite a surprise. _Justin, and especially Amara, will flip at the change in her mother's appearance and mind-set in less than two days, if she hasn't already_.

"Excuse me."

Wanda looked up from her laptop to find the barista who had waited on her every day standing near her table. In He was holding two glasses of her favorite frozen coffee drink. She smiled and closed her laptop when he set one of the glasses on the table. "Thank you, but I didn't order this."

"I know." His eyes were a shade of green lighter than an emerald, and his hair had been naturally bleached by the sun. He indicated the drink in the other hand. "I'm on a break. Would you mind some company?"

Her phone chose that moment to beep. She held up a finger while she checked who the text was from, sighed and shut off the ringer. "Not at all."

"Aaron." He pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

"My name is Wanda." Embarrassed by her treatment of him the day before, Wanda looked down at her hands for a moment then met his eyes. "I am sorry for being rude yesterday."

He waved away her apology. "Believe me you were in no _way_ the rudest person I dealt with that day, or even this month. This is California. If I don't run into at least one rude person a day, then I start prepping for the apocalypse because the world's about to end."

Wanda laughed out loud and picked up her drink. "I sometimes feel the same at home."

"I was wondering about your accent."

"My brother and I are originally from Sokovia. We were adopted and brought to America." She sipped the drink and set it down, rubbing her thumb through the condensation. "I was speaking of where we now live."

Aaron leaned back in his chair, his expression indicating genuine interest. "Do you mind me asking where that is?"

"Outside of Washington D.C." Though she expected Aaron to delve deeper into her personal and family life, he didn't, though she could see the questions in his eyes. "My brother and I are twins. He is older."

Her companion laughed. "Thanks for saving me from being nosy." They watched the manager, David, walk out to the patio to talk to Annalee. "How about this: What brings you to California?"

A surge of pride in Justin had to show on her face and in her manner. "My nephew is a contestant on a television show that features singing and dancing."

"Ah. That means you're staying at Sudbury Court." He leaned fractionally closer, as if he were telling a secret. "I've heard _stories_ about that place."

Slightly suspicious, Wanda was tempted to peek into his head, but didn't. She sipped from her drink again and crossed her knees. "What sort of stories?"

"Oh, the usual when a herd of divas gather in one place."

"I do not understand. What is a diva?"

"A diva is someone, not necessarily an actor, singer or artist, who acts self-important and highly temperamental, bringing lots of unwarranted drama into every situation, which they continually try to make about themselves."

Angry at his insult to Justin, Wanda shoved her laptop in her bag without turning it off, added her wallet and phone, and stood. She grabbed the unfinished drink Aaron had given her and removed the lid. "My nephew is _not_ a diva. He is truly talented, and quite humble about his abilities."

She dumped the drink over Aaron's head, picked up her bag and walked out with her nose in the air, ignoring his sputtering attempts to stop her. Out in the street, she slipped on her sunglasses, and put headphones in her ears, looking both ways on the busy coastal road. She needed to work off her anger, so she chose a direction, turned the music up loud and started walking.

 **The Tandoori Tiger**

 **Arlington, Virginia**

The server bowed slightly and moved away to place Bucky and Natasha's orders with the chef. She had been craving Indian food for a few days, and her wonderful husband, bless him, had insisted they go out to lunch.

Sipping her Rooh Afza, a Pakistani soft drink, Natasha let the music surround her. She inhaled the medley of scents wafting through the air, thankful that she no longer suffered with morning sickness, or this excursion would've ended badly. Not only for her and Bucky, but for the people around them.

Their server came back with their Aloo Chaat, an Indian street food made with potatoes, spices and chutney. Bucky poked it with a finger. "It looks… weird."

"You sound like a kid. Just _try_ it. If you don't like it, we'll take the leftovers home." He drank some of his mango shake while Natasha transferred a few bites to his plate.

He put a bite in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, his forehead creased in thought. "Okay, so it's not as bad as it looks."

Natasha swallowed, sipped her drink and wiped her mouth. "Are we going to do this the whole meal?"

Bucky crossed his arms and looked stubborn. "Maybe." His tone and the twinkle in his blue eyes belied the body language.

Pushing back from the table, Natasha stood and came to whisper in his ear. "Remember to only eat with your right hand, don't lick your fingers, and if they offer you more of anything, flatbread, pickles, rice, drink, whatever, don't turn it down. I'll be right back."

~~O~~

As Natasha made her way from the bathrooms to her table, a tall, slender and well-dressed Asian man said, "Excuse me."

Wary, though she sensed no danger, she answered simply and with a bland smile, so as not to invite a lengthy conversation. "Yes?"

He held out a business card. "My name is Ezekiel Woo. I'm a photographer specializing in maternity and baby photo shoots. May I say that you are an absolutely _stunning_ mother-to-be. I would love to photograph you, both before and after the birth. If you would allow me to show you my work, and if you haven't done so already, perhaps we could come to an equitable arrangement to do a shoot of you and your family."

She looked at the card in her hand and perused his earnest smile. He wasn't gay, but his eyes stayed on her face. "I'll talk to my husband, Mr. Woo."

The man bowed slightly. "Of course. Thank you."

He returned to his table where four others were sitting, studiously not watching the interaction. Natasha slipped the card into her cleavage and rejoined Bucky. "Who's that?"

"A maternity photographer. Wants to do a family photo shoot before and after Esme's born."

"We should do it. I don't know if those who live out of town can get here. Unless you just want us and the twins."

Another server came around to refill their drinks and was gone just as quickly. "I hadn't thought about it, but you're right. We should. I even have an idea for after she's born. Not sure how Carolyn would feel about it though."

"Tell me."

"We should get the whole family, everyone in one photo, with Connie watching over us."

Bucky stopped with a piece of food halfway to his mouth. He put the morsel back on the plate, wiped his hands and mouth, and took another drink of his shake before taking her hand. "What did I ever do to deserve someone as kind, compassionate and loving as you?"

Tears filled Natasha's eyes. "I often wonder the same thing. Until we met, thoughts of marriage, children, pets, or having a permanent home instead of always being on the move never crossed my mind." She gave his hand a quick squeeze, adding a smirk on the end. "Someone's gonna get lucky tonight."

Bucky's eyes lit up. "Yeah? Who?"

It was said with a smirk as well, and Natasha wiggled her eyebrows at him. "You'll see when we get home."

 **Sunshine Pilates Studio**

"…As your abs get stronger, it's vital to also tone your back as well. It's also good for those of us with lower back issues because once you've strengthened the muscles, you should, hopefully, have fewer problem days, or they'll not be as bad. And don't forget to breathe." Rey lay down on the double cushioned mat she chose to ease the strain on her still-healing left leg. "Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet hip-width apart. Keep your arms at your sides, palms down, thumbs pointed toward your thighs." She raised her head to check on the group of new students taking their first class. Good form for newbies. "Raise your hips without arching your back, tightening the muscles of your backside and hamstrings. Hold for five breaths… Lower down to the mat one vertebra at a time." She let them rest a moment. "You're doing great, ladies. And again…"

From the office doorway, Margo caught her eye and smiled as the class lowered to the floor once more. "Sit with your legs straight in front of you, feet together, toes pointed toward your nose. Press your hands flat on the mat next to your hips, thumbs to thighs. Using just your upper body strength, lift your backside and upper legs. Swing yourself forward and backward… and lower yourself slowly to the mat. Good. Keep breathing… Four more…" While the class was concentrating on the moves, Rey added a little background on this form of exercise. "Pilates is the art of controlled movements. They should look and feel like a workout when performed correctly. It improvs flexibility, builds strength and develops control and endurance in the entire body with an emphasis on alignment, breathing, developing a strong core and improving coordination and balance."

After taking the class through several more exercises, Rey got to her feet. "Everyone stand, please. Feet together, eyes closed, lean forward, let your arms and head hang down… slowly roll up one vertebra at a time, raising your head last… arms at your side, palms facing forward… raise your arms straight up at your side until they're over your head and the palms are touching… breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth while bringing your hands down into prayer position… breathe in… and out… And… we're done." Rey smiled and clapped twice. "Great class, ladies. You'll be ready for the advanced class before you know it. If anyone has questions, ask Margo or me."

Five of the women clustered together, sipping water, gathering their belongings and talking. Rey went into the office for water and came back out in time to hear one of the ladies complaining. She obviously had more money than sense to go by her expensive hair style, designer gym bag, fashion-forward workout clothes and the new Infiniti SUV parked over two spaces.

"I can't believe we're taking a class taught by a _fat_ girl. If Pilates is so great, shouldn't she be thin? She's _supposed_ to set an example for the rest of us, but if she can't keep her hand out of the cookie jar…"

Humiliated and mortified by the woman's insensitive remarked, Rey's hold on her emotions snapped.

~~O~~

Margo came out of the back room with a stack of freshly sanitized mats for use by those who didn't bring their own, jumping out of the way as Rey hurried into the bathroom, slammed and locked the door. She laid the mats on a table and tapped lightly on the door. "Rey, honey? You okay? What happened?" Because she was sobbing, it was difficult to make out what she was saying, though she understood enough to take action.

Angry on Rey's behalf, Margo stormed into the studio, cutting off the last group of women leaving. "Which one of you called Reya fat?" No one said anything. She jammed her fists into her hips and glared. Then, one by one, the innocent ones turned to look at the guilty party.

Seeing no support from her friends, the woman boldly lifted her chin. "Well, it's true. How can a _fat_ girl expect us to…"

The woman's emphasis on the word fat that raised Margo's rage level. "You shouldn't judge someone when you don't know their story."

"What _story_? Hmph! Don't know _how_ I let you all convince me this was a better studio than the one on Wiltshire." She aimed the comment at the others who were studiously avoiding her gaze. "At least _their_ instructors practice what they preach."

Taking a deep breath and counting to ten so she wouldn't hit her, Margo made the only decision possible. "That's it! I'm cancelling your membership, Patricia. You'll get a full refund within forty-eight hours.

"B-But…" Patricia stammered.

Margo crossed her arms. "Speaking of _butts_ , Patricia, get yours off Reya's property and don't come back." Again, the woman gapped at her. "That's right. Reya's not just an instructor. She's the _owner_."

Patricia adjusted the strap of her bag on her right shoulder, attempting to gather the tattered remains of her dignity. "This is absurd! Owner or not, how can she expect her clients to respect her when she's let herself go like that?"

Taking a step forward so that she was up in Patricia's face, Margo lowered her voice. "Not that it's any of _your_ business, but Rey didn't let herself go, as you so bluntly put it. She was pregnant." Again, Patricia's mouth dropped open. "Yes, was. There was an accident a few weeks before Christmas that caused her to suffer a miscarriage. It's a miracle she didn't die too. Losing the baby has been really hard on her. So, as I said, don't judge others without all the facts."

Finally, Patricia got it. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Taking a step to the side, Margo indicated the front door. "Your "sorries" don't mean _squat_. Now _get…_ _out_. And don't even _think_ of trashing us on social media or I'll be forced to tell the world what a boney, over-dressed, insensitive _bitch_ you are." She aimed her glare at the others. "Anyone want to unjoin with her?" The other women made frantic head shakes and scurried out to their cars. Once the last had gone, she locked the door, turned on the closed sign and went back to the bathroom. "Reya, honey?"

She heard sniffing and blowing. The lock clicked, and Rey slowly opened the door. Her eyes were red from crying and a wad of tissues were in her hand. "Is she gone?"

Enfolding Rey in a hug, she patted her back soothingly. "Yes. Fired her ass too. No one calls my girl names and gets away with it."

"Thanks." She sniffed again and pushed out of her arms. They went into the office and sat on the small sofa. "When I got up this morning, I was so excited to get back to work. I've lost five pounds since last week and had to tighten the drawstring on all my leggings. My leg only hurts when I overdo and when it snows or rains, and I can almost get back into my pre-pregnancy clothes. And that… _person_ had to go and ruin it."

"The only thing worse than _her_ being a bitch is _you_ letting her destroy your joy. I wouldn't be surprised if the friends she joined with stop speaking to her." Margo patted her knee as if she were a child. "Let's go have ice cream for lunch. You can complain about your BF not calling while he's out of town."

 **Coast Road Motorcycles and Scooters**

 **Hollywood, California**

Time had no real meaning as Wanda kept up a steady pace along the coastal road. Not until she stopped for something to drink, mentally rolling her eyes at how the memory of dumping the drink over Aaron's head. _He_ _did_ _deserve it, you know_ , her little voice whispered in her head with a touch of sarcasm.

"Perhaps. However, I should have given him a chance to explain."

 _Now you have to find a new place to get your coffee and free wi-fi_.

"This is true." Her ruminating came to a halt as she came out of the store with a bottle of water and looked around to get her bearings. Not a half block up the street she spotted a motorcycle shop advertising classes. Many times, Bucky, Natasha and Justin said they would teach her how to ride once she learned to drive a car and got her license. All she needed for the lessons was a learner's permit.

Before she could change her mind, Wanda let herself into the showroom, wandering through the floor models, trying to decide which she would prefer, if she were in the market to purchase. Her favorite color was red, but she also liked the shiny black and chrome.

She sensed the man near before he spoke. "Hi. My name's Armin. See something you like?"

"Wanda. And yes." Putting on a smile, she faced him. Moving around to where the cameras wouldn't see, she flicked a small stream of psionic mist at him. "I do not know how to ride yet and would like to learn."

"You're in luck. We have a class this afternoon." He motioned to the counter. "Let's get you enrolled."

Wanda took off her sunglasses. "I do not yet have a motorcycle. If I take the class now, I could forget it all by the time I can get one and have to take it again."

The man's smile grew wider. "No problem. What part of Hollywood do you live in?"

"I'm only visiting."

"More good luck for you. We have several loaners for our customers to use while their machine is being repaired. I'd be happy to let you borrow one for the duration of your stay."

Armin's generosity was more than she planned for when she hit him with her psionics. "In that case, Armin, sign me up."

While waiting for the class to start, Wanda found a shop up the street at which she could exchange her beachwear and flip-flops for clothing more suited to riding a motorcycle. By the time she paid for her purchases, it was nearly time. She put on her sunglasses and made tracks for the shop.

 **Las Vegas**

 **Out o' Sight Motel**

A tall man with shaggy hair and a serious expression sat in front of a laptop scrolling through messages, sending the majority of them to the spam file. A beep drew his attention to a flashing icon in the lower left corner. He clicked on it and read the message, looking up as another man joined him, his excitement barely contained.

He clapped his hands. "Let's go. Don't wanna be late."

"In a minute." The tall man looked up. "Remember that program I installed on Jerry's site?"

The other man nodded. "Yeah. What about it?"

"We finally got a hit. Someone's logged onto the site five times over the last two days from the same coffee shop in Sandy Shores, California." He gave him a sympathetic frown. "He or she was looking for information on ghosts. How to get rid of an evil ghost and how to put good ghosts to rest."

Waving a pair of tickets, the stockier man exclaimed, "No! We're seeing Cirque Du Soleil tonight. The curtain, or whatever, goes up in," he looked at his watch, "seventy-three minutes. I've been wantin' to see this like forever. The ghosts have been around a while. They can wait another night." He could see his companion wavering. "I'll let you drive to the Nevada-California border" he wheedled.

Giving in gracefully, the tall man closed the laptop, picked up his jacket and followed his companion out, taking care to lock up and set their personal alarm. "You better not renege on your promise to let me drive the first leg of the trip."

"I _won't_."

His words didn't sound sincere. "You've got your fingers crossed behind your back, don't you?"

Caught out, he had the good sense to be embarrassed. "Okay, _fine_. You can drive." He held up one finger. "Just till we hit California."

"Deal."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

The bike's engine sputtered to a halt. The rider used the left heel to put the kickstand down and swung the right leg over. The chin strap came undone and the helmet was pulled off to reveal Wanda's self-satisfied smile. After the class, Armin let her have her pick of the loaners. Shortly thereafter, she drove off the lot astride a Moto Guzzi V7 Stone, black and chrome, five-speed, four-stroke Italian bike.

After retrieving her bag from the storage compartment, she tucked the helmet under one arm, practically strutting through the lobby in her jeans, black boots and denim jacket, enjoying the curious stares from the guests and staff. She stopped in her tracks when a familiar voice called to her.

"Wanda?"

Taking off the glasses as she turned, Wanda gave Aaron a long stare. "What are you doing here? We no longer have anything to say to each other."

Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, he slowly approached, an awkward half-smile on his face. "Wanted to apologize for this morning." He gestured at the front desk. "They wouldn't even admit you were staying here."

"That information is, of course, confidential."

"Yeah." His shoulders went up around his ears and down. "Had to try. Not that I wanna stalk you or anything."

She let the sincerity in his voice make her decision, and led him to the corner farthest from the desk. "Go ahead."

"I…" Aaron looked down at his feet in embarrassment, "I'm really sorry for what I said about your nephew. Didn't mean to insult either one of you. It was my clumsy way of flirting, I guess. Not a big success."

Tilting her head to the side, she gauged his expression as it related to the words, and felt that he was telling the truth without the use of her psionics. "You meant what you said to be a… pick-up line?" At his nod, she continued. "To prove you wrong, I would then share videos of my nephew performing as a sort of bonding gesture." Again, he nodded. "Then I too am sorry for overreacting." She pulled out her phone, accessed the videos and patted the seat next to her. Aaron changed seats, watching the video over her shoulder.

When the video ended, he smiled and bumped her shoulder with his. "He's awesome! Hope he wins this thing."

"As does our family." Before she could over think her decision, Wanda laid her hand on Aaron's knee. "Will you have dinner with me?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. When? I'm off the next couple of days."

Wanda stood up and he came up next to her showing that he was only a few inches taller. "Tonight. I will change my clothes, if you do not mind waiting."

His smile said that all they'd gone through, such as it was, had been worth the trouble. "Don't change. Let's go somewhere casual." He nodded at the bike, which could be seen through the front window. "We can take the Goose."

Confused, she stared at him as if he were speaking gibberish. "Goose?"

"Your bike. It's a Moto Guzzi, a Goose."

"Ah. That is an inventive nickname." Aaron picked up her helmet, reminding her that it was the only one she had. "I don't have another."

This time, his grin was close to a smirk. "Got my own." He moved her to the side and pointed to another bike parked near hers. "It's a Suzuki DR 200. Used to belong to my brother until he left for Stanford. Me, I chose to stay local for my higher education."

"You are in college?"

"Yeah. First year. Summer break is coming up in May."

It was Wanda's turn to smile. "What a coincidence. My brother and I will be turning eighteen in May."

From his expression, Aaron knew that revealing her age meant that she expected the same from him, and he didn't disappoint this time. "Just turned twenty last week. Too bad you missed it."

"Yes, it is." Though his expression didn't change, Wanda sudden got the sense that he wanted to kiss her. Instead of taking him up on his offer, she stepped back and handed him her helmet. "I will take my bag to the room and be right back."

He gave her another of the charming smiles he always seemed to wear. "I'll be here."

 **La Cocina de la Abuela**

 **Marina Del Rey**

"The Mazatlan combination, please," Wanda told the server. "Also, one of the White Honey Sangrias, without the rum."

" _Si_ , a virgin White Honey Sangria for the _señorita_." He turned to Aaron. "And you, _señor_?"

Aaron laid the menu aside, saying in Spanish, "The Guadalajara combo, please. No lettuce on the taco. I'll a virgin White Honey Sangria too."

The man inclined his head. " _Gracias_." He picked up the menus and walked toward the kitchen.

Wanda was impressed. "You speak Spanish?"

He shrugged one shoulder modestly and picked up his water glass. "High school Spanish, mostly. Learned some from friends." He sipped the water and set the glass on the napkin. "What about you?"

"Besides English, I speak Sokovian, which is close enough to Russian that I can make myself understood, some German and a bit of Czech."

"Impressive."

She smiled, suddenly shy that they were talking about her. "My brother and I learned English from watching American movies. Since becoming citizens, we have discovered that some of what we learned was erroneous. When we use a phrase or American slang incorrectly, it creates much laughter, especially in the family." She reached for a chip and dipped it in the salsa. "Nearly everyone speaks at least two languages, except for the younger children. Mother speaks six fluently, including ASL, and can make herself understood in several others. Father, I believe he speaks four, as well as ASL. Pietro and I are learning ASL as we have a niece and nephew who are deaf."

Crunching the chip, Wanda noticed Aaron glancing around the room. In her experience, most young men his age are watching the pretty girls instead of paying full attention to their dates. Because of this belief, she was surprised when he nodded over her shoulder. "Turn around, slowly. See that guy sitting by the window?"

"Do you know him?"

"He's my brother-in-law, but that's _not_ my sister's hand he's holding, or her lips he's kissing."

That gave her an idea on how to make amends for overreacting to Aaron's attempt to flirt. "Will you tell her?" Again, his shoulders went up around his ears and down. "Do you want to move or perhaps go somewhere else?"

He shook his head. "I'm good. Well, not good, but I'll be okay. They've been married less than a year and have been talking about buying a house."

"It's not my place to say this, but I would want to know before making such an important decision." Wanda touched the back of his hand where it fussed with the corner of the napkin under the water glass. "I'll be right back."

It was fortunate that the path to the bathrooms went past his brother-in-law's table. As she approached, Wanda stumbled and dropped her purse.

The man bent down to pick it up for her, barely giving her a glance. "Here you go."

"Thank you." They touched briefly. Just long enough for her to transfer a small amount of psionic energy to him through the skin on the back of his hand. She kept walking toward the bathrooms, turning to see her handiwork in action.

The man blinked a few times, grabbed his jacket and stood. The woman stood too, confusion in her eyes. Without looking at her, he put his jacket on, speaking in a day-dreamy voice, "We can't see each other anymore."

He left the restaurant just as the server brought their food. The woman looked angry and uncertain at the same time.

Wanda went into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later to see the woman still sitting there poking at her food with a fork. Mentally patting herself on the back, she made her way back to the table where she found Aaron on the phone. From what she could hear, he was talking to his sister.

He ended the call and laid the phone on the table. "Well, _that_ was awkward. Apparently, sis already knew and is in the process of tossing his shi-, uh, stuff in the yard. Won't _he_ be surprised when he gets home?"

"Good for her. No woman deserves to have a man or a woman who cheats on her." Wanda's phone rang, dread seeping into her brain at the name of the person calling. It was now or never. "Do you mind if I get this? I won't be gone long."

"Not at all."

Before he finished speaking, Wanda was nearly to the door. Outside, she pulled her jacket tighter against the evening chill and swiped the answer icon. Taking a breath, she put the phone to her ear. "I am glad you called, Xiaoli. We must talk."

 **TBC**

Rooh Afza - red rose water beverage.

Aloo Chaat - A street food originating from the Indian subcontinent, it is popular in North India, Pakistan and also in parts of Sylhet and West Bengal. It is prepared by frying potatoes in oil and adding spices and chutney.

Tandoori Malai Bater - A Tandoori dish made with quail.

Chicken Madras - A specialty from the backwaters of south India. Chicken cooked in coconut curry sauce.

Dal Makhani A popular dish from the Punjab region of the Indian subcontinent. The primary ingredients are whole black lentil ( _urad_ ), red kidney beans ( _rajma_ ), butter and cream. The dish gets its richness from the use of cream, but it can also be prepared with yogurt, milk or no dairy.

Indian Saffron Rice - Basmati rice made with saffron

Baingan ka Bharta - Stir-fried eggplant

La Cocina de la Abuela- Grandma's Kitchen


	144. Chapter 144

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains content not suitable for anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you're under the age of twenty-one and read it anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 144**

Through the window, Aaron watched his brother-in-law's girlfriend walk to her car carrying a bag of leftover food. When she was gone, he turned his head, keeping his eyes on Wanda pacing as she talked on the phone. With her hair hanging loose, he couldn't see her face, leaving him filled with speculation on who was on the other end.

She stopped, shut the phone off and stood there for a moment. Aaron rushed back to the table, so she wouldn't think he'd been spying when it hadn't been his intent. His thought had been to confront the girlfriend, but then realized it wasn't his place. That was reserved for his sister.

Wanda returned within moments. She slid into her seat, scooted up to the table and placed her napkin in her lap, giving him an odd smile. It didn't look forced or false. More as if she'd let go of something that had been holding her back, and now she was free to move on without guilt or regrets. "Everything okay?"

She didn't even think about it, finding in his favor. "Yes. Fine."

A server brought their food, placing sizzling plates in front of them from which some of Aaron's favorite aromas emanated. "Good. You were gone so long I thought you changed your mind about dinner."

"As it was _I_ who issued the invitation, I would not have, what is the saying?"

"Cut and run?"

She cut a piece of tamale and speared it with a fork. "Doing so would have been ill-mannered and disrespectful. For years, my brother and I were treated poorly by the people who live in my village. Promises were made, many of which were never kept. Since coming to America, I have found that there are even more here than at home who behave as such. If not for our adoptive parents and the family that came as a… package deal? We might never have known that there were also a great number of kind and compassionate people in the world."

Aaron mixed his rice and refried beans together and scooped up a huge bite. "Am I included in that description?"

The smile Wanda gave him was sweet and heartfelt. "You are. It is _I_ who was at fault. Pietro and I have only had each other on whom to rely, until our adoption. And now, we have many others for whom we would…" she shook her head. "Excuse me. I cannot remember the words."

"Go to the mattresses?"

Her eyes lit up, turning the mossy green to the color of milky jade in the overhead light. "Yes. As you may have guessed by my presence here with him, Justin and I have a special bond. And my brother and I have learned so many new idioms we sometimes use them incorrectly or in the wrong situation."

He returned her smile. "Don't worry about it. I find your accent and word choices charming."

"Thank you. Could we talk about something else?" Nodding, he chewed while she decided on the next subject. "Tell me about college. My brother and I are hoping to apply within the year, and I would like to have some idea of what to expect."

"I can help you there. The first thing you do is choose a major, your main course of study. Math, literature, business, medicine, engineering, whatever. Some universities require a minor as well." The intensity with which Wanda was watching him made his mouth go dry. He gulped down half the glass of water to ease his parched throat. "Once you've made a choice, pick the college or university with the best curriculum for your subject, plus two or three others, just in case. Once you're accepted comes the choice of online or brick and mortar." Aaron gave her a moment in case the term confused her, but she merely chewed and motioned for him to continue. "Personally, I do a combination. Most of my classes are online, with labs done on campus."

The server took their empty drink glasses and replaced them with fresh ones. Wanda sipped hers, all the while keeping her eyes focused on him. It was a bit disconcerting, but he pushed through. Or tried to. The drinks contained non-alcoholic sangria, and the color clung to her lips, turning them an enticing shade of dark red. If she were a local, his first thought would be that she was attempting to seduce him. But he knew that wasn't her intent. She was interested in what he was saying. That's all. Guileless, maybe even a bit naïve, is how he thought of her.

"What is your major?"

"Forensic chemistry and forensic toxicology. Going for a dual PhD. A forensic chemist can assist in identifying unknown materials, such as those found at a crime scene. Forensic toxicology identifies things like powders, trace residue, chemicals and other toxic substances. That's all being a barista is, really. Chemistry. Lofty dreams, I know."

Wanda cut a piece of her tamale, added guacamole and sour cream. "Not at all. Another movie that Pietro and I saw had a song that speaks to such events. 'Don't dream it. Be it.'" She scrunched her eyebrows together. "I have never understood why they were singing in a pool."

Aaron picked the lettuce out of his taco to keep from looking at her because then he'd bust out. "Here's a hint: The Brits are stranger than Americans. The movie you're talking about was written by British singer and actor Richard O'Brien. He combined his love of science fiction and B horror movies. He wrote the songs and even played a part in the movie, Riff Raff."

"I did not know this. He is one of my favorite characters."

"That's so weird!"

Her smile was back. "He is your favorite too?"

Unable to keep a straight face, Aaron chuckled. "Not really. I was more of a Columbia guy. That girl _really_ couldn't dance."

"I'm sure it was planned that way to make it more humorous." Wanda finished off the last of her enchilada with poblano sour cream sauce, wiped her mouth and laid the napkin next to her plate. The server must have been watching because he was suddenly at the table taking their dishes.

"Would _señorita_ care for dessert?"

Wanda picked up her glass of virgin sangria. "Not just yet, thank you."

Aaron shoved the last of his taco in his mouth and handed his plate to the server. The man left and they were alone again. He finished his water, wiped his mouth and laid the napkin aside to pick up the check. Wanda snatched it out of his hand. " _I_ invited _you_. It is my responsibility to pay the charges."

"How about we split it?"

"A compromise. I would be agreeable to that arrangement."

Wanda laid half plus a few dollars for the tip on the table. Aaron added his half, took a copy of the bill and shoved it in his pocket. They stood, and he helped her on with her jacket. "What next?"

"Justin told me that walking on the beach at night would be a pleasant experience."

He handed over her helmet and put on his own. "It's _more_ than pleasant. Let's drop the Goose at your hotel and walk from there."

~~O~~

By the time they returned to the hotel, the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. They left their helmets with the front desk and headed out. At the end of the wooden walkway, they took off their shoes, leaving them behind a bush so they wouldn't have to carry them and turned in the direction of the flickering flames.

Wanda loved the smell of the burning wood and the how the wind blew her hair away from her face. She and Aaron passed many small fires, some with only two people, and others with many more. Before long, they came to a group of people about Aaron's age. To her, it seemed sacrilegious to mar the serenity of the night with drunken laughter and loud music.

The group waved, inviting them to join in, but they just kept walking until they could barely hear the music. They came to a huge pile of rocks that had been scattered over the sand millennia ago, and worn smooth by the constant passage of seawater.

Within the rocks was a small cove-like area that provided a quiet place to dig their toes in the sand and watch the sky. The scene, lit only by the moon and the lights from a nearby hotel, had a surreal aspect.

Earlier, she hadn't wanted to be close enough to Aaron for him to kiss her, but as they were walking, she found herself taking his hand. They looked at each other, smiled and kept walking.

Inexperienced in dating anyone but Xiaoli, she wasn't sure how to go about encouraging him to kiss her, so she took the initiative. He released her hand after helping her over the slippery surfaces. She used that same palm to turn him to face her and press their lips together. It was the same yet different than kissing Xiaoli, but not in a bad way. Just different. With Xiaoli, she knew that kissing was all she wanted. Nothing more. But with Aaron, she could feel the restraint, the holding back, waiting for her to let him know what she wanted.

Using knowledge gained from watching movies, the deepening that involved the tongue, she didn't so much as invite as command him to respond in kind. And when he did, her blood heated, and she could feel the same from him. As much as she still cared about Xiaoli, not once had she experienced this level of… she wasn't sure what to call it. Her body felt hot and tingly, especially where Aaron's hands moved over her back through the material of her shirt. As she did the same to him, his body felt as if it were about to catch on fire, and she with him.

And when she made a move she was certain would be accepted, he separated their mouths, the moistness of their breath filling the small space between them. "Wanda…"

She placed a finger over his lips to stop him speaking, quickly replacing it with her mouth once more. Her knees became unsteady, and together, they sank to the sand.

 **Red Moon Tavern**

As the next day was their day off, the contestants made the decision to also take the night off from their secret project and just go have fun. After a bit of persuasion, Amara called to tell her mother she would be back to the hotel sometime after midnight. Justin was proud of the way she made it a statement instead of a question. When she hung up, she stared at the phone for a long moment and put it away.

Justin circulated the room, stopping at the bar for a refill on his beer.

Morgan came up next to him, both men leaning on the bar, watching the crowd move and interact. Only a few couples were dancing, none of them a part of their ragtag group. Kimberly joined them, perching on the only empty chair with her legs crossed, sipping from a glass of ginger ale.

Morgan took a drink of beer and set the glass on the counter. Huffing, he nodded at one of the young women from another team. She was talking and laughing with a man from yet another team, touching him on the arm and smiling flirtatiously. Annoyed, he said to Justin, "What does _he_ have that _I_ don't?"

With a twinkle in her eyes, Kimberly quipped, "A date tonight?"

Justin made a sizzling sound. He held up an invisible microphone and put a hand to his ear, using his radio announcer's voice. "Feel the _burn_ , ladies and gentlemen. One worthy of repeating. Let's go to the instant replay. Kimberly?"

"You are so right, Justin!" She waved her hands to indicate a video rewinding. "A date tonight?"

"Ha. Ha. I'm _serious_. I've asked out _three_ different women competing on the show. I was charming and sincere in my desire to get to know them better. Why shoot me down?"

Ticking the points off, Kimberly stated, "Off hand: you're arrogant, narrow-minded, and condescending to people who don't live up to your exacting standards. And that thing you call charm, not so much." She raised her hands in surrender. "Or maybe they think you're gay."

Justin nearly spit out his beer at the look on Morgan's face. The song ended, and another came on, grating on his nerves. "That's _it_. This place is boring. We should've gone to the bar at the hotel." He shoved a hand in his pants pocket.

"I know that look, Justin. What're you gonna do?" Kimberly wanted to know. Morgan just made a snort of disdain and faced the mirror, drinking his beer and brooding.

"Dunno yet, but there's gotta be better music on that machine than _this_ crap." He slapped a bill on the counter and the bartender quickly exchanged it for singles.

The dancers returned to their tables, leaving the floor wide open. Canned music filled the air when no one ponied up a buck for the next song. Was the owner _trying_ to go out of business?

To Morgan and Kimberly, Justin whispered, "Wait for my cue. You'll know what to do." He winked. "Follow my lead, Morgan, ol' pal, and we'll have a woman on you in no time." At the other man's jaw-drop, he patted him on the shoulder and left him staring.

Justin weaved between the tables to the juke box, leaning on the curved top while perusing the offerings. "Geez, no wonder no one wants to dance." His eyes lit up when he saw the last song in the bottom right corner. An older man sitting alone peeked over his arm. To him, Justin said, "Wanna do me a big favor, friend?"

The man snickered. "If you can bring some life back inta this mausoleum, sure."

He handed him the stack of ones and pointed to the song. "Gimme a minute and start that one. When it ends, wait exactly two minutes, and start it again, over and over, until I tell you to stop, or you run out of money."

As inconspicuously as possible, Justin moved over to the dance floor to lean against one of the posts where he could see Morgan and Kimberly waiting expectantly. He winked, and Morgan put his beer down, clearing for action. Kimberly set her drink next to his and got to her feet.

Right on cue, Justin's new friend dropped a buck into the machine. He let the room get into the song before joining in. Taking his cues from John Travolta, he raised his hands, moving them in circles, adding in a little shoulder action. Letting the music seep into his brain, he swayed side to side as he moved out onto floor, dancing as if no one were watching.

 _Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain, chain, chain)  
Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain, chain, chain)  
Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain, chain, chain)  
(Chain of fools)_

Turning in small circles, he made gentle arm movements, slowly increasing the size of both until he was spinning.

 _For five long years  
I thought you were my man_

His eyes searched out his confederates, making a "come here" gesture. Getting into the song too, Kimberly did a step, hip-bump on each foot until she was in front of him facing away, making the same movements as he. Morgan followed, putting his own spin on the steps, getting behind him, doing the same.

 _But I found out, I'm just a link in your chain  
Oh, you got me where you want me_

 _I ain't nothin' but your fool  
_

As if they'd rehearsed it, the trio faced forward, moving in sync. Justin backed up as his companions turned with Kimberly's back to Morgan's front. His hand went around her waist. Bending their left knees, they did a different style of hip-bump, shifting their weight left to right with the beat. 

_Ya treated me mean_

 _Oh, you treated me cruel_

Justin moved around them, stopping in front. Again, as if it were planned, Morgan and Kimberly separated, taking their places on either side. Hands shoulder height, fingers curled into the palms, they moved forward, dipping their shoulders in a sort of strutting walk. Step, twist, dip, step, twist, dip.

 _Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain, chain, chain  
Chain of fools)_

Making it up from there, Justin was pleased to see the trio now had the attention of everyone in the room. Even the bouncer was watching.

 _Every chain, has got a weak link  
I might be weak child, but I'll give you strength  
Oh, babe_

 _(Woo, woo, woo, woo)  
You told me to leave you alone  
My father said 'Come on home'  
My doctor said 'Take it easy'_  
 _Oh, but your lovin is just too strong  
_

 _(Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo)  
I'm added to your  
Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain, chain, chain)  
Chain, chain, chain  
(Chain chain, chain)_

 _Oh, one of these mornings  
The chain is gonna break  
But up until the day  
I'm gonna take all I can take, oh babe_

One by one, the other contestants as well as the patrons, edged up to the dance floor, swaying in time to the music. A few more run-throughs and they'd all be on the floor with him then he could skip out and go back to the hotel a little early.

 _(Chain, chain, chain, chain, chain, chain, chain)  
(Chain, chain, chain)  
Oh-oh!  
(Chain, chain, chain, -ain, ain, ain, ain)  
Your chain of fools_

The song ended. Justin grabbed Kimberly and Morgan's hands, and they took a bow to the applause. When the song started again, the dance floor was stampeded, everyone clamoring for him to repeat.

"We're gonna do it a little different this time, okay?" Everyone cheered. "Keep your eyes on me. Don't worry if you don't get it right. We're just having fun. No one's being graded." He gave the group a quick check, and the song started again.

 **Sandy Shores Beach**

The kissing and touching felt amazing, even through the thin material of their clothes. Like nothing Wanda had ever experienced before. Then, as her hands were fumbling with the buttons on the front of Aaron's shirt, they were hit by an enormous wave, soaking them to the skin. The water was cold enough to douse the fire smoldering inside them. They held onto each other and laughed.

As the water withdrew and prepared for a second attack, they scrambled to their feet, just managing to get to the other side of the rocks before another wave slammed into the spot where they'd been. Wet and cold, she shivered the whole long walk back to the hotel, even with Aaron's arm around her shoulders, and hers on his waist.

No words were exchanged until they reached the deck behind the hotel. "You cannot go home in wet clothes, Aaron. Come to my room. Take a hot shower, and I will give you something of my nephew's to wear."

Aaron hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Wanda crossed her arms, fighting another shiver, and shifted her weight onto one foot. "And if you become sick from riding in the chill wind, will I have to bear the blame?"

"No, never." She tilted her head to the side, letting silence help him decide. His shoulders sagged. "You're right." He opened the door, ushering her in ahead of him. They picked up their helmets from the desk and got into the elevator.

As the elevator reached the tenth floor, Wanda assured him, "When I asked you to dinner, making out is _not_ what I had in mind."

A smirk turned up one side of his mouth. "Still, you gotta admit it was better than dessert."

Helmet in one hand and shoes in the other, she got him in a hug, kissing him as she had on the beach. She pulled back and they shared sheepish smiles. "I do not want you to forget how it felt."

He snorted. "No chance of that."

The elevator doors opened, they got out, and Wanda led the way to the room. Inside, she went to Justin's closet and took out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "The bathroom is there."

Aaron accepted the clothes but didn't move. "Mom taught me to be a gentleman." He gestured for her to go first.

Taking his offering, Wanda collected her pajamas and enclosed herself in the bathroom.

~~O~~

Wanda came out to find that Aaron had turned on the heat. She thanked him with a smile. "I will have a hot drink sent up while you're showering."

The door closed behind him, and Wanda stood there listening to the water splashing, wondering what it was like to bathe with another person. Not like a parent and young child, as she had heard was sometimes done, but as two people who shared an intense physical attraction.

Until Aaron asked to sit with her that morning, she had not once entertained the idea of having dinner with him or even thought of asking his name. But when he showed up at her hotel to apologize for something that was her fault, she suddenly had the urge to be closer to him. And when she sensed that he wanted to kiss her, it made her realize that she wanted it too, but couldn't allow it to happen while the situation with Xiaoli was still unresolved. Now that they were no longer a couple, she was free to do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted, provided, as Natasha advised, precautions were taken.

She picked up the phone and dialed room service. "Room 2104… Please send up a pot of hot water and tea, honey, lemon, and milk, and some cookies… Thank you."

The shower shut off just as there was a knock at the door. Wanda had the server set the tray on the table. She signed the check and closed the door just as Aaron came out of the bathroom. His hair was still wet, and the clothes stuck to his damp body. She tore her gaze from him, and he came to sit next to her on the sofa, dropping the plastic bag containing his wet clothes on the floor at his feet.

Before she could do so, he added a tea bag to both cups and poured hot water over them. "How do you take it?"

"A spoonful of honey, please."

He added the honey, put the spoon in the cup and passed it to her. She watched him making his own, admiring his simple movements. He gave his cup a vigorous stir, removed the bag, and took a sip. To forestall conversation, Wanda did the same, while searching for a safe subject to discuss, and coming up with nothing.

Wanda set the cup on the table and uncovered the tray of cookies, offering it to Aaron. He chose a chocolate chip, broke it, and gave her half. To her, it felt more intimate than touching each other. And now that she thought about it, seeing Natasha and Bucky doing simple, domestic things such as drinking tea, eating cookies and they way they smiled at each other also felt intimate. Even something as simple as folding clothes together.

With Xiaoli, there had been none of that. Whether alone or in a group, at one or the other's homes, or in public, they had only held hands and danced at the Halloween party, and that had been precipitated by Justin. On several occasions, they had kissed while sitting together on the side of the bed or on the sofa only when Xiaoli knew no one would see them.

Eventually, Wanda came to the conclusion that Xiaoli was either ashamed of her romantic feelings for women instead of men, for her in particular, or both. She did not want to be a source of shame and conflicting emotions for anyone, man or woman, and that had been the source of their disagreement. Xiaoli's brother knew of their association, but her parents did not, and she steadfastly refused to tell them.

During the phone call, Xiaoli had begged Wanda's forgiveness, which she'd given without a second thought. Xiaoli then said she wanted them to be together in every way possible, yet still refused to speak to her parents. Under the circumstances, Wanda could not continue their romantic association, and told her so, freeing them both to pursue other relationships, if they so desired.

Pushing the recent past away, Wanda nibbled the cookie, still unable to come up with a neutral subject for conversation.

Aaron drank the last of his tea and stood. "I should get home."

Giving him a flirty smile, Wanda murmured, "If you must."

As if in slow motion, they went into each other arms, hugging longer than necessary. Wanda leaned back to see his face and smiled to encourage him to kiss her. He did, moving apart almost immediately. They held hands as she walked him to the door.

 **Morning**

Through eyes barely open, Wanda watched Justin get out of bed, stretch, scratch his stomach, and yawn as he shuffled into the bathroom. He came out dressed in his workout clothes and sat on the side of the bed to put his sneakers on.

"Where are you going, nephew?"

Without turning around, he said over his shoulder, "For a run. Wanna go with, auntie?"

"Another time, thank you. I think I'll stay in bed a while longer."

He grabbed his iPod and room key from the bedside table. "Your loss. Later, Gator."

Wanda stared at the door in case he came back, and when he didn't, the covers were pushed out of the way and Aaron, spooned against her back, rose up on one elbow. "Think he knew I was here?"

"With Justin, it is difficult to tell what he does and doesn't notice for he will not always say or make it known what he has seen or heard."

"O-kay." He snuggled her close, urging her onto her back, and she was a willing participant. "Morning, Wanda."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close for a long, passionate kiss. "Good morning, Aaron. What shall we…"

He ducked back under the covers and Wanda curled herself around the lump he made when Justin came back into the room. She closed her eyes, creating the illusion that she was about to fall back asleep. Her eyes popped open when Justin reached over and yanked the covers down, exposing Aaron's head and shoulders.

"When I get back, we'll have breakfast and you can introduce me to your new friend," her nephew deadpanned. "Clothing is _not_ optional."

~~O~~

The door slammed again, and Aaron was relieved that Wanda's nephew hadn't dragged his ass out of bed and beaten him to a bloody pulp. The look in her eyes said she felt the same, and they dissolved into laughter that turned to something more.

Aaron pulled her close, covering her gasp with his mouth at the sensation of their bare skin rubbing, the friction causing all sorts of ideas to wash through his head. He kissed her until she was breathless and proceeded to please her in every way possible in the short time they had left before Justin returned from his run.

~~O~~

Unbeknownst to Wanda and her guest, Eva and King had come looking for her. They stumbled to a halt at the scene before them, and Eva hid her face in King's neck. "Oh, my word!" King also averted his eyes. However, they didn't leave immediately. Gathering her courage, Eva lifted her eyes, watching the couple on the bed more out of curiosity than voyeuristic intent. "They're quite…"

"Athletic," King suggested, and she agreed. The covers slid onto the floor, allowing them to see everything. "Oh, good _lord_! What on earth…" Wanda gasped, her hands gripping the young man's shoulders. King got a thoughtful look on his face. "Hmm. I've never _once_ thought of doing that to a woman."

Taking a step forward, Eva tilted her head in thought. "She seems to enjoy it." Touching him on the chest, Eva indicated to King that they should go. "Keep it in mind, should we ever get the chance to… Oh!"

This time, Eva and King both turned away, embarrassed that they'd continued to watch in the first place. They vanished from the room to reappear on the roof, taking a seat on the steps.

King put a hand to his mouth, thinking, no doubt about the scene they'd witnessed, just as she was. He made a few false starts before saying haltingly, "I suppose, when you think about it logically, it's only fair that…"

"There should be an… equitable exchange of…"

"…services."

They sat quietly for a long time. Once they both relaxed and had come to terms with what they'd seen, Eva ventured, "If we're given the chance, we should try it. Just to… appease our…"

"…curiosity?"

Covering her face with both hands, elbows on her knees, Eva groaned. " _How_ are we ever going to be able to look her in the eyes again?"

King pulled her close to his side. "You are an excellent actress, darling. Peerless in your ability to bring a fictional character to life with nothing more than a brief description. Had you not perished, I feel certain that you would have been graced with every award available to those in the acting profession. You _will_ prevail!"

She smiled at him with affection. "You're too kind, King. And I love you for it."

 **Novi Grad**

 **HYDRA Base**

 **Sokovia**

List clamped his teeth together and turned his back to keep from hurling curses at von Strucker's back as he stormed from their shared office. Hardly a day went by that his partner didn't bring up the fact that he'd been in charge of getting the twins back and had failed. Trickery was not a method that worked out well, in von Stucker's estimation. However, their only other alternative had been to send Subject 497 after them. There was a third contingency but it would be kept in reserve for an extreme emergency.

At no time did his partner in this venture share _why_ he wanted the twins, though his thought was that he would use them to entice the former Winter Soldier into returning in order have a fresh supply of his blood with which to compare the genetic changes to 497 to see where the next step would take them. The ease with which the Winter Soldier had returned to his original personality spoke of a flaw that must be rectified before 497 could be sent on any of the more sensitive missions they had planned for him.

An engine started up in the courtyard, and List saw von Strucker drive out through the massive gate that was the most visible protection against intrusion. With the force field in place, there was no need for it. But the castle itself was quite old and in the beginning, when they had first taken refuge within these walls, it had given both men a physical manifestation of their sense of superiority. They were the "kings", the reigning monarchs, if you will, of HYDRA, and as such, deserved a base of operations that showed this to the world.

He turned from the window, wanting to hit something or hurl the breakables at the walls, the sound of shattering glass and ceramic filling him with amusement and comfort at the same time.

The gates closed behind von Strucker, leaving him in charge. He touched the headset in his right ear. "This is List. Prepare 497 for his first mission."

" _It will be done, Dr. List. Where will we be sending him?_ "

The man on the other end seemed to be humoring him. List glared though he couldn't be seen. "That is confidential and at _my_ discretion. The destination will be given only to the pilot once we're prepared for take-off." He paused to give his next words the proper weight. "Dr. von Stucker is _not_ to be informed of this mission. Is that understood?"

There was a pause on the other end, as if the man were consulting his superior. " _Yes, Dr. List. Hail HYDRA_."

Smiling at last, List made himself comfortable in the chair von Strucker reserved for himself, placed his feet on the corner of the desk, crossed at the ankles. "Soon, HYDRA will have the leader it deserves. And that is not a _schlappschwanz_ like you, Wolfgang. Soon, the Winter Soldier will be ours once again, and this time, he will not escape. We will destroy his original personality, and he will serve us for many decades to come."

 **TBC**

The phrase "go to the mattresses" is a quote from Maria Puzo's novel, _The Godfather_ , originally published in 1969, and is not a foreshadowing of the events that follow.

 _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ is a 1975 musical science-fiction horror-comedy film by 20th Century Fox produced by Lou Adler and Michael White and directed by Jim Sharman. The screenplay was written by Sharman and actor Richard O'Brien, who is also a member of the cast. The film is based on the 1973 musical stage production _The Rocky Horror Show_ , with music, book, and lyrics by O'Brien. The production is a parody tribute to the science fiction and horror B movies of the 1930s through to the early 1970s.

"Chain of Fools" is a song written by Don Covay. Aretha Franklin first released the song as a single in 1967.

Schlappschwanz = literally, a relaxed (non-energetic) tail. In German _schwanz_ is also a common word for cock. So, a _schlappschwanz_ would literally mean a limp cock. Germans use this word as an insult to mean a wimp or a wuss, a quitter, a pansy, a coward.


	145. Chapter 145

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 145**

 **Alexandria, Virginia**

"It's a _surprise_."

Natasha adjusted the seat belt more comfortably around her swollen abdomen. "You _do_ remember I'm pregnant, right? If you scare me, I could go into premature labor."

Bucky laughed out loud. "I love the way your nose crinkles when you're being funny."

Suppressing another huff, she looked out the window. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?"

He reached over to take her hand. "I thought 'it's a surprise' explained the situation quite well."

The light changed, and Bucky made a left turn into the parking lot of an event auditorium. A huge banner hung over the main entrance: _Welcome to the Knife and Gun Show!_

Until today, Natasha had always attended these events with Clint or Hill, or alone.

Bucky paid for parking and drove where directed by the attendants. It was early enough that they had a decent spot not too far from the entrance. "Oh, I love you for enabling me, James."

"I want you to be happy, Tasha. Coming to these shows makes you happy, so, here we are."

~~O~~

Holding Natasha's hand, Bucky let her lead the way. To his relief, there were benches strategically placed throughout the auditorium where she could sit and rest when she got tired. An hour later, she'd purchased several knives, throwing spikes that strapped to her thigh or calves, three kubotans, and several other weapons. When asked about them, all she would say was, "gifts".

In that hour, not once had he been successful in convincing her to rest. His lovely wife was like a kid in a candy shop when it came to her weapons. Bucky was brought out of his musing at Natasha's gasp. "What's wrong?"

She rushed forward to run her fingers over the stocks and barrels of the weapons displayed, her voice soft and dreamy. "Oh, James, look at all the pretties!"

Rolling his eyes and smiling uncomfortably at passersby who stopped to stare, he whispered over his shoulder, "Would you _please_ stop talking about assault rifles the same way most women talk about shoes?"

The side of her mouth facing him turned up in a rueful smile. "Relax, husband. It's my nature."

"I know, but strangers are giving us funny looks. Not sure if it's the fact that you're eight months pregnant and testing the weight, balance and sighting of assault rifles when most women would be buying baby clothes and furniture, or that I'm carrying all these packages while you do it."

"Probably both." Her fingers passed longingly over the length of the Stag-15 Model 4L's barrel, specifically designed for lefties. "Could've used this in Barbados." She sighed, and wrapped her hand around his lower bicep, turning him away from the booth before she lost her will power and bought it. "There are between ten and twelve million of those in circulation, and that's just in the U.S."

Letting mild sarcasm enter his tone, Bucky reminded her, "Gee, I wouldn't know _anything_ about assault rifles. I was only in the military for _four_ decades."

"Oh. Right." Her chin came up, their eyes meeting. "Let's find the food court. I need to pee and eat, in that order."

Heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief, Bucky quipped, "Thank goodness. I thought you were gonna do both at once."

She stuck her tongue out at him on the way to the bathroom, while he found them a table and looked over the menu, though calling it a menu would be generous. It consisted of a lighted sign with plastic numbers and letters, none of which matched. He made a choice, such as it was, and opened the bag with the gifts.

Holding up the maduvu, a weapon favored by silambam artists, in his mind, he saw himself using something similar, but didn't remember when that could've been. It consisted of two crossbars from which two "horns" pointed in opposite directions. Originally, it was thought to have been a defensive weapon of convenience for ancient Muslim and Hindu ascetics and mendicants, who were not permitted to carry traditional weapons.

A bag within the bag contained several kakute, spiked rings used by ninjas, a urumi, a flexible sword whip, and a few others. He knew what they were and could see himself using something similar yet more high-tech without recalling the exact circumstances. Letting his mind observe the scenes from an objective point of view, Bucky admired the way his unreal self handled the unconventional, to this century, weapons.

He heard Natasha coming toward him, and quickly shoved everything back in the bag. "Know what you want, Tasha?"

"The usual."

Bucky went to the counter and returned a few minutes later with one bacon cheeseburger, one double bacon cheese burger, an order of fries for them to share, lemonade for her, coffee for him, and a churro to share.

Natasha removed the top of her bun to add yellow mustard, ketchup and mayo. "A gun and knife show, bacon burger, fries, and thee by my side. You really know how to show a girl a good time, Barnes." She set the last bottle aside, grabbed Bucky by the lapels and laid a hot kiss on him.

When they came up for air, he grinned at the other diners staring. "My pleasure."

 **Sand Shores Beach, California**

"Whoa, dude! Slow down!" Morgan shouted for the fourth time since they started their run. The others had long since dropped back. He came up alongside Justin, puffing and sweating. "What the **** is wrong with you? This isn't an iron man completion. You don't get squat for getting to the finish line first."

Immediately sorry he was taking his ill-humor out on the one person, aside from Jose, who took his out on everyone, Justin slowed down to what, for him, corresponded to a light jog. "Sorry. Guess I just woke up in a bad mood." Needing to change the subject to anything that wouldn't remind him of finding Wanda in bed with a guy, he ventured, "We're performing in front of the test audiences next week."

Taking the hint-unusual for him-Morgan let the subject drop. "Right. By the end of the week, we'll be down to twelve out of thirty-six." They ran a couple of blocks before he spoke again. "Besides you and me, who else do you see getting to the winner's circle?"

"What d'you mean 'you and me'?" Letting humor into his voice, Justin metaphorically stuck his tongue in his cheek. "You won't get past the third round at best."

Under his breath, Morgan called him a name he found not at all creative, but didn't say so. "Dude, you didn't even want to be here the first couple of days. What changed your mind?" He nudged Justin and pointed to a coffee shop up ahead as their turn-around point.

"Someone I'm very close to reminded me why I'm here."

They stopped for bottles of water and to take a rest after stretching, both lost in thought, or so Justin believed.

Morgan pointed at him with the hand holding the bottle. "You tell anyone what I'm about to say and you'll regret it." Justin let him talk. "If you don't win the big money, the show has got to be rigged."

"How d'you figure?"

His companion leaned forward as if telling a secret. "Dude, you're way more talented than that slimy wannabe Jose." Taking a drink without saying a word, Justin waited for the rest. "I mean you got it all goin' on. Looks, talent, charm. The judges, and viewers, would be ****** idiots not to pin the win on you." He leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. "Naturally, _I'd_ come in second, and no one cares about the rest."

"If you think back over the first ten seasons, traditionally, the runners up are more likely to get the skyrocketing careers while most of the winners, in a year or two, ended up singing at state fairs and art festivals."

"That's why _I_ get second place. It assures me of a long and fruitful music career while you…" he made fluttering motions with his fingers, "…vanish into obscurity."

Justin snorted, finished his water, and threw the bottle in the recycle bin. "That's the idea."

Morgan made another of the jaw-drops he did so well. "I don't get it. Why?"

"I'm only here because of a promise to a friend."

"That girl you were with? What is she, girlfriend, wife, little side trick?"

Morgan's description of Wanda angered him, but he kept it inside. "That little side trick, as you so inelegantly put it, is my _aunt_. The promise was made to my friend Sean who recently died of cancer. He was only thirty-four and headed for the top of his game in his career."

Having the grace to be ashamed, Morgan crushed his empty bottle and just held it. "Oh, dude. I'm sorry. About your friend _and_ what I said about your aunt."

Taking the apology as face value, Justin got to his feet and Morgan joined him. "Just don't say anything to anyone. They'd feel sorry for me and I can't handle seeing the sad eyes and 'aww' head tilt every time they look at me."

"So what was this Sean guy's bag?"

Justin gave a nanosecond's thought to lying. However, as he'd probably wouldn't be believed, he went with the truth. "He was my ex-boyfriend and the lead singer of Ambiguous." He slapped Morgan on the back and took off. "See you back at the hotel. I'm doing another five."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Time had little meaning after Wanda's nephew left the second time. Not until they'd both been fully satisfied. Then, real life intruded in the form of a text from Aaron's boss asking him if he could work for a few hours this afternoon. He might as well make money while he was still breathing, just in case he stopped anytime soon, like after breakfast. Using his thumb, he tapped out a succinct "yes", and left it at that.

Listening to the shower, Aaron wanted more than anything to join Wanda, but he was afraid that her nephew, who was obviously much older, would return and catch them again. Then, in a few days, his family would report him missing and a few weeks or so later, he'd ruin someone's vacation by washing up on the beach at Cabo San Lucas, _if_ his body was found at all. The few seconds' scrutiny was enough to sense that Justin was someone you wouldn't want to piss off. Without her saying so, he got the same idea for Wanda's parents.

Sitting on the sofa, elbows on knees, and head in his hands, Aaron mentally kicked himself in the ass for letting his baser instincts take over when Wanda asked him stay with her instead of closing the door in his face.

 _How_ _did you manage to get a full university ride, being such an_ _idiot_ _,_ _Dombrowski_ _? She's not even eighteen! Oh, shit! What's the age of consent in California? Is she even_ _legal_ _? Or does it go by where she lives? ****! Her nephew's gonna_ _kill_ _you, and when her parents find out, they'll dig your rotting corpse from its shallow grave or drag it out of the ocean and kill you_ _again_ _!_

The bathroom door opened, and to Aaron's relief, Wanda emerged fully dressed, her long hair hanging down her back in a braid. He stood, waiting for her to make the first move.

She came to give him a kiss, and they sat on the sofa together not touching. "I have read about a tradition called the morning after talk."

He really did love her accent, the words she chose. "We can _not_ do it and say we did. You know, if you want."

"I do want to do it." Taking his hand, Wanda looked him in the eye, not at all embarrassed by their activities during the night and this morning. "Thank you."

Of all the things she could've said, "thank you" had been _way_ down on the list. "For what?"

"Being my first."

"Oh." Shaking his head, Aaron grinned, though not in a way that said he was laughing at her. "Then I should thank _you_ as well." Her eyes narrowed, working through what he'd just told her. "Yes, Wanda. You were _my_ first too."

She blinked a few times. "I assumed you had been with other girls before me."

Dumbfounded, he barely got out, "Why would you think that?"

She took a deep breath and let it out, adding a wry smile at the end. "You seemed to know what to do when I did not. Beyond the obvious, I mean."

 _Now_ he got it. "I take that as a compliment. Truth is, I've watched my share of porn." He held out a hand to stop her from speaking. "Not a lot, but enough to know not to have unreal expectations for…" he waved a hand between them, "…you know. I took what I saw in those videos and softened it, I guess you could say."

"That's _exactly_ what I would say." Wanda came in close, putting her arms around his neck. "For myself, I did some reading that included a few videos as well."

Aaron was and wasn't surprised at her admission. They were both at the age where curiosity could get the better of them. But with her, he sensed that the reading and video watching were fact-finding, and not used to… get off. "Um, I hate to ask…" Aaron did and didn't want the answer to his question. "How did he know I was here?" A thought occurred to him, one that didn't set well, making his stomach clench. "Oh, shit! D'you think he saw us while we were…"

Wanda stopped him talking with a finger over his mouth. "I do not believe he did."

"Thank God." He put his hands on her waist, bringing her close enough that he could smell the minty freshness of her breath. One hand came up to brush the short hairs framing her face back behind her ear. "What could we possibly do to keep ourselves busy until your nephew gets back?"

"Not what _you're_ thinking, pal." Wanda and Aaron jumped apart guiltily at Justin's comment from the hotel doorway. He closed the door, tossed his iPod and key card on the bedside table, and went to the closet for clothes. "I'm getting a shower." He pointed at each of them. "Do _not_ leave. And for gosh sake, don't do _anything_ that involves being naked while I'm in there."

The bathroom door slammed behind Justin. Aaron looked at Wanda and she looked back. Without a word, they sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

Aaron opened his mouth to speak, and Justin, sitting on the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, glared a warning. For her part, Wanda sat still, waiting for Justin to say something while Aaron fidgeted under the intense scrutiny and silence.

Enough was enough. Wanda stood, and both men did as well. "Whatever you're going to say, Justin, please say it."

"That's just _it_. I don't _know_ what to say. I'm not your parents though Nat and Gramps did make me responsible for you while we're here. On the other hand, you're old enough to make your own decisions. But if they find out it happened on my watch…"

She slashed a hand through the air, cutting him off. "You are forgetting how life was for Pietro and me in Sokovia. Do not think that either of us requires your protection now. We are more than capable of taking care of ourselves. We live with Mother and Father because we care for them and they for us. And having a family again takes a great weight off our minds as to where we will sleep and from where we will get our next meal." Holding out her hand for Aaron to take, she pulled him to her side. "How did you know he was here? We fell asleep before you returned from the studio."

Pacing over to the window and back, Justin showed a rueful smile. "I found evidence."

Exchanging a confused glance with Aaron, Wanda further inquired, "Evidence?"

"In no particular order: sand on the bathroom floor, sneakers and a bag of wet clothes that don't belong to either of us," he nodded to the bag at their feet, "two cups for the tea, two helmets, three wet towels hanging on the shower rod. The box of condoms in the bathroom was new when we got here. It hadn't been opened. Now it's almost empty. Then there's the sweatpants and t-shirt on the floor next to your bed. They're mine, but _I_ haven't worn them." He looked directly at Aaron. "And _you_ snore."

Aaron spoke for the first time, shrugging apologetically. "Allergies."

"You were both asleep, so I just left it at that." Her nephew paced, and in his mind, the part that leaked even when she wasn't actively reading him, she saw that he was gearing up for a long rant about responsibility, precautions, she's too young, and so forth. All things that should come from her parents. To forestall it, Wanda gave Aaron a comforting smile. "Go. I will handle my nephew."

She leaned in to give him a kiss, but before their lips could touch, Justin cleared his throat, startling Aaron. He grabbed the bag of clothes, one of the helmets, and left, avoiding looking at Justin, and closing the door with a click.

Now that they were alone, Wanda crossed her arms, shifted her weight onto one foot and leveled a glare at him again. "Do not blame Aaron. This was _my_ idea." Justin sat heavily on the foot of his bed, and she came to sit next to him. "During dinner, I received a call from Xiaoli. We argued again, and now we are no longer a couple. Until our walk on the beach, the thought of sleeping with Aaron had not crossed my mind."

To her jaw-dropping surprise, Justin laughed, loud and long. He got to his feet, rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair as he faced her again. "Revenge sex."

Confused by the term, she told him, "I do not understand."

Justin returned to his seat next to her. "You had sex with Aaron to get back at your ex. Doesn't matter who broke up with whom, or if she ever finds out. And it may not have been your intention, but that's what it was."

Uncertain if his laughter was ironic or he genuinely found the situation funny, Wanda felt like hitting him. "It was _I_ who ended it. The attraction I feel for Aaron even now was not the cause. It had no part to play in our break-up. All I need to know is if you will tell Mother and Father."

He mimed locking is lips. "Not a word. Tell them yourself, or not. Up to you."

They stood together and hugged. Afterward, Wanda picked up her bag and the helmet. "I have a paper on which I must work. Do you still want to have breakfast?"

"Little late for that. It's after twelve."

"Lunch then." Together, they went down the hall and got on the elevator. "We will _not_ speak of this again. Do not even think that I am joking."

Justin pushed the button for the first floor. "Speak of what?" They rode in silence for several floors. "Nat's gonna figure it out, you know."

Huffing loudly, Wanda shifted her feet. "That is _my_ bridge to cross when I come to it." The door opened and they got out. "There is another bridge that has already been crossed. Yesterday, I took a class in riding a motorcycle, and the store was kind enough to lend me a bike. I only have one helmet."

"Not a problem. I don't use 'em."

Wanda could have made a scene, but thought it was best not to cause more dissension between them. She placed her bag in the under-seat storage, strapped the helmet under her chin, and got on. Justin got on behind her, hands lightly gripping her waist. She started the bike, revving the motor. Over her shoulder, she asked, "Where would you like to go? I will not pay the hotel's outrageous fee, so it must have free wi-fi."

"That coffee shop up the street you like so much. They have sandwiches, right?"

"I believe so." Wanda flipped down the visor, shifted into first, and pulled out of the parking lot onto the coastal road. Walking took about twenty minutes. The drive lasted less than five due to traffic.

She parked, shut down the engine and removed her helmet. Justin held it for her as she put the kickstand down and dismounted. She retrieved the bag with her laptop and he put the helmet on the seat.

Inside, they went to the counter, and to the surprise of them both, Aaron came to wait on them. Without looking at each other, all three acted as if they'd never met. Wanda and Justin ordered and found a table where they couldn't see the counter. She'd just powered up her laptop when Aaron brought their drinks and food. He set them on the table and rushed back to work without a word.

Justin played with his straw, and when she thought he would have nothing more to say, he remarked, "Now I know why you like this place so much."

Keeping a growl from her voice with difficulty, Wanda kept her eyes on the computer. "I came here for the coffee drinks and the free wi-fi." She paused several heartbeats, and hit him with a zinger. "Having sex with Aaron was a perk."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Watching from inside the Java Junction, Pietro waited until he saw Bucky and Natasha get in the SUV and leave before hotfooting it home. He moved so fast, the neighbors would not have seen him or the front door open and close.

In his room, he set his bag on the bed, took out his laptop, put it on the desk and powered it up. While that was working, he changed clothes and carried his basket of laundry down to put them in the washer and get it started.

The refrigerator opened and closed, and Pietro walked up the stairs eating a sandwich and carrying a bottle of coke. The cats came running at the smell of food, crying and twining around his legs. "You cannot fool me. Mother and Father will have already fed you by now."

Sitting in front of the computer, he ate with one hand while typing with the other, opening a chat to Wanda. He drank down his coke, still holding the sandwich. A ping told him his sister had accepted his request.

* _How is California?_ *

** _It is safe to say that I like it more today that yesterday._ **

* _Why is that?_ *

A smiley face popped up. ** _I will tell you when I get home. How was your date with Ivy?_ **

He too added a smiley face, using her words. * _It is safe to say that we know each other much better now._ *

** _Oh? How so?_ **

He put the sandwich on a napkin. Hands poised over the keys, Pietro thought about lying, but she would know the moment they saw each other, if she didn't already. * _You will be knocked for a loop, just as I was._ _I'm still in shock!_ *

** _OMG! How did you find out? Did_ _Justin_ _tell you?_ **

* _Um… we may not be talking about the same thing._ * Before she could respond, he quickly typed out, * _Ivy and I slept together last night, and again this morning_.* This time, Wanda began her response with an emoji that looked like a laughing devil followed by a laughing emoji. * _What is so funny?_ *

** _I had sex last night too, with someone I met here. His name is Aaron._ ** She sent a blushing emoji. ** _Justin caught us sleeping in my bed._ **

* _Justin saw you having_ _sex_ _with this Aaron person?!_ *

** _Ew! No! We fell asleep before he came back from the studio, and in the morning, he caught us still in bed together._ ** He watched the little line that indicated she was typing. ** _What do you think Mother and Father will say when they find out?_ **

Pietro inserted an eye-roll. * _They will not find out if we do not tell them. Though, if asked, I will tell the truth. That I spent the night with a friend. I will just not tell them what we spent the night doing. One question…_ *

There was a longer than usual pause between his sending and response.

** _I have to go. Someone is here…_ **

The chat abruptly cut off, leaving him more puzzled than before. All that was overshadowed by the fact that he had sex for the first time, and so had his twin. With her powers, he wondered if one had affected the other, making the experience more intense than he thought it would be. Ivy had been profuse in her approval of his actions. The fact that he'd taken his time had heightened each touch, making the pleasure last longer than expected for both of them. The lyrics to a song he once heard came to mind.

 _I want a man with a slow hand_ _  
_ _I want a lover with an easy touch_ _  
_ _I want somebody who will spend some time_ _  
_ _Not come and go in a heated rush_ _  
_ _I want somebody who will understand_ _  
_ _When it comes to love, I want a slow hand_

Because Pietro had to sneak out when Ivy's parents returned from their trip a day early, they hadn't had a chance to talk. They would have to do so before sleeping together again, if she even wanted to. He read that some thought it rude to ask if a partner had been intimate with others. Didn't stop him from being curious. She hadn't asked him, and that was a good thing because then he wouldn't have to admit it had been his first time.

Priscilla put her paws on his leg and cried while reaching for his sandwich. Behind her, the others gathered in a group, keeping a close eye on the food. Even Dexter was there. The look on his little face spoke of confusion. _I don't know what's going on. I'm here because everyone else is_.

Giving in, Pietro took the sandwich apart and gave each of the cats a piece of the meat and cheese. He put the bread, lettuce and tomatoes together again, and ate that.

The computer pinged to alert him that he had another chat request, this time from Ivy. He wiped his hands and mouth, and typed * _Hi!_ *

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

With the laptop turned so they could both see it, Wanda showed Justin the website she found that would help them with the spirits at the hotel.

Another computer in the shop beeped in a different tone, though neither of them noticed. Nor did they see the man inconspicuously take their photos and upload them to his computer. A few minutes later, he closed the laptop, picked it up and left by the front door.

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **Morning**

The teams had been left to their own devices the first few hours. Not even the mentors had been present. Justin's team entertained themselves by taking turns doing impressions of different musical artists, garnering them big laughs. Soon, they had all six teams in their rehearsal room watching and cheering them on. A few even got up to try their hands.

A pretty girl no more than sixteen with a southern accent that reminded him of Leanne belted out rapper Pitbull's "Timber" with one of the guys backing her up as Ke$sha.

Once their impromptu entertainment gained momentum, Justin wasn't needed any longer. He stood at the back of the room trying to go unnoticed. When they got to the line "swing your partner round and round", the door opened and a man he'd only seen in passing stepped into the room. He motioned for Justin to follow him, and they left together.

The man took him through the dining/waiting area, down a long hallway and into an office where several others were waiting, including Monroe McKinney. There was one empty chair, and another man, conservatively dressed for this group, motioned for him to have a seat. He did, making certain his back was to a wall, and he had clear access to the window and door.

Monroe, wearing office attire instead of casual clothing one would wear to Disney World, perched on the corner of the desk. "What's going on, Justin?"

Bewildered by the question, he shrugged, "Same as everyone else: rehearsing with Jose, having a little fun with my team in the evenings, showing my aunt the sights, sounds and smells of California."

"I mean why are you turning the other contestants against their mentors?"

The question was absurd. None of the mentors aside from Jose had ever spoken to him. He knew them by sight and a couple of their names, but that was it. "No idea what you're talking about."

Crossing her arms, Monroe gave him one of those stares that might've sent someone less emotionally strong running from the room in tears. "In the last two days, we've had no less than _thirteen_ requests from contestants to be transferred to your team." She raised a finger. "And as of today, _you_ are the only one from _Jose's_ group who hasn't asked to have him replaced… with _you_."

Sitting up straight in his chair, Justin tried to wrap his mind around Monroe's not-so-subtle accusation of rebellion. "I didn't _do_ anything. We went out a couple of times. Had a group dance Saturday night at a real yawner of a bar, drank some beer, and when they threw us out, we took a fleet of cabs back to the hotel." He tapped his chest. "I've never expressed my personal feelings about Jose to anyone but him. Not even my aunt."

The man behind the desk, who, like the others, hadn't been introduced, shifted in his chair, making it squeak. "I think he's telling the truth, Mon." He took a silent survey of the room. "We all do."

Justin breathed through waiting for a verdict from Monroe. Finally, she nodded. "Since you have such a large following among the contestants, you can pass on the message. We're assembling in the main theater in thirty minutes, where you'll meet the judges one team at a time. When we come back from lunch, there'll be a dress rehearsal of sorts. That will give everyone time to tweak their performances before the official start, which is being moved up to Saturday."

He stood, met each set of eyes and nodded. "I'll tell them."

 **The Main Theater**

Justin's team stood in the wings awaiting their turn to be introduced to the judges. For one of the few times in his life, he was nervous because one of them happened to be the lead singer of his favorite group.

A self-important little man with a scraggly beard and a major case of halitosis waved them forward. Jose pushed his way to the front of the group, primping and preening. He tossed a scathing glance at Justin, who stayed in the back.

From their vantage point, they could see the judges sitting in the front row, each with a tablet and a clipboard. In the back, their assistants stood ready jump into action, if they were needed.

Trying to be inconspicuous, Justin slumped down in the back of the group as they were motioned onto the stage. He listened to one of the presenters/announcers introduce the judges before doing the same for the team.

~~O~~

"…and Justin Lockwood."

While Jimmy Blue fronted his favorite band, the one that captured his attention was the petite dark-skinned woman with a purr in her voice. Troya Davenport looked everyone over as if she planned on devouring them whole. He was reminded of the conflicting rumors about the premier jazz-torch-cabaret singer in the industry. Diva or not, that was the question. Depended on who you asked.

Jimmy peered at him. "Have we met? Cuz I feel like I've seen you somewhere before, Justin."

"No, we haven't, Mr. Blue."

He looked pained. "Jimmy, please. 'Mr. Blue' makes me sound like a character on a children's show."

To his right, Alejandra Güereña let her displeasure of the proceedings be known by a slight tightening of the skin around her mouth and eyes. When she spoke, Justin heard the distinct resonance of Mexico in her voice. Not surprising as she was quite famous there and in the U.S. as a singer and actress, as well as her contempt for anyone she didn't consider her equal. She seldom smiled and didn't speak to fans or "service people".

 _She gives divas a bad name_ , Justin thought to himself.

Last, but not least, came Théophile Bravo. His group Bitter Passion played a fusion of jazz, blues, Creole, and Zydeco. Not his favorite, but it was still an honor to meet the man in person.

One of the stage hands motioned for them to return back stage. They were stopped by Jimmy. "Hold on. We're already here. Let's see what they've got."

The stage hand looked uncertain. "But Mr. Blue, Ms. McKenney said…"

" _I'll_ handle Monroe. Go bring the others in."

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

She promised herself that she wouldn't go back to the shop where Aaron worked. Still, Wanda found herself sitting at her usual table though she knew he wouldn't be there. Truthfully, she was relieved because now she could get work done without thinking about him and the incredible night they spent together.

In the midst of doing research for her economics class, a dark shadow fell over the table. Wanda looked up into the faces of three men, all approximately the same age, the middle one much taller than the other two. "Yes?"

The stockiest of the three took a half step forward while all three reached into their breast pockets and withdrew a leather case. "Excuse me, ma'am. Agent Rabb," he indicated the other two, "Agent McKenzie and Agent Roberts." All three opened their cases, showing badges, photos, and three big blue letters. "We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

 **TBC**

 _Kubotan_ is a generic trademark for a self-defense keychain weapon developed by Sōke Takayuki Kubota in the late 1960s. It is typically no more than 5.5 inches (14 centimeters) long and about half an inch (1.25 centimeters) in diameter, slightly thicker or the same size as a marker pen. The material is usually of a hard high-impact plastic (e.g. Lexan). The body of the Kubotan is lined with six round grooves with a screw eye or swivel and split ring attachment at one end for keys. In addition, it is widely used as a self defense weapon.

The Kubotan keychain was originally based on a small bamboo weapon called the "hashi stick", an invention by Kubota's father Denjiro. Its popularity grew in 1969 to 1970s when Kubota, at the request of California State Senator Edward M. Davis then former Chief of the Los Angeles Police Department, created the weapon and began training female officers in its application. It is often touted as extremely effective in breaking the will of unruly suspects with painful locks and pressure point strikes. Because of this, the Kubotan is also sometimes dubbed the "instrument of attitude adjustment".

The maduvu also known as a _maru_ or _madu_ , is a weapon from India. Most commonly called maru, it is also referred to as _maan kombu_ after the deer horns from which it is made. The weapon typically consists of two blackbuck horns pointing in opposite directions connected by two crossbars which also act as a handle. Later variations were often tipped with steel and sometimes fitted with a plate of leather or steel to act as a shield. In the Panjab, the maru was typically constructed entirely of steel.

The maru originated among the Dravidians of south India and was favored by the Bhil people. A similar weapon, consisting of a handle mounted on an antelope horn, was used as a crutch and served as a self-defense implement for the Jogi who were forbidden by their order to carry conventional weaponry.

The maru is a primarily defensive weapon favoring a low stance, in which the wielder strives to stay lower than the opponent thereby reducing any openings to the body's vital points. Typically, the maru-wielder will block or parry attacks before countering with a thrust, choke, lock or disarm. Offensively the maru is treated similarly to a dagger, used for stabbing.

The urumi is a sword with a flexible whip-like blade from the Indian subcontinent. Originating in what are now-southern India, it is thought to have existed from as early as the Maurya Empire.

The urumi is considered one of the most difficult weapons to master due to the risk of injuring oneself. It is treated as a steel whip[1] and therefore requires prior knowledge of that weapon as well as the sword. For this reason, the urumi is always taught last in Indian martial arts.

The word _urumi_ is of north Keralan origin. In the state's southern region, it is more commonly called a _chuttuval_ , from the words for coiling or spinning ( _chuttu_ ) and sword ( _val_ ). Alternative Tamil names for the weapon are _surul katti_ (curling sword) _surul blade_ (curling sword), and _surul pattakatti_.

Silambam is a weapon-based martial art of India, more specifically in the state of Tamil Nadu, where it originated around 1000 BC. The word "Silambam" means either a mountain or merely to sound (as verb). While the Silambam fencers are fighting, the weapon makes sound. This might have been the cause for its being named as "Silambam".

"Slow Hand" is a ballad written by John Bettis and Michael Clark and recorded by The Pointer Sisters. It was first released in the spring of 1981.

"Timber" is a song by American rapper Pitbull featuring American recording artist Ke$ha. The song was released on October 7, 2013.

 **Judges**

The character of Jimmy Blue is based on an OC from the AU _Echoes_ in which he was the rock star/musician alter ego of an AU Clint Barton. In this story, he's of Pakistani ancestry.

The character of Alejandra Güereña is based on real-life Mexican singer/actress María Félix. As all I've seen are photos of her, the characterization is a complete fabrication.

The character of Troya Davenport is based on singer/actress Eartha Kitt, using some part of her own personality garnered from interviews.

The character of Théophile Bravo is a total and complete fabrication.


	146. Chapter 146

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 146**

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **The Main Theater**

"Send everyone in, Patrick."

The man with the bad breath looked as if he'd been asked to perform an unnatural act. "Yes, Mr. Blue."

Standing in the back of the group, Justin wondered what Jimmy had up his shirt, as Pietro would say. Keeping his head low, he wondered if he could slip out unnoticed. Probably not.

Once all the teams and their mentors were onstage, Jimmy eschewed the stairs and jumped up with them. This close, he could see the man's dark brown eyes and a few strands of silver in his equally dark hair. The lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth showed the world that he was an overall happy person, comfortable in his skin and with his fame. The huskiness of his voice gave away that he was a smoker who had quit, probably within the last year.

Jimmy took off his aviator glasses, shoved them in the inside breast pocket of his black leather jacket. He then took that off and tossed it to a young woman who'd come running from the back of the room. She took the seat to the right of where he'd been sitting and held it in her lap.

Clapping his hands to get everyone's attention, Jimmy gave them his most charming smile. Justin had to admit, if he didn't have Rey, and if Jimmy were single and so inclined, he'd be on him like a Velcro suit.

"Don't know about my esteemed colleagues," Jimmy Blue glanced over his shoulder with a grin, "but I've heard talk that there's something in the works that even your mentors don't know about." With a nod, he told the mentors to find seats, which they did. "And that this something was the brainchild of one man, who's taken it upon himself to do all the choreography and song arrangements."

 _Oh, shit! Time to go take a leak. A really_ _long_ _one_. Justin slowly backed away from the pack, glancing left and right, looking for the quickest way out. He was about to take off when he noticed that all conversation had stopped and everyone was looking at him.

Amara pushed through to his side, taking hold of his hand so he couldn't leave. "It was all Justin's idea. Some of us were having trouble with the choreography, and he wanted to prove to us that anyone can learn to dance, if given a chance. Justin gave me the confidence to stay with the show when I wanted to dropped out."

A member of another team, Justin didn't know his name, just that he was from the Bronx, came forward. He stuck his thumbs in his belt and shifted all weight onto his right foot. "He even taught _me_ to dance, and Ma says I've always had two left feet."

Jimmy looked Justin in the eye. "This true?"

Playing it off, he grinned wryly. "Absolutely. He _does_ have two left feet." His quip had the intended effect of making everyone laugh, with the exception of Alejandra. Several others also raised their hands to let Jimmy know he'd helped them too. Justin also felt the need to explain himself. "Not all the mentors are as patient as they could be when it comes to teaching someone with limited dance skills." At this remark, Jose's eyes widened narrowed at the implied insult. "Some were having a hard time. I'm not a professional singer or dancer, i.e. I don't get _paid_. But I have taught both at the local rec center back home, and I'm home schooling my teenage aunt and uncle in music."

Thankfully, no one asked for details. "Everyone deserves to have the same chance. For some, dancing comes easier if they sing while they dance and/or if they dance with a group. It was supposed to be a surprise for the judges and mentors."

By now, even Alejandra was listening, her interest hidden behind a pair of enormous dark glasses.

Hands clasped in front of him, Jimmy's eyes lost focus for a moment. If he didn't know that Wanda was almost ten miles away, he'd think she had something to do with it. "Got the music with you?"

Justin aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "In my bag. Why?"

Jimmy jumped to the floor and took his seat between Alejandra and his assistant. "Go get it. Let's see what you got." Justin hesitated, and the other man pounced. "Unless you're not as good as your students say you are."

O-ohs, ahs, and murmurs of protest came from all around Justin, making him grin. "Appealing to my vanity won't do you any good, Mr. Blue. I'm good and I know it. As I mentioned to someone recently," Jose ducked his head in embarrassment, "when you're good at something, you don't have to constantly tell people because they already know, and _they_ tell the world for you." Standing tall, arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart, he leveled a challenging gaze on the man. "On the other hand, if you insult my students, I would then be forced to prove you wrong."

Looking left and right, a smirk came over Jimmy as he spread his arms to the side. "If that's what it takes, consider them insulted."

 _He'll eat those words_. Turning on his heel, Justin yelled, "Huddle!"

Immediately, all the contestants moved in close, just like a football huddle, but with more people. He only gave basic instructions because they all knew what to do. "Ready? Three… two… one… break!"

As they'd practiced, everyone got into their places while Justin moved to the edge of the stage. "Gus is going after the CD. He was AV in high school, so he knows how to work the sound system. We don't have costumes or props. You'll just have to use your imagination."

With that parting shot, Justin went to stand with the men to wait for his cue.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Dalton waited and watched for his opportunity, and before long, his patience was rewarded. One of the maintenance men, a non-believer in all things spiritual, came alone to the boiler room to do scheduled maintenance. Dalton let him finish and just as his foot hit the bottom step, he made his move. The man stumbled, and the tool box fell to the concrete floor with a crash.

Holding up his hands, Dalton reveled in his ability to see and feel and touch. To keep the illusion alive, he picked up the tool box and returned to the first floor. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes in pleasure at the scents of the corporeal world, at being able to see more than just the view through the basement windows.

Tapping into his reluctant host's memories, Dalton made his way to the maintenance area, put up the tool box, and went for a walk around the outside of the building, just to get a feel for the world and to let himself get used to being human again. Even now, he could feel the "owner" trying to push him out. If he could get rid of the original soul, this body would then be his for the taking. _Gotta work on that. Meanwhile, I'm gonna have a beer, a smoke and some chow. And maybe even find a woman to ease the stress of being dead for who knows how long. Then, I'll find out who killed me and do the same to them_.

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

Wanda's eyes flitted from one badge to the other, comparing faces, and back to her keyboard. At no time did she stop typing, nor did she respond.

The one who spoke exchanged puzzled glances with his companions and tried again. "Miss, we're…"

"…with the FBI," she repeated, again not looking at them. "Yes, I heard you the first time."

He cleared his throat. "We have…"

"Questions. I'm not _deaf_." Wanda's eyes locked with the man who spoke. She stopped typing, blinked once and sighed. "You are no more FBI agents than I am." She spun the laptop around to show a photo of two of the men wearing jeans, boots and plaid shirts over t-shirts leaning against an old black car, addressing the man who appeared to be in charge. "You are Dean Winchester." Her eyes flicked to the tallest man. "And you are his brother, Sam." Turning to look at the third man, who wore a trench coat, her head tilted to the side thoughtfully. "And you are… an angel?"

At a loss for words, Sam took up the conversation. "How do you know who we are?"

A small smile turned up one side of her mouth in a sort of smirk, as if she were teasing. "I can read minds." Dean laughed uncomfortably and pulled out a chair, but before he could sit, the chair moved back against the table. "I did not invite you could join me."

He bent over to look under the table then at Sam and the other one. She hadn't used her feet to move the chair as she was sitting cross-legged. "I can also move things with my mind." Her feet hit the floor and she stood. "My name is Wanda." She shook Dean and Sam's hands, but when Castiel held his out, she paused before taking it. "Castiel. Your name is Castiel, and you are an angel. However, that name does not appear in the bible. The first mention of the name is the 13th century. It is said that Castiel is the angel who presides over Thursdays."

Castiel almost smiled, startling Dean. "No, no. He's an angel of the Lord." Dean held his hand above his head. "He's way up there, top of the angel pyramid."

"Actually, Dean, Wanda is correct. Prior to becoming a warrior, it was my responsibility to oversee Thursdays. I did this for several thousand years before being called by God to be trained as a seraphim."

Wanda resumed her seat. "You may join me, but first," she held up a finger, "you must change. Here, you will stick out like a sore toe."

"Thumb," Sam corrected while Dean snickered. Together, they returned to the car for their clothes, leaving Castiel behind.

The chair moved away from the table to let Castiel know he could join her. "Do you also have other clothing to wear?"

He looked down at the trench coat apologetically. "I don't. Do you have a suggestion?"

Closing her eyes, Wanda breathed deeply, sending Castiel a mental picture. When she opened them, his trench coat and suit were gone, replaced by a black short sleeved shirt covered in palm trees, and khakis. He looked at his feet, and back to her. "They are call flip-flops. I can see you do not care for them."

Again, she sent a mental picture, and the sandals changed to sneakers just as the other two came back inside. Castiel's mind intrigued her. Upon their arrival, she could read it like a children's book. Then, it changed, became like looking into an abyss, as if he'd completely blocked every thought and emotion from her probing, but not in the same way that Justin often did. With her nephew, she only felt a barrier between her and what he was thinking or feeling. But with Castiel, it was much more than that. Except for the first touch, she could only see what _he_ wanted her to see. At the moment, that was the dark nothingness.

She stood, and Castiel did as well. "I will get us something to drink." When she returned a few minutes later, Dean and Sam were there. The three of them looked at her and she saw guilt in their minds because they had been talking about her. Not that she was disturbed by the fact. It happened nearly everywhere she went because of her accent.

Dean jumped up to take the drinks carrier from her, smiling flirtatiously. Sam jabbed him in the side, whispering, "Dude! Jail bait!"

All three gave their attention to Castiel at his puzzled comment. "I don't understand that reference. A jail is an inanimate object. Why would you want to trap it?" Wanda hid a grin by passing out the drinks. "And if we did, where would we find a trap large enough?" He thought hard. "Obviously, we would have to build it ourselves." That was the last straw. Wanda laughed, and Dean and Sam joined in. Castiel held his cup but didn't take a drink. "Have I said something funny again?"

Sam sipped his frothy latte and set the cup on the table. "Jail bait is someone who is under the legal age of consent."

Understanding shown in Castiel's eyes. "The implication being that a person above the age of consent finds the other sexually attractive." Giving Wanda intense scrutiny, he nodded. "She is quite pretty, for a human. And Dean, you really should be more circumspect about the females with whom you… flirt, especially considering her age. There is also the fact that she is unavailable, as she is currently in a physical relationship with someone by the name of…"

Wanda stopped Castiel by grabbing his hand. "That information is irrelevant to this investigation. The three of you are here because of the spirits haunting the hotel where my nephew and I are staying."

Dean sat up in his seat, leaning forward, his voice low. "Both of you get out of our heads. We just want to have a normal conversation. We speak, you speak. Is that too much to ask?"

She stared at each in turn, sensing animosity only from Dean. Sam and Castiel broadcast curiosity, with Sam silently agreeing with Dean. "No, it is not, Dean. My apologies. When you presented yourselves in false personas, I thought it best to simply take the truth from your minds. I will do my best to stay out of your heads, though I reserve the right to use my abilities if I sense that you are in danger."

Nodding agreement, Dean glanced around, but no one was paying any attention to them. "Just between us, what _are_ you, exactly?"

Thinking how best to phrase it in words they would understand, Wanda came up with, "I guess you could say I'm a witch."

Though quiet, Castiel's mind was always busy. He looked her in the eyes, and in all seriousness asked, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

Covering her laugh with a hand, Wanda picked up her drink. Her smile went away, giving the question serious consideration. "Perhaps a little of both. Is that a problem?"

Sam stopped Dean with a hand on his arm. "No, of course not, Wanda. We're here to help. We tracked you through your IP address when you accessed a site that details how to vanquish a spirit."

"Yes. There are three within the hotel." She tapped at her keyboard, bringing up the file she created, turning it so they could see. "The kind spirits are Evangeline Selfridge and Kingston Bennett." Suppressing a shiver, she brought up Dalton's file. "The evil presence I sensed can only be Basil Bernard Dalton. And his intentions are not nearly as benevolent as Eva and King's. While they only wish to move on, Dalton's spirit is filled with rage and thirsts for revenge on the one who killed him." She looked them in the eyes. "If he were to find a way to leave the hotel property, he would return to his old habits, and people would die. We must stop him."

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **The Main Theater**

Swaying with the music, the four women Justin chose to start them off came out to stand to right of center stage while the men he'd chosen snapped their fingers in time to the beat and swaying.

 _Blue moon you saw me standing alone_ _  
_ _Without a dream in my heart_ _  
_ _Without a love of my own_

The men moved over to stand to the women's left to sing the second verse while the women snapped their fingers and swayed.

 _Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for_ _  
_ _You heard me saying a prayer for_ _  
_ _Someone I really could care for_

The two groups sang the next verse together.

 _And then there suddenly appeared before me_ _  
_ _The only one my arms will ever hold_ _  
_ _I heard somebody whisper "Please adore me"_ _  
_ _And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold!_

Going against tradition, Justin had the women sing the verse while the men did the echo.

 _Blue moon (blue moon, blue moon, blue moon)_ _  
_ _Now I'm no longer alone (a-lone, a-lone)_ _  
_ _Without a dream in my heart (myyyyy heart)_

 __ _Without a love of my own (no love of myyyyy own)_

The group segued into the next song flawlessly, just like in their last rehearsal. So that everyone got a chance to sing, the lines were broken up, each woman moving to the front of the group to bring attention to her.

 _Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song_  
 _Killing me softly with his song  
Telling my whole life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song_

 _I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style  
And so I came to see him, to listen for a while  
And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes_

 _Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song_  
 _Killing me softly with his song  
Telling my whole life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song_

 _I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd  
I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud  
I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on_

 _Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song  
Killing me softly with his song  
Telling my whole life with his words  
Killing me softly_

The women sang the last chorus together, drawing the last word out as the men took their places and the music changed. As with the women, each got a chance to shine.

 _Sadness is beautiful  
Loneliness is tragical  
So help me I can't win this war (oh no)  
Touch me now don't bother  
If every second it makes me weaker  
You can save me from the man I've become_

 _Looking back on the things I've done  
I was trying to be someone  
Played my part, kept you in the dark  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

 _I'm here with my confession  
Got nothing to hide no more  
I don't know where to start  
But to show you the shape of my heart_

 _Looking back on the things I've done  
I was trying to be someone (trying to be someone)  
Played my part, kept you in the dark  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

 _(Now let me show you the shape of my heart)_

 _Show you the shape of my heart_

Justin had to admit Chase had done a great job combining the melodies of both songs for the last verse with the women singing and the men echoing.

 _Strumming my pain with his fingers_

 _(Looking back on the things I've done)  
Singing my life with his words_

 _(I was trying to be someone)  
Killing me softly with his song_

 _(Played my part, kept you in the dark)  
Killing me softly with his song_

 _(Now let me show you the shape of my heart)  
Telling my whole life with his words_

 _(Let me show you the shape of my heart)_

 _Killing me softly with his song_

 _(Show you the shape of my heart)_

For the next song, Justin had the genders pair up to sing each line, alternating moving off to stage right and left until they were strung across the stage, everyone coming in on the chorus.

 _Remember the day I set you free  
I told you you could always count on me  
From that day on, I made a vow  
I'll be there when you want me  
Some way, some how_

' _Cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough  
Ain't no valley low enough  
Ain't no river wide enough  
To keep me from getting to you babe_

 _Oh no darling  
No wind, no rain  
Or winters cold can stop me baby, na na baby  
'Cause you are my own  
If you're ever in trouble  
I'll be there on the double  
Just send for me, oh baby_

 _My love is alive  
Way down in my heart  
Although we are miles apart  
If you ever need a helping hand  
I'll be there on the double  
Just as fast as I can_

They went into a little dance, while continuing to sing. The leads faced each other, arms out to the side as they spun around.

 _Don't you know that there  
Ain't no mountain high enough  
Ain't no valley low enough  
Ain't no river wide enough  
To keep me from getting to you babe_

 _Don't you know that there  
Ain't no mountain high enough  
Ain't no valley low enough  
Ain't no river wide enough  
Ain't mountain high enough  
Ain't no valley low enough_

 _To keep me from getting to you_

While the outro for the song played, the stage darkened, and when the lights slowly came back up, once again, Justin reversed the original gender lyrics with the women starting them off. The judges looked around, catching site of the bulk of the group coming down the main aisle from the back of the theater.

Unlike the movie for which the song is known, instead of one couple, there were three. At center stage, and only because she insisted when he assigned her the dance, Justin stood with Amara, playing the parts of Baby and Johnny. Two couples were on either side, far enough away so that they wouldn't run into each other, but close enough to be easily seen.

 _I've had the time of my life  
No I never felt this way before  
Yes, I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you_

For the beginning, the three couples stuck with the same opening as Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Gray, creating the sweet and sensual atmosphere. Of course, having the women in swirly skirts would make it more dramatic, but it couldn't be helped.

As they stood face to face, Amara's eyes were wide and dilated, as if she were scared to death. Turning slightly away from their audience, Justin whispered, "It's just you and me here. No one else. You know the steps and the lyrics. You can do this."

She nodded imperceptibly as he turned her to face away from him. They stared into each other's eyes, her left arm rising up to wrap around his neck. He brought his lips to less than an inch from hers. The arm around his neck came down to take hold of his at her waist. He spun her out and back, going right into the cha-cha.

 _Women: I've been waiting for so long now I've finally found someone to stand by me_

 _Men: We saw the writing on the wall, as we felt this magical fantasy_

 _Both: Now with passion in our eyes there's no way we could disguise a secret need  
So we take each other's hand 'cause we seem to understand the urgency_

 _Women: Just remember_

 _Men: You're the one thing_

 _Women: I can't get enough of_

 _Men: So, I'll tell you something_

 _Both: This could be love because_

The couples changed places, the one on stage left moving to center while Amara and Justin took their place. An extra few measures of instrumental were added to allow everyone a chance to show off their dancing chops as they subtly changed positions again, with the last of the three couples now at center stage, the entire group singing.

 _I've had the time of my life  
No I never felt this way before  
Yes, I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you_

During the instrumental, the three couples returned to their original places. With a nod, Justin had them move back to where they had room to jump from the stage, the men performing their solo dance down the wide aisle.

 _Women: With my body and soul I want you more than you'll ever know_

 _Men: So, we'll just let it go, don't be afraid to lose control_

 _Women: Yes, I know what's on your mind When you say, "Stay with me tonight."_

With the three women moving to the edge of the stage, the group in the aisle danced toward them, Justin and the other two men in front.

 _Women: Just remember_

 _Men: You're the one thing_

 _Women: I can't get enough of_

 _Men: So, I'll tell you something_

 _Both: This could be love because_

Several of the men ran to the stage to help the women down, continuing to sing.

 _I've had the time of my life  
No I never felt this way before  
Yes, I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you_

Standing in place, they sifted their weight from one foot to the other for several beats. Their partners made "come here" motions, and the women ran toward them.

 _Women: Just remember_

 _Men: You're the one thing_

 _Women: I can't get enough of_

 _Men: So, I'll tell you something_

 _Both: This could be love because_

The men placed their hands on the women's hips, the heels pressed into the front to give them leverage for the lift. Justin was so proud of Amara. She didn't hesitate, and with his strength, she needn't have worried he'd drop her. He held her in the air, her head up, back arched and arms out to the side as if she were flying.

 _I've had the time of my life  
No I never felt this way before  
Yes, I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you_

They brought the song to a rousing finish by pairing up and continuing to dance until the music faded out.

The mentors and judges gave them a standing ovation, with one exception. Justin herded them out in front, keeping himself toward the back as everyone turned to look at Alejandra expectantly.

At some point, she'd taken off those ridiculous glasses, and Justin could see all of her face. Though she was the oldest by more than a decade, she didn't look it. Her dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes that he could see were quite natural, appraised the group with an unreadable expression. Slowly, she got to her feet and came toward them.

Justin could feel those closest to him holding their breath. The crowd parted to let her through. She stopped in front of him, her eyes staying locked on his.

" _Asombroso trabajo_."

She spun on her spiked heel and returned to her seat. Bronx leaned close. "What she say?"

"Amazing job." Grinning, Justin whispered back, "She _really_ must've liked it. She almost smiled."

Impressed and not wanting them to know, Jose pushed through to stand in front of Justin, speaking on behalf of all the mentors. "That was quite a performance. For how long did you practice?"

Pretending to count on his fingers, Justin looked at the ceiling and back to Jose. "Four."

"Four _weeks_? You've only just met."

Crossing his arms, Justin let himself be proud of his students. "Four _days_."

Stunned, Jose's mouth dropped open. He snapped it shut and cleared his throat, attempting to put the contestants on the defensive. "You should have cleared it with the staff."

"It was all done on our own time. We didn't need _anyone's_ permission. And this," he indicated the theater, "command performance was requested by one of the judges."

The skin tightened around Jose's eyes showing anger that he still couldn't get the best of Justin. "It is time for the break. Be back at three, and not a minute later." He turned on his heel and stalked away, followed by the other mentors.

As the judges got up to leave, Jimmy caught his eye, grinned and gave him a nod of approval.

~~O~~

Having watched the performance from the wings, the gears inside Monroe's brain spun at breakneck speed. The same stage hand who'd been there with her the entire time waited patiently for orders before going off to perform other tasks.

"Patrick, have my assistant set up a meeting with the rest of the producers for tonight, and get me the recordings from the theater." She chewed the inside of her cheek for several seconds. "I have an idea for the new promos."

"Yes, ma'am."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

"It will be easier for your investigation if you stay here at the hotel," Wanda told the men as they joined up in the parking lot. "There may not be a choice as to rooms. I am here with my nephew who is competing on a television show for singing and dancing, as are most of the others."

Sam motioned for her to lead the way. "As long as it has two beds and internet access, we're good."

Thinking he was being smooth, Dean put on his flirtatious smile again. "Any of these rooms on _your_ floor?"

As before, Wanda ignored him. "I do not think so. We only got the room because Justin persuaded the manager to rent it to us. If there are no rooms, you should try the hotel next door in order to be close by." They stood back from the people at the desk, awaiting their turn. "Perhaps it is best if we say that you are distant family come to support Justin in his competition. Oh, and the internet cost is outrageous. That is why I go to the coffee shop each day."

The guests moved on, and Sam and Dean approached. Wanda looked around, not seeing Castiel. He had been with the brothers in the car, she was sure of it. Sending out a ping, she was unable to locate him anywhere nearby. That could mean he was blocking her, or that he was out of range. If he really was an angel, he could literally be anywhere.

The brothers came to join her again, Dean shoving his wallet into his back pocket. "We're set. Room 409."

She led them to the elevators, making certain they rode up alone. "Justin and I are in 2104. This is where King and Eva both died, she in 1938 and he in 1943. Dalton died in the basement and his body was only found recently when the boiler room equipment was replaced."

"We'll get our equipment from the car and check out both places."

Whatever Dean's thoughts about her, she knew he would never force himself on a woman, and so, was not concerned with being alone with he and Sam. "Come to my room once you have settled in yours. You can do whatever tests you must. Bring Castiel as well. Justin will not return until later tonight."

~~O~~

As soon as Wanda closed the door to her room, she sensed Eva and King. She spoke without turning around. "What have you two been doing today?"

There was no answer, making her suspicious. She faced them with a glare, hands on hips.

Eva took a seat on the foot of Justin's bed, crossed her knees and adjusted her snow white gown and flowered robe to cover her legs, seemingly proud of herself. "We played a few tricks on some of the guests."

King held up a finger. "Only the more annoying ones. Nothing much. Moving things around so they think they're going a bit peculiar."

"Except for that one young lady." Eva sighed dramatically. "She's a member of your nephew's group. Treats the others poorly while acting as if she's the only one with the talent to win. Well, I've listened to her sing and watched her dance, if that's what you want to call it. That young woman wouldn't be called for a second audition back in _my_ day."

Wanda crossed her arms and tapped a foot waiting for her to continue, but it was King who answered.

"My lovely Eva wanted to throw all the young woman's belongings into the pool. And I stopped her."

"Yes, you did, my love. Instead, I just rearranged everything." King went to hold her hand. "If she doesn't drop the attitude soon, next time, it all goes into the pool. Not the furniture. Just her belongings."

At the knock on the door, Eva and King vanished. Huffing, Wanda went to let in Sam and Dean.

Hands hanging loosely at his side, Dean moved over to look out the patio door at the view while Sam held a strange device that looked like something an electrician would use. "Thanks for letting us look around, Wanda."

"If you can help King and Eva, and remove Dalton, the thanks will come from them." Her eyes went wide at the strange squeal-buzz the device made as soon as Sam turned it on.

He walked around, passing the device over the walls, furniture and floor. As soon as he pointed it at the closet, the noise became one long nerve wracking whine. "I'm reading activity here."

Wanda smiled fondly. "They don't know you, so they're hiding in the closet." Stepping up to the door, she called out, "King, Eva? It's okay. They are here to help us. Please come out." Inside her head, she heard their negative replies. "Excuse me," she told the men. She opened the closet door, stepped inside and closed it again. Her companions stood at the back, obviously reluctant to show themselves while she had company. "They won't hurt you. I won't let them."

Tentatively, King urged Eva forward. "You're sure?"

"Of course. You are able to make yourselves visible to mortals. However, to make it easier on everyone, I will facilitate the event."

She returned to the bedroom, finding Sam and Dean still standing where she'd left them. This alone told her they were experienced in dealing with ghosts. "I apologize. They are not as adept at making themselves visible as they would like to think. I can assist."

Wanda moved to stand in front of the men. Dean looked down at her with a different sort of smile telling her that Sam had a talk with his brother while they were apart. She pushed her palms against the middle of their chests as she'd done to Justin and once again faced the closet. "You can come out now. They're not going to hurt you."

The brothers were taken aback when Eva and King's heads emerged from the closet door, slowly followed by the rest of them.

"Evangeline Selfridge and Kingston Bennett, please meet Sam and Dean Winchester." Casting a glance at the men, Wanda smiled in a way that was almost a smirk. "They call themselves hunters."

 **TBC**

For those who didn't get it: Harmon Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" McKenzie and Bud Roberts are characters from the TV series JAG, which ran from September 23, 1995 to April 29, 2005.

"Blue Moon" is a classic popular song written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart in 1934, and has become a standard ballad.

"Killing Me Softly with His Song" is a song composed by Charles Fox with lyrics by Norman Gimbel. The song was written in collaboration with Lori Lieberman, who recorded the song in late 1971. In 1973, it became a number-one hit in the US and Canada for Roberta Flack.

"Shape of My Heart" is a song by the Backstreet Boys, written and produced by Max Martin and Rami, and co-written by Lisa Miskovsky. It was released as the lead single from the band's fourth studio album, Black & Blue, on October 3, 2000.

"Ain't No Mountain High Enough" is an R&B/soul song written by Nickolas Ashford & Valerie Simpson in 1966. The composition was first successful as a 1967 hit single recorded by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell.

"(I've had) The Time of My Life" is a 1987 song composed by Franke Previte, John DeNicola, Michael McDonald, and Donald Markowitz. It was recorded by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes, and used as the theme song for the 1987 film _Dirty Dancing_.


	147. Chapter 147

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 147**

"There is another, a friend of theirs. His name is…" Suddenly, Castiel was standing nose to nose with Wanda. The spirits gasped, and from the brothers, she sensed a mixture of humor and annoyance.

Dean took a step forward, leaning close enough to be heard and still be respectful of Wanda. "Again, Cas, we've talked about this."

The angel glanced over Wanda's shoulder at Dean. "About what, Dean?"

"Personal space." Castiel's eyes squinted as if he were puzzled by Dean's remark. "All humans need it. Not just me. Girls and women more than most."

"Oh." To Wanda, he said, "My apologies." In the blink of an eye, he was on the other side of the room, head tilted to the side, watching Eva and King. "As spirits, do you also subscribe to the issue of personal space?"

The couple glanced at Wanda for assistance. She gave them a smile of encouragement and King answered for them. "Yes, we do, my good, uh, man."

The look in Castiel's eyes changed. "I am not a man." He indicated his body. "This is merely a vessel."

Eva moved out of King's arms, more confident than before. "Then what are you?"

"I'm an angel."

Her mouth dropped open and she shared a look with King, who shrugged. Together, they said, "Okay."

By this time, Castiel had everyone's attention. "I've come to tell you that Dalton, the spirit from the basement, is no longer there. He has taken over the body of a maintenance man by the name of Carl. I observed him on the back deck eating, drinking and smoking. Carl is not happy being the earthly vessel of Dalton. However, he is unable to remove him."

The red psionic mist formed in Wanda's palms. "I can assist, though I do not believe Dalton will allow me near. If he sees me before I can remove him, he may harm Carl out of spite."

Castiel nodded sagely. "Carl is a non-believer in the existence of God. I can assist with Dalton's expulsion until we are able to create a plan to vanquish him."

Sam, quiet until now, stepped forward, arms crossed. "How do you propose to do that?"

"Like this." Before anyone could stop him, Castiel touched Wanda in the middle of her forehead. The room vanished, replaced by the pool deck and Carl sitting at one of the tables scarfing down food as if he were starving.

At Wanda and Castiel's appearance within two feet of him, his eyes widened in shock, immediately turning to rage. Dalton lunged at them, knocking over the table and splattering food, beer and the contents of a nearly full ashtray all over the deck, some of which fell into the pool.

As if they'd rehearsed it, Wanda pushed her palm at Carl's chest, ejecting Dalton, immediately followed by Castiel touching him on the forehead. Carl's now unoccupied body vanished. Dalton's spirit glared at them, and with a growl of pure rage, dropped through the deck into the basement below.

~~O~~

In Wanda's room, Dean and Sam leapt toward the angel in an attempt to stop him. Sam made a sound of frustration that came on top of Dean's, "Son of a _bitch_!"

Within seconds, Wanda and Castiel were with them again. Wanda sighed in relief. "Carl has no more to fear, as long as he stays out of the basement. I've created a barrier to possession that Dalton is unable to breech." She looked at Castiel. "Perhaps now, he will become a believer."

 **The Barnes Family Home**

 **Afternoon**

Bucky finished setting up by carrying a basin full of warm bubbly water into the living room. The equipment he needed was already lined up on a small table next to the recliner with a foot stool in front of it. He set the basin on the towel spread out on the floor. "Tasha!"

The den door opened and his lovely wife waddled out. Taking a look at his set-up, she smiled affectionately. "You weren't kidding."

"I was not." He extended his elbow. "May I escort madam to her chair?"

Laughing, Natasha held onto his arm for the short walk to the recliner. He helped her sit and knelt to take off her shoes and socks and then rolled the legs of her pants up to above her calves. "You're so good to me, James." He went into the kitchen and she raised her voice to be heard. " _Do you even know how to do a pedicure?_ "

"I watched a video, so we're good." He came back with a wine glass and a carafe of organic red grape juice. "If you have anything to add, let me know." He poured the juice and handed her the glass along with a gel mask for her eyes.

Sitting on the foot stool, he draped a towel over his lap, and gently took hold of one foot. He opened the organic nail polish remover, used it to wet a cotton ball and rubbed it over her nails to remove the old polish. "What do women talk about while this is going on?"

With the gel mask on, Natasha took a sip of juice before responding. "Did it myself until I couldn't see my feet anymore. Then, I would relax in the massage chair while having a professional do it." She lifted the edge of the mask. "This is so much better."

Bucky switched feet. With the old nail polish removed, he placed her feet in the water just as she inhaled sharply. "You okay?"

"Yeah. She's kicking up a storm. Feel." Natasha grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly.

Each day, he was stunned by the miracle of their baby, often to the point of tears. "It's so overwhelming, Tasha, I never know what to say."

The mask fell back into place, and Natasha picked up her glass of pseudo-wine. "Then don't say anything, husband. Just keep doing what you're doing."

To let her relax as much as possible with an active baby, Bucky checked messages on his phone, responded to a couple of not-urgent emails, and poured himself a glass of the grape juice. He drank most of it and set the glass out of the way. Taking one foot from the water, he held it in his lap to pat it dry before rubbing his hand over the bottom and sides. Then, he did the other foot. "Smooth. No scrubbing needed."

Bucky plucked a tube from the table, squirted a small amount of cream into his hand and rubbed it all over one foot up above the ankles.

"Mmm. Feels nice."

"Warming lotion. And that's just the beginning, my lovely wife."

When he'd done both feet, he had her put them back in the water to further soften the nails for clipping. That didn't take long, and with his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth, he used an emery board to smooth and shape the edges.

Using his phone, he looked up the next step: the cuticles. He used the tool to push them back and the nipper to clip off the little bits that stuck up. Once again, the feet went into the water. He finished off his juice and draped a clean towel over his lap to dry her feet. "Now for the polish."

Bucky inserted the toe separators, opened the bottle of base coat, and got to work. He was just finishing when the doorbell rang. "Come in!"

The door opened, admitting Joi, Steve, Alice and the dogs. "Papa?" Alice called out.

"In the living room!"

The Rogers family stopped in the doorway. Steve snickered. "What are you doing, Buck?"

Without taking his eyes off his task, he muttered, "Polishing Tasha's toenails. What does it look like?"

Keeping the mask on, Natasha waved. "Alice, _moya lyubov_ , Tasha needs a hug and a kiss."

"Just don't move," Bucky admonished her as Alice ran to her side.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Joi poke Steve in the ribs with her elbow and stage whisper, "Why don't you ever do that for _me_?"

"You never asked."

"Hmph. I shouldn't _have_ to ask." Joi came to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek, adding a wink on the end. In a falsely innocent voice, she said, "What you need, Nat, is a pretty design on the big toes. Steve's an artist. I'm sure he'd love to help. Right, babe?"

Natasha removed the mask. "That's sweet of you to offer, Steve. I accept."

Alice gasped with excitement. " _Please_ , Dad? I can help."

"Of course you can, Alice." To Joi, Natasha said, "You'll need the right tools and polish." She used her phone to call up the information. "There's a store not far. Let Alice pick out whatever she wants. Take my phone to pay for it."

The dogs flopped down next to the recliner within easy reach and Natasha obliged them by giving them each a neck and ear scratch. The door slammed behind Joi and her daughter, prompting Steve to say, "You realize Alice will choose all pink, right?"

"What does it matter, Stevie?" Bucky reminded him. "If Tasha's happy with the color, no one else matters."

She put the mask on again. "You are so right, _moya lyubov_. Wake me when they get back."

"Steve and I'll go in the kitchen so you can rest." Her only response was a long sigh.

The best friends talked about nothing much until Steve's phone beeped to let him know Joi and Alice were on their way back. As they reached the living room doorway off the dining room, Bucky stopped and pointed.

For the first time ever, the cats had come downstairs and were now cuddling with the dogs, even Dexter, who had found the perfect spot against Bruno's neck, only his tiny head visible in the dog's fluffy fur.

Steve rushed to the door to tell Joi and Alice to be quiet and led them in so they could see too. Alice squealed, but instead of the cats running for the hills, all eight animals lifted their heads, blinked, and lay back down again.

Bucky took a photo while Alice and Steve got set up to paint Natasha's toenails. Alice touched her on the shoulder, whispering, "Tasha? We're back, but you can't look until it's done."

Natasha gave her hand a squeeze. "I won't, sweetie."

~~O~~

All while they worked, Natasha listened to Steve and Alice whispering back and forth about the design without giving away what it was, and she let them do as they pleased. About the time she had to pee again, she felt an odd sensation on the second toe of each foot.

"Okay. You can look now, Tasha."

Alice's voice was breathless with expectation as Natasha removed the mask and looked at her feet propped on the footstool. Her nails had been painted bright pink, with a scattering of small pink and white rhinestones in the shape of a heart on the big toes and a single purple stone on the second toes. They had also put a simple gold ring on both second toes. "They're beautiful, Alice." She put her feet on the floor so she could hug the girl. "Was it _your_ idea?"

"Uh-huh. Dad's been teaching me to draw better, and he says that sometimes less is more."

"Well, I love it." She let a smirk turn up one corner of her mouth. "When your dad does it for your mom, you should help."

A big smile lit up her sweet face. "Yay!"

Joi touched Alice on the back of her head to get her attention. "Why don't you take the dogs out in the yard to play?"

"'Kay." She slapped her thighs to get their attention. "C'mon Trixie and Bruno! Let's go play!" And they were gone. The cats, especially Ryder, weren't happy at all. They trooped onto the catio, ignoring the humans in their midst.

Joi helped Natasha stand. "Now you _have_ to do mine, Steve."

As Natasha headed for the bathroom, Steve said, "It'll be my pleasure."

"And Mia's."

"Hey, let's not go overboard…"

Smiling to herself as she closed the bathroom door, Natasha thought how lucky she was, and all because Steve had saved Bucky from falling at the last possible second.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **Dining Room**

 **Evening**

Just by chance, Justin, Amara, Kimberly, Gus, and a few others met in the dining room and decided to sit together. He texted Wanda to come join them, hoping she wasn't in their room with Aaron again. She responded that she'd be right down and that he should meet her near the elevators. Puzzled, he ordered a draft and excused himself.

A few minutes later, the doors opened and Wanda got out, accompanied by two men in their early thirties. He waited for them to move on, but they didn't.

"Justin, this is Dean and Sam Winchester. They're here to help us with our… pest problem."

Pest was their code word for the three spirits haunting the hotel. The men shook hands while Justin sent a mental message to Wanda. * _Elaborate._ *

** _They call themselves hunters. It's their "family business" to hunt down supernatural entities and vanquish them, if possible. I've asked for their help with removing Dalton and assisting Eva and King to move on_.**

* _We'll talk about this later._ * Justin smiled. "I'm having dinner with some friends. Would you like to join us?"

Dean looked skeptical. "Don't suppose there's a Biggerson's close by?"

Justin shrugged. "Don't think so, but we're not from around here." He led the way to their table, which had gained a couple more members. "Hey, everyone. I'd like to introduce my Aunt Wanda. Auntie, this is everyone." Not sure what to say about Sam and Dean, Justin went with the first thing that popped into his head. "And these are my cousins, Sam and Dean." He clapped Dean on the shoulder, squeezing just enough to let him know that he and his brother better treat Wanda with respect or else. "They're having dinner with Wanda and just stopped to say hi. I'm gonna walk them to their table and be right back."

Wanda sent him an irate ping, which he elected to ignore. His smile vanished as he trailed after the trio who took an empty table as far from everyone else as possible. When they were seated, Justin leaned on the table, keeping his voice low. "Whatever ideas you come up with for Dalton, don't do a thing without running it by me first. Got it?"

From the looks on their faces, the brothers weren't used to being told what to do. Too ******* bad. Justin wanted them to know who was really in charge, and it wasn't them. Ignoring Wanda's mental reprimand, he returned to his table. An innocent-looking, girl-next-door-pretty southern belle type by the name of Sharlene, was telling a story.

"…then, while we were waitin' for our mentor, who was over an _hour_ late, to haul his sorry backside to the rehearsal room, I said to this northern girl, 'Where're y'all from?' She looked down her nose at me 'n said, 'Ah'm from a place where we don't end our sentences with prepositions.' So, I smile all sweet like, and say, 'Okay, Miss Fancypants, where're ya'll from, _bitch_?'"

The laughter flowed around Justin as he moved his seat to between Kimberly and Gus, forcing everyone to shift around. It was a pain, but he needed to be able to see Wanda and her new friends and, more importantly, know that they could see him. He sensed that both men had seen more than their share of pain and misery. His danger sense had tingled, but not in the way to indicate he couldn't trust them alone with Wanda. Even considering that she could more than take care of herself didn't stop his protective streak.

To hide his true intent, Justin grinned, and leaned forward, one elbow on the table. "So, who has juicy gossip to share?"

~~O~~

"I'm not sure I like this, King. Do you really think we can trust those young men?"

Eva stood on the roof, looking out over the water, arms crossed, rubbing her biceps as if she were cold. King put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. "They have the look of men with tragic pasts and are trying to be the best they can be. Wanda trusts them."

She turned to face him. "Justin doesn't. Not completely. But then, he doesn't have her abilities." He pulled her close, urging her head onto his shoulder, and she wished with all she had that she could actually feel him and he her, revel in their shared warmth where their bodies met. "Darling, about that other little item we talked about…"

"You're wondering if Wanda and her young man would be willing to grant temporary occupancy for one last fling before we head into the great beyond."

"It's like you can read my mind." Eva turned within the circle of his arms. "We could ease into it. Begin with asking her to take us away from the hotel. Even an hour or two would be…"

King's chin rested on her shoulder. "…heavenly?"

Chuckling, she laid her hands over his where they encircled her waist. "That would be the other item. Being able to experience the outside world, that would be a half-step down, but still amazing."

"Start with something small. A jaunt down to the coffee shop where Wanda's gentleman caller works. As long as we behave, she may be persuaded to take us on longer trips. From there, it's just a short hop to…"

"Heaven?" They chuckled quietly, and another thought came to Eva. "With her sense of ethics, do you think she would feel it necessary to ask the young man's permission prior to the event?"

King's chest expanded against her back as he inhaled. Though they no longer needed to breathe, they'd kept the habit as spirits. "I do, and she would be right in doing so, just as they were right to reprimand us." She felt his grin against the side of her neck. "On the other hand, isn't there a saying, something about it being easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission?"

"So, you're saying we should go ahead and do it, and beg for clemency afterwards?"

"It does seem the quickest way to get what we want. There is one problem though." King tightened his hold slightly. "After one taste of the forbidden fruit, would we hunger for more?"

His words reminded Eva that there was a subject they'd never discussed. "Speaking of forbidden fruit, what would you say if I were to tell you that I am not… untouched?"

The arms around her stiffened momentarily then relaxed. "I would say that the cad who had the pleasure was a right old prat for letting you get away."

"What if there was more than one right old prat?"

He rubbed his cheek against hers. "Darling, their stupidity is my gain. Everything in your past made you the woman I love today." He paused a beat, and she knew he was going to say something off-color. "So, do you know any… tricks?"

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **Monroe McKinney's Office**

Sipping her decaf tea, Monroe waited for her colleagues to respond to her proposal. Their video links were displayed in a grid on the sixty-inch monitor mounted on the wall. One by one, they all nodded. "That makes it unanimous. The videos from the theater aren't usable for marketing. I'll make arrangements for those who pass the test audiences to similarly perform in different venues."

Rolf, fair-skinned with dramatically black hair and a full beard, raised his hand. " _A suggestion, Mon_."

The man wearing an expensive suit that perfectly matched his two-hundred-dollar haircut, huffed. " _Please, do go on, Rolf. It's not like any of us have commitments elsewhere_."

Resisting an eye roll, Monroe ignored Ambrose, giving Rolf a smile. "Please."

" _Flashmob at Sunset Square, the Orange Festival next week in Culver City, the Farmers Market in La Brea, maybe even LAX_."

"All exceptional ideas, Rolf." She gave Valerie a long look, waiting for her opinion.

The white-haired Jamaican woman nodded. " _Let's do it. We can even go together, if you like. I need to get out of New York for a while. The snow never lets up_."

"Please do. We'll talk when you get here. Your usual room at the Rixian will be waiting." Monroe shut down the video feed before Ambrose could make an objection. Something he did with infuriating regularity. The fact that he was often out voted on important issues didn't stop him from expressing his grievances. The other usually just ignored his huffing and scoffing until he came around.

She gathered her purse and laptop bag, turned out all the lights except the one on her desk, and left for home.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **Dining Room**

Despite their well-received impromptu performance this afternoon, Justin still felt he should drop out. Let the others have the fame and recognition for their talent. He'd already fulfilled his promise to Sean beyond what had been expected and was ready to go back to his relatively boring life in Virginia. If he stayed, there was the possibility that he could advance to the finals over some other deserving artist, and he didn't want to take that from someone for whom winning was their big dream.

He excused himself and went out to the lobby to send his nightly text to Rey. It took her longer than usual to respond, giving him the impression that she didn't want to talk to him tonight.

 _Maybe I should call_. His thumb was poised over the dial icon when it beeped to indicate an incoming text.

* _Hi. How's the show going?_ *

** _Good. Eliminations start Saturday._ **

Again, there was a long pause before her answer. * _You're gonna do great._ *

Rey always said the same thing, but this time, she left off the exclamation points and emojis. She only did that when she wasn't feeling well. ** _How about you? Doing okay?_ **

* _Yeah. Wish you were here._ *

Something wasn't right. ** _Me too. Idea: Why don't you come out for a couple of days? Let the amazing Margo watch the store._ ** Though Justin waited nearly five minutes, she didn't answer. ** _Sure you're okay?_ **

* _Fine. Just tired. Ima get a shower and go to bed early._ *

Rey hadn't ended with her usual smiley face and "ILY". Justin was about to call her when something flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned toward the image and saw that another man had joined Wanda and her companions. None of them batted an eye when he knew for a fact that the third man hadn't been there a second ago.

Justin shoved his phone in his back pocket and quickly made his way to their table. Looking right at the newcomer, he demanded, "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

~~O~~

Embarrassed on her nephew's behalf, Wanda made an attempt to ease his mind. "Not so loud, Justin. You're disturbing the other diners."

He ignored her, leaning on the table and getting up in Castiel's face. "I asked you a question, _pal_."

Hands folded in front of him, Castiel met Justin's anger with a serene demeanor. "Actually, you asked two questions."

Leaning closer, Justin ground out, "You're an Inhuman, aren't you?"

Castiel considered the question for a moment. "In way, that could be an apt description. I am not human therefore I suppose you could say that I'm inhuman." He tilted his head to the side. "You're Wanda's nephew, Justin. My name is…"

On the other side of the table, Dean touched two fingers to his forehead, with a nod at Justin. Apparently, Castiel understood. Using both hands, he touched Justin and her at the same time.

The three of them appeared in their room, disconcerting Justin for less than a moment. Castiel tapped him again. As if in slow motion, Justin fell backward onto the bed, arms splayed to the side and legs hanging off the end.

Even knowing that Castiel wouldn't intentionally harm Justin, Wanda turned on him. "Why did you do that? He only wanted to protect me."

She saw his confusion. "But I am not a threat to you, Wanda."

"It's a human thing to become defensive when a threat is perceived, even if there is no real danger. He saw you appear out of nowhere and came to my defense." She used her psionics to move Justin all the way onto the bed. "He will _not_ be happy when he wakes."

"I'm sorry." Castiel watched her take Justin's shoes off, and when she reached to undo his belt, he touched her on the arm. "This is my fault. Allow me." He snapped his fingers, and just like that, her nephew was out of his clothes and into his pajamas. Another snap, and he was under the covers, lightly snoring.

Before she could say anything, Castiel had them back in the dining room sitting with Sam and Dean. The brothers didn't stop eating. Dean took a drink of his beer, watching and waiting for one of them to explain.

"He was drawing too much attention to our presence," Castiel told them. He smiled at the server as she set a plate in front of him and Wanda.

Sam snorted. "Ri-ight. I'm sure no one noticed the three of you disappearing and only two coming back."

Keeping her eyes on her plate, Wanda picked up a fry, and dipped it in ketchup. "I will take care of it. Let's eat and get out of here."

Dean took a huge bite of his burger, leaving a smear of mustard on his chin. He wiped it off while chewing. When he could speak, he kept his voice low. "As soon as everyone's gone to bed, we're headed to the basement to do a little recon."

"Dalton will not appreciate having an angel and two true believers invading what he considers his territory."

"If he doesn't bother us, we won't bother him," Sam stated simply. "We've dealt with ghosts before."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "After you givin' him the ol' heave ho, don't be surprised if he makes it his death's work to scare the bejeezus out of you and your nephew. You'll need to pour salt around the perimeter of the room to keep him out."

Wanda didn't like that idea. "Would that also keep Eva and King from entering?"

Castiel swallowed, wiped his mouth and sipped from a glass of water, making a face. In this instance, she could see his thoughts. Though he ate to give his mortal body fuel, to him, it all tasted exactly the same, like nothing.

"Indeed it would. You will have to make a choice. Salt the room so Dalton cannot enter, or don't, and risk him taking revenge for making it impossible for him to reinhabit Carl's body."

It didn't take long to make the decision. "I will risk it, for Eva and King's sakes." The server discretely left the check and was gone. None of the men made a move to pick it up, meaning it was up to her to provide payment. If they could help, it was a small price to pay.

~~O~~

"Be-eb. Yoohoo! Wakie, wakie. C'mon, Beeb. Open those baby blues and talk to me."

Annoyed with Sean for bothering him when he'd worked late at the club, Justin pulled the covers over his head and rolled onto his side facing the other direction. "I don't wanna fight again, Sean. Just let me sleep."

"No can do, my friend. We need to talk."

Ignoring his boyfriend's upbeat, almost giddy tone, Justin snuggled deeper into the bed they used to share. After a few minutes, he sensed he was being watched. He opened his eyes, finding himself nose to nose with a grinning Sean. How could he be so happy when they'd spent the last couple of months either fighting or giving each other the cold shoulder? He rolled onto his stomach and held the pillow over his head.

"If you won't get up, then you give me no choice but to bring out the big guns." Sean cleared his throat.

 _When the red, red robin_ _  
_ _Comes bob, bob, bobbin'_ _  
_ _Along, along_ _  
_ _There'll be no more sobbin'_ _  
_ _When he starts throbbin'_ _  
_ _His old sweet song_ _  
_ _Wake up, wake up you sleepyhead_ _  
_ _Get up, get up, get out of bed_ _  
_ _Cheer up, cheer up the sun is red_ _  
_ _Live, love, laugh, and be happy_

"Ungh! You know I hate that song!" Justin pulled the pillow tighter around his head, but it didn't do any good. "Fine!" He threw the pillow in Sean's general direction and sat up. But something wasn't right. Sean stood at the foot of the bed, still grinning. "What the hell, Sean? This isn't my condo."

"Very good," Sean said with heavy sarcasm. "It's your hotel room in Sandy Shores, California."

Everything came back to Justin in a rush. He backed away from Sean while taking in his appearance. His thick black hair had all grown back, his cancer-ridden body had filled out and he was wearing the clothes Zoe insisted he be cremated in: a graphic tee, jeans, leather jacket, and sneakers. "But, you're dead."

"Right the first time." He spread his arms wide. "I'm a ghost. Welcome to _my_ world, Beeb."

Chuckling, Justin shook a finger at him. " _I_ know what this is. It's a dream. _This_ I can do." He gestured at the sofa. "Have a seat and tell me why you're here."

"You _know_ why. To stop you from dropping out."

Justin sat next to Sean, as far from him as he could get and still be on the sofa. "If you know that then you know _why_. I've spent most of my adult life avoiding the public eye. Well, as much as possible being the grandson of the last surviving Howling Commando. At least until Steve came along. I won't subject my family to even more intense public scrutiny. I win this, or even come out in the top five, and the next thing you know, some asshole blogger-vlogger trying to make a name for him or herself as a journalist is reporting that I don't like pickles on my burgers and my favorite beer is Sam Adams."

"Won't happen."

Sean was so sure, Justin almost believed him. Almost, but not quite. "How do you know?"

A smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. "You love pickles on _all_ your sandwiches, and your favorite beer is beer."

"How do you… Ah," Justin tapped the side of his head. "This is a dream, and my subconscious would know my favorite everything."

Sean lounged in the corner of the sofa, one arm on the back and legs crossed. "Whatever gets you through the day, Beeb."

"Will you _please_ stop calling me that?"

"You said I was a dream." His smirk deepened and included the lift of his left eyebrow. "Guess that means you're annoying yourself, then."

Sean's eyes looked past him and Justin turned to see Eva and King coming through the closet door.

Both wore expressions of curiosity. With a smile, King casually inquired, "Justin, my boy, who's your friend?"

 **TBC**

"When the Red, Red Robin (Comes, Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along)" is a 1926 song written by Harry Woods.


	148. Chapter 148

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Many thanks to karina001, the Thunda from Down Unda, for an idea used in this chapter.

Note: RL is being a pain at the moment. If possible, I will still be posting updates, but don't be surprised if I don't. Thanks.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 148**

Justin stood at the same time Sean did, looking from the ghosts to Sean and back several times. "You can _see_ him?"

Laughing, Eva glided across the floor with King trailing behind. "Of course, we can, my dear." She extended her hand. "I'm Eva, and this is King."

They shook all around, Sean giving them both that ultra-charming smile of his. "Sean. I'm a, uh, well, I _was_ a friend of Justin's. Died a few weeks ago. Cancer."

King pointed at himself. "For me it was 1943. Shoddy repairs on the gas line."

Eva rolled her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "1938. Sadly, I drank too much at a party thrown by a director friend who had just won his first Oscar."

Sean gestured for Eva to take a seat, which she did on the foot of Wanda's bed. "Ah, so you ran with the big dogs in Hollyweird. What did you do?"

She lifted her chin proudly. " _I_ was a rather famous actress in my day."

"Coolness." Sean mimed playing guitar. "Music was my bag. Guitar and piano and sang in a rock band."

All three looked at King, who smiled wryly and crossed his arms. "I'm afraid that my only claim to fame was being rich, married and divorced three times, and that I died…" he gestured at the room, "…an ignoble death in a moderately priced hotel room while hiding out from my soon-to-be ex-wife."

 _Oh, God! I'm Dorothy and this is ******* Kansas!_ Done with the casual conversation between the resident spirits and what he thought was a figment of his imagination, Justin made a T with his hands as he stepped between them. "Whoa! Time out! So, this is _real_? I'm not dreaming?"

Sean shrugged. "'Fraid not, Beeb. It's me. In the… Well, not the _flesh_ , but you get the idea."

Barely able to wrap his mind around the situation, Justin sputtered, "B-but, _how_ did you get here, Sean? Eva and King are here because this is where it happened for them, but you… passed in South Bend."

The spirit of Justin's dead friend sat next to Eva. "I'm new to this haunting thing, but as I understand it, I'm here because something that belonged to me is here. That and I now have unfinished business, whereas I didn't before."

"How could you have unfinished business? We took care of all that before you…"

Sean looked him in the eye, his expression stern. "Died, Beeb. The word is _died_. I died, expired, croaked, perished, kicked the bucket, bit the big one," his smirk came back and was shared with Eva and King, "gave up the ghost, shuffled off this mortal coil."

Giving Sean a flirty smile, Eva rubbed her shoulder against his. "O-oh, I'm rather fond of men who quote Shakespeare." She moved to the middle of the room. "If I'd lived a few more months, I would've performed one of his as my first Broadway play."

"That's cool. Justin here is a big Shakespeare fan." All Justin could do was make a vague gesture of agreement. "Which play?"

" _Richard III_. _I_ was the director's first choice to play the part of Lady Anne." She struck a pose. "What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, and mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell. Thou hadst but power over his mortal body; his soul thou canst not have. Therefore begone."

Out of habit, Justin muttered, "Act 1, Scene 2," and was ignored yet again.

Sean applauded and whistled while King brought her hand to his lips, giving her a smoldering look. "And you would've been _brilliant_ , my dear. It's as if the Bard created the part with you in mind."

Her voice a throaty purr, Eva moved in close. "Oh, you say the sweetest things, darling."

 _This isn't Kansas! It's *******_ _Oz_ _! And they're ignoring the man behind the curtain_. Purposely walking through the couple to get their attention, Justin growled, "Enough!" All three blinked wide eyes at his outburst. "All of you, just _go_ before I completely lose what's left of my mind."

Pretending to pout, Sean went to stand with Eva and King. "He's always been a grouch when he doesn't get enough sleep." Making an after you gesture, he followed Eva and King across the room, walking through Justin. "Mind showing me around? Looks like I might be here a while."

Seeming to have forgotten Justin was there, Eva took Sean's arm, pulling him with her toward the closet. "How do you _know_ he gets grumpy from lack of sleep?"

"Well," Sean glanced over his shoulder briefly, "if you must know, we were more than just friends."

Excited about the possibility of gossip, Eva scrunched her shoulders, her eyes alight. "Oh? Do tell."

"Justin and I were married."

Before Justin could comment, had he been able to formulate words at this point, the three spirits vanished, still talking like old friends. He sat heavily on the foot of his bed, leaned both elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into the palms. When he could finally speak, only one thing seemed to fit this particular situation. "****!"

~~O~~

The server brought Wanda's change to the table. She left a decent tip and poked Castiel so he would let her out. As she entered the lobby with the three men, she clenched her jaw to keep from gaping at the scene. In the corner farthest from the front desk, a little cubby area next to the curved staircase, sat Eva, King, and…

As they approached, the newcomer stood, giving Wanda a short wave. "Hiya, auntie."

"Sean!" She went to hug him and stopped.

Dean looked from Wanda to Sam to Sean. "You said there were _three_ ghosts."

"There are, or rather were. Sean is my nephew. He died a few weeks ago."

Sam came up on her other side. "What's he doin' here?"

"I don't know. Why don't you begin your investigation while I speak to him?" Dean would've objected, but Sam stopped it by steering him away from the group. When they were alone, Wanda gave Eva and King an apologetic smile. "Could you leave us alone, please?"

"Of course, my dear." King kept hold of Eva's hand.

As they passed, she hesitated for a moment then rushed through her request. "Could we also speak with you in private, Wanda? It's a matter of some importance."

Though she couldn't read their minds, Wanda knew they were stepping out of their comfort zone. "This will only take a few minutes. Where shall I meet you?"

"On the roof, if you don't mind." King led Eva away, their forms fading out as they reached the employee area.

Wanda sat on the sofa with Sean taking the seat next to her. To hide that she was talking to a ghost, she held her phone in one hand. "Go on."

Sean leaned forward, shaking his head. "Right to the point, huh?" He rubbed his palms together. "Justin is thinking of dropping out. I'm here to stop him."

"I should have been more specific. Begin with _how_ you are here."

He smiled and reached for her hand, passing right through it. "Damn. Keep forgetting. So, from the top. At the time of my death, I had no unfinished business, and so I was sent to, I guess you could call it a sort of holding area where you wait to be judged for your actions on earth. I was minding my own business, hoping it wouldn't take long to find out which direction I was headed when I was pulled from the waiting area and sent back. Because his participation in the show was a dying request from me, I'm here to see that he follows through." He looked over at her. "As for how I ended up here in California, he has something of mine in his possession. At a guess, I'd say some small token, a memento of our friendship."

Nodding though she didn't completely understand, Wanda also wanted to take his hand, but it was futile to try. "He has been wearing a pendant that I've never seen before. I assumed he bought it in the gift shop."

"Is it a silver cross with a circle, hanging from a leather cord? Looks kinda like this…" Sean pulled his shirt aside to show a tattoo in the design he'd described. "Gave it to me for my birthday a few months before Ambiguous went on tour."

"Yes. He only takes it off to shower and sleep since we've been here." A feeling of nostalgia whispered through her at the look on his face. "Zoe put it in his car. He found it when Mother, Father, and I returned home the day after he and Pietro left South Bend."

"You didn't fly back together?"

Wanda shook her head sadly. "Justin and Pietro left the day of your funeral and we drove his car back the next day."

Puzzled, his eyebrows drew together. "Missed that part. What happened?"

Wanda chanced a glance around the room to make sure they were truly alone and that Justin wasn't eavesdropping. "You know about his girlfriend, Rey?" Sean nodded. "She was in a bad car accident the day of your funeral." She hesitated to tell her nephew's secret that he asked her to keep, but then Sean was a special case. "At the time, Justin did not know that she was pregnant with his child. The accident caused her to lose the baby."

Sean got up, walking in a circle while ruffling his hair. To her, he barely looked like the man she'd known for so short a time and imagined that he now more closely resembled the man he'd been before the cancer took over.

"Oh, _man_. No wonder he's not happy to see me."

"Under normal circumstances, he would be, but this is not normal. Had he known that Rey was having his baby prior to your arrival at his apartment, he likely would not have accompanied you to South Bend, or she might have gone along." Wanda motioned for him to join her on the sofa. "Please do not let him know that I told you. Besides Chase and Iris, they don't want anyone else in the family to know."

He waved a hand. "Won't say a word."

She smiled, and again reached for his hand, passing through to touch the cushion instead. "His sister gave birth a few days ago. My mother will be giving birth soon, and in a few months, so will Mia."

~~O~~

At hearing the news that Mia was pregnant, Sean gave a whoop of excitement, jumped up and did a little dance. " _Yes_! We did it! I'm gonna be a dad!" He spun around, his jubilation undimmed by the look of puzzlement on her face. Then, he understood. "Ah. She didn't tell you."

"Mia is not good at sharing."

He pushed the giddiness down and returned to his seat. "The day we left for South Bend, Mia got me involved in her not-so-little scheme to be a surrogate for Joi and her husband. Her argument that my talent deserved to be passed on to future generations was quite convincing as it, uh, gave me a selfish motive for providing the DNA to make it a reality." A brief flash of guilt flickered in her eyes, and Sean wished he could, just for a moment, give her physical comfort. "What's wrong, auntie?"

Wanda motioned for him to follow, and soon, they were in the room where he'd appeared to Justin. Only now, it was empty. Without an invitation, Sean sat on the end of Justin's bed, giving her time to get her head straight.

Finally, she faced him. "There are only a few outside the family who know what I am about to tell you. As you are a spirit and we developed a rapport, I'm certain I can count on your discretion." She paced over to look out the window and came back. "Pietro and I are what the American government have been calling Inhumans. He has been endowed with super-speed and rapid healing. His thoughts are racing so fast that to him others seem to be moving at less than a snail's pace. That is how Justin got from South Bend to home."

"Okay. He's fast. What's your superpo-Oh… my… God…" The last word trailed off as a stream of red mist flowed between her outstretched arms.

"It's called psionic energy manipulation." Sean's mouth dropped open as she lifted off the floor, and lightly touched down. "Levitation. I can generate a force field, create energy blasts, move things with my mind, sense thoughts and emotions, even manipulate the minds of some." She came to sit next to him. "I am also able to transfer this energy to another in order to facilitate minor physical repairs, or as I did for you, keep your body going beyond the time that it would have shut down."

"Ah. So that's why…"

She nodded. "…Justin had you make me a part of your entourage. At first, I only needed to be within viewing distance to affect the transfer. Closer to the end, it became necessary to have physical contact, so he convinced your father to allow me to perform 'nursing' duties in order to be nearby when needed. Have you any memories of the day you went into the coma?"

He waggled his hand. "Kinda sorta. I remember being angry with Dad about something, but not the details." Holding up a hand, he looked her in the eye. "Don't want them. Tell me about the funeral."

"Do not torture yourself with things that are irrelevant, Sean." He crossed his arms stubbornly and she gave in. "The chapel was full. Many who attended had to stand."

"SRO. Cool!"

The term must've been explained to her previously because she didn't ask. "Justin and your parents agreed to only inform family and close friends. There was an announced made to the public a few days later. Your fans created a memorial to you in front of the Morris Performing Arts Center because they did not know the location of your father's home." Hands in her lap, she gave him a sad smile. "Justin gave a beautiful eulogy. And the car you left him was donated to an automobile museum in your name."

"Sweet." Something he heard earlier came back. "Before, those men you were with said there were three spirits haunting the hotel. I'm new, so it couldn't have been me they were talking about."

"Besides Eva and King, there is a spirit that keeps to the basement for the most part. He was once a hitman for a mob based in Chicago. His name is Dalton. My research indicated that he had come to California on… I believe it is called a working vacation. Three days after he arrived, the hotel's staff reported him missing. At that time, the mid-sixties, forensics were in their infancy and DNA profiling had yet to be discovered. His body was unearthed during renovations a few years ago, but he has only become truly active since Justin and I arrived. I am not certain, but it could have something to do with my psionics."

Sean poked a thumb over his shoulder. "And those three guys… How could they see me? How could _Justin_ see me?"

Her cheeky smile was infectious. "Spirits can make themselves visible. However, my psionics were used to facilitate it. The sandy haired man is Dean Winchester. The tall man is his brother, Sam. They are called hunters. The third is Castiel. He's an angel who has taken possession of an earthly vessel. I have read up on this. Angels and demons are able to use humans as their vessels. The difference is demons _take_ what they want, while angels ask permission."

"If I wanted to, you know, temporarily use someone's body, I'd have to ask first?"

Something about her smile was off now. "Please. However, you wouldn't need permission to tag along if someone carried your pendant with them."

An idea began forming in Sean's head as he made plans to keep Justin focused on his goal. He'd have to give it a little more thought. He and Wanda were startled out of their thoughts at a knock. A bright smile lit up her face as she rushed to open the door.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Pacing outside the bathroom door, Bucky rubbed his hands together, listening to the water splashing in the tub and working on a plan to surprise his wife. The last few weeks, she was obsessed with taking baths, showers, anything with water. He nearly had to drag her inside when he came home from work to find her sitting in the rain. Swimming would work, but because it was winter, the public pool wouldn't be open for weeks yet. There _had_ to be a way…

He grabbed his phone and stepped into the hall, speed dialing a specific number. "Chase! I need your help. Do you know anyone with a pool?"

" _My condo has one, but I'm living with Iris now and Andre's out of town for the next couple of weeks. Why?_ "

"Damn! Tasha's been having dreams about us together, and they're always the same. We're in caves, grottos, swimming pools, lakes, ponds. Bruce says it has to do with being pregnant." He listened at the door in case Natasha was ready for him to help her out of the tub. "She's driving me nuts taking three or four baths a day. If you know anyone with a pool, even if it's outside, please ask if we can use it."

Though he tried to hide it, Bucky could hear the laughter in his grandson's voice. " _Sure. I have an idea, Gramps. I'll work on it and get back to you_."

Holding the phone in his hand, Bucky continued to pace, nearly jumping when it rang. "Yeah?"

" _James, it's Iris. Chase told me about your dilemma and I've called to offer a solution_."

Relief rolled over him. "You can? That's great."

" _Here's what you do…_ "

 **That Evening**

"Another surprise? The gun show has moved on, we went out to dinner a few nights ago, and your birthday isn't for a couple of weeks," Natasha reminded her husband. "Besides, you wouldn't plan your own surprise birthday party, so what's going on?"

He kept his eyes on the road, a secretive smile on his lips. At the light, he reached into the back seat for a bag and dropped it in her lap. "Don't open it until we get there."

Huffing, Natasha settled back to relax as much as possible in her condition. It seemed like every day she grew more and more uncomfortable no matter how she lay or sat or moved. And if, by some chance, she did get comfortable, just as she was about to go to sleep, Esme would begin kicking. "Oh!" She grinned at Bucky. "She's kicking again. I wish there was a way to get her to sleep when I sleep and be awake when I'm awake." She instinctively clutched the bag tighter. "Are there towels in here?"

"Maybe." He turned into a parking lot and drove around to the side entrance. "Here we are." The engine shut off. Bucky came around to help Natasha out, taking out a single key on a ring. He unlocked the side door, ushered her inside and locked the door behind them.

The distinctive smell of chlorine filled the air, telling her they were in a gym. When they reached the pool area, Natasha took a deep breath and let it out. "How did you know?"

"All those baths. Connie did the same thing. Back then, we belonged to the Y." He laid the bag on a bench and pulled out a wad of colorful clothing, holding it up so she could see that it was a bathing suit. "If it's too big, don't kill me. I couldn't ask your size if I wanted it to be a surprise."

Natasha gathered Bucky into a hug and kissed him. "You're the best husband and father ever." She took the bathing suit and a towel from the bag and went into the women's locker room.

" _Thank Iris. Her physical therapist owns the gym_."

"I'll do that. Are you going in with me?" Natasha heard a footstep behind her. Knowing it was Bucky she smiled but didn't turn around. They undressed and put on their suits. Taking her hand, he led her to the shallow end of the pool, going down the steps ahead of her. "O-oh. It's cold."

His smile was warm and affectionate. "We can take a hot shower together afterwards."

The water came up to her chest, taking the strain off her back and legs. She lifted her feet, using her hands to tread water. "As long as we pick up something to eat on the way home."

Natasha had floated away from the steps and Bucky glided through the water to her side. "Whatever you want. I don't have to be back to the museum until next Tuesday."

She went to him, holding his face between her palms and bringing him down for a sweet kiss. "Then you're all mine."

"Always."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Justin rode down to the lobby, looking around for Wanda and Sean. They'd gotten close in the short time they'd known each other, and he expected to find them keeping company, but didn't see them. Next on his list were those three guys, Sam, Dean and Castiel.

As if he'd summoned him, Castiel appeared next to him. "My apologies for earlier, Justin. You were causing a scene and Dean asked me to remove you from the area. It was my own idea to put you to sleep."

Taking the other man's arm, Justin dragged him out to the patio. Thankfully, it was empty at the moment. He noted idly that the pool had been drained and there was a sign saying it was closed for repairs. Its only relevance was due to the fact that he told Wanda he would teach her to swim. "About that… What exactly _are_ you? How did you…"

"Dean calls it zapping. It's a form of teleportation." He looked down at himself. "I'm an angel, one of God's Chosen." Guilt entered Castiel's eyes. "Or rather, I was. It's… complicated."

Justin waved away his explanation. "Did you bring Sean's spirit here to torment me?"

The self-proclaimed angel was taken aback. "It was not my doing. You did that yourself by possessing an object that belonged to Sean in life and by your thoughts of not following through on your promise to a dying friend."

"Sean told you that?"

"No. As an angel, my grace gives me the ability to perceive the unperceivable and act on that knowledge." Castiel looked at him with sadness in those all-seeing eyes. "While awaiting judgment for his earthly conduct, Sean was summoned before a sort of divine council and given a chance to… Dean would say 'up the ante'."

Dropping into a chair with a sigh, Justin invited Castiel to do the same. "He's here to increase his chances of ascending to the penthouse instead of heading to the dungeon by buggin' the shit out of me?"

One side of Castiel's mouth turned up in the first sign of humor he'd seen on the angel's stoic continence. "You are much like Dean in your interpretation of the Christian beliefs of heaven and hell."

"I'll take that as a compliment, simply because I've only met the guy once."

"As you should." In an obvious attempt to appear relaxed, the angel crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his stomach. "In helping Sean ascend into heaven, you would be helping yourself as well." He looked down at his hands and back to Justin. "That is not to say you will be dying soon. Far from it. You are destined to live a long and fruitful life. More than that, I cannot say. Simply put, be the best you can be at what you do best, or you will regret it for the remainder of your earthly existence. The regret will cause rifts in your relationships with loved ones to whom you are close."

Thinking over Castiel's words, Justin somewhat agreed. He did have one question. "Not sure if you know the answer or aren't allowed… Not long ago, my girlfriend was pregnant with our child. She had a miscarriage, and I was wondering…"

Suddenly, both men were standing in a field of nothing. White fog clung to the ground or floor, he couldn't tell which, obscuring the world around them. "This is the only place where we can truly have privacy for this conversation." Castiel's clothing changed to a dark suit worn under a rumpled trenchcoat. "If I were to accede to your request to know the gender of the child you lost and how his or her life would have played out, it would torture you for the rest of time, even upon your death and that of the mother." Until now, his voice had been a boring monotone for the most part. Now, Justin sensed an underlying layer of steel that couldn't be breeched. Castiel literally stood nose to nose with him, all traces of humor or jocularity gone. "Do not _ever_ ask such a thing of me again, Justin. I will tolerate the occasional similar question from Dean and Sam. However, they know better than to expect an answer they don't really need or want. Such a mistake is not easily forgiven by myself or my superiors."

In the blink of an eye, they were back on the patio and Castiel was once again dressed to sorta blend into the California environment. Justin nodded once. "Understood. So, what's next on the agenda?"

"You do not trust the Winchester brothers to perform duties for which they have a great many years' experience." Castiel snapped his fingers again and they appeared inside a room that wasn't Justin's. Sam and Dean were sitting at the table with what looked like an industrial sized stud scanner and several weapons, one of which Dean was cleaning.

Dean let out a long sigh. "Cas…"

The angel immediately looked contrite. "We should've knocked and waited for an invitation to enter."

"Right. Now, because you're both here, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say Justin's joining us on our little recon of the basement."

Feeling that his life was swerving out of his control, Justin stepped forward. "If this spirit is endangering not only the occupants of this hotel, but Eva and King as well, I'm in. Just tell me what you need me to do."

Sam smiled while still working on the scanner. "For now, we're fact-finding. How did he die? Why hasn't he moved on? What's his agenda? Is he seeking revenge, looking for someone, needing closure on his own death?"

"We've already seen that he can physically attack humans," Justin reminded him. "How do we fight him?"

Castiel moved to the other side of the table. "Until we know why his soul has remained all these years, we can only surmise, as well as defend ourselves and others."

Dean nodded toward a beat-up duffle bag. "Ghosts can't cross a line of salt. Not fond of iron either. Both can repel a ghost and kick 'em out of a body they've possessed. We'll go into vanquishing mode later, once we have all the facts." The look in his eyes said he was deadly serious. "From observation, if this Dalton gets his grimy ghost-hands on your spirit friends, he could drain their energy enough to destroy them."

"Sounds like you have more than a little experience with ghosts."

Both Winchesters snorted, Sam answering for them. "We're hunters. It's the family business."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "All the way back to the wild west."

Sam stood to pass out flashlights. "Let's get started. This could take a while. If we can get Dalton to cooperate, maybe he'll tell us what we need to know. If not, we'll have figure it out on our own."

Once again, Castiel snapped his fingers, and all four men found themselves at the top of the basement stairs.

~~O~~

Because Justin was wearing pendant, Sean, who had been eavesdropping from the closet-Eva and King's idea, decided to tag along just in case the guys needed help. The part about one ghost draining the energy from another gave him a moment's pause, but he'd never been one to take the easy route out, his abortive attempt at committing suicide notwithstanding.

He could've stayed with Wanda but didn't want to intrude on her time with the young man who'd knocked on the door. The smile and passionate kiss with which she greeted him made Sean's presence not only unnecessary, but creepy in the extreme when they fell on the bed together, tearing at each other's clothes.

Not a vision he wanted in his head at any time, and especially not now when there were more important issues at hand, like keeping that guy Dalton from bugging the shit out of his new friends or hurting the other mortals staying at the hotel.

As they descended the steps, Sean tried out one of his new abilities and dropped down through the floor as they reached the bottom. He kept himself invisible so as not to distract them from their purpose.

Speaking in hand signals, Dean had them spread out to cover as much of the open area as possible. Justin walked along the left side, sweeping the flashlight side to side, stopping here and there to examine an object or a dark corner more closely, not finding anything of interest. Sean could've told him that. Somehow, he was able to sense if an object was connected to the sinister presence. He could've made himself visible, but he wanted to stay in the background, be their ace in the hole, so to speak. Being new to the ghost biz, all his powers had yet to manifest, the idea, he guessed, was motivation. To know what he could do, he first had to have the need.

The closer they got to the boiler room at the other side of the room, the more antsy Sean became, along with another feeling he couldn't define.

He was about to take off when there came a shrill, blood-curdling scream. A grotesque spirit appeared through the wall to the right of the door, hands curled into talons, screeching as it flew at the men.

Of the four, only Castiel didn't react. Sam, Dean and Justin swung iron bars at the spirit, but it dodged each one. Sam reached into the bag he carried and threw a handful of salt at spirit. It screamed and retreated, hovering near the ceiling.

Taking a step forward, Castiel spoke. "We don't want to hurt you, Dalton. We're here to help."

"Help?" He laughed, a cruel and vicious sound that echoed from the walls. Unlike King and Eva, Dalton's voice was strident, filled with madness. "Don't need or want your help! The person who killed me has to pay, and they will, with their lives and those of their families!" The wisps of ectoplasm settled into a human-like form standing in front of the metal door. His eyes flitted from one to the other, grinning savagely. "I need a body to leave this place. Which of you will it be, huh?"

His eyes, the glow in them pulsing as if to a heartbeat, quickly looked over each of the men. When they touched on Castiel, there was a brief flicker of… Sean didn't know what to call it. Fear? Not really. Anger? Definitely. But more than that.

Without warning, Dalton leapt through the air, apparently having chosen Justin as his vessel. Not giving himself a chance to chicken out, Sean made himself visible, shouting, "No!"

He launched himself between Justin and Dalton, the impact of the spirits colliding causing waves of energy to expand out from that point, knocking the others to the floor.

 **TBC**


	149. Chapter 149

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Note: RL is being a pain at the moment. If possible, I will still be posting updates, but don't be surprised if I don't. Thanks.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 149**

Justin's danger sense started tingling as soon as Dean picked the lock on the basement door, growing with each step they took, nearly triggering his fight or flight instinct that had served him so well in the past. Okay, so maybe not so much. Rybakova and his cohorts had caught up with him after he'd fallen over the cliff and Wanda had managed to do the same at the rec center Halloween night. No running this time, but then the situation was different. There was so much more at stake than his life _or_ his pride.

When Dalton's spirit erupted from the boiler room, Justin's danger sense had become a shrill whine, like a siren that only had one tone.

As the angry spirit leapt at him, Justin reached for the iron fireplace poker taken from the Winchesters' room and shoved into the back of his pants, ready to fight him off. The poker hadn't even cleared the waistband of his pants when they heard another sound, almost a shriek.

Sean's ghost appeared to his right. He shouted, "No!" and dived between Justin and Dalton, taking the impact. The energy release was strong enough to knock all four men to the floor. Their flashlights and weapons flew from their hands and the power shut off. Somehow, Sam kept hold of the scanner.

The two spirits wrestled, seeming to be evenly matched in strength. When it became apparent that he couldn't outmaneuver Sean, screaming with rage, Dalton shoved him away, turned into an amorphous cloud and returned to the boiler room.

Fearing for Sean, Justin swept his hands side to side, looking for the flashlight he'd dropped. His hand closed around it, but before he could turn it on, there was an exclamation of disbelief to his right.

"Whoa! Yeah! Sonofa _bitch_!" At first, Justin thought it was Dean, but the voice was too close. Then, a glowing light appeared, quickly coalescing into the shape of a man. Sean looked down at himself, flexing his hands as if he'd never seen them before, and grinning ear to ear. "Fan-*******- _tastic_!" His form gave off an eerie glow bright enough that Justin and his companions could sort themselves out and gather their dropped equipment and weapons. The grin turned into a smirk. "Who's got it goin' _on_?" He jabbed both thumbs at himself. " _This_ guy! You're welcome."

The four men formed a circle around Sean. Dean held up a hand. "Whoa-whoa- _whoa_! What the _hell_ just happened?"

~~O~~

The flashlights went out, their power cells overwhelmed by the energy created when the spirits collided. The four men picked themselves up, awed by the spectacle.

Not once in all the time they'd known each other had Justin given any thought to how Sean would fare in a physical confrontation. The old trope "I'm a lover not a fighter" didn't hold water. Sean would have rather walked away than hit someone, and those times it was called for, he'd let Justin step in. Now he knew why. The boy could _fight_! Or maybe it was the power of his anger upon seeing Dalton attempting to take possession of his former husband's body. Not that Justin would've allowed it.

Sam shut off the scanner when the whine became more than they could handle. "I've never seen that happen before."

Wanting to hug Sean, but knowing he couldn't, Justin raised his arms and let them slap against his thighs. "Didn't know you had it in you, Chipmunk."

Still giddy, Sean blew on the knuckles of one hand and rubbed them on the front of his shirt. ""Twern't nothin'. Couldn't let him take over your body."

All five turned when the door at the top of the stairs slammed against the wall followed by two sets of footsteps.

~~O~~

Raising her arms so Aaron could take her top off, Wanda hooked one leg over his, pulling him closer. When the material was finally discarded, she went to work on the buttons of his shirt while kissing him frantically. In the back of her mind, there was more than one reason they shouldn't be doing this now, but dismissed them.

She pulled the shirt from Aaron's waistband and had one arm out when she was hit with a mental blast that sounded like voices screaming in pain. Or rather that was the closest analogy she could come up with. Having touched all the minds within a short period of time, Wanda recognized each individual's unique thought patterns. The one that scared her the most was Dalton.

Wanda pushed Aaron away and he landed on the floor with a thump. "Hey! What the hell? Did I do something wrong?"

She tossed his shirt to him, picked hers up and pulled it on over her head, all in one smooth motion. "I have to go!" Out in the hall, Aaron dogged her to the stairwell. She pushed the door open, explaining as she ran down the stairs. "There is an emergency, Aaron. Please go, and I will call you later."

He finished buttoning his shirt, leaving the tail out, easily keeping pace. "What kind of emergency? And how did you know? The phone didn't ring and we were too busy to answer it anyway."

Letting out a silent sigh, Wanda glanced at him as they hit the next landing. "It is difficult to explain, but my nephew and his friends are in trouble. I must help them."

Aaron took out his phone. "Shouldn't we call the police?"

Resisting the urge to knock him out and be done with his questions, she shook her head. "Calling the police would only complicate an already complex matter. They would be ineffective under these conditions." His worry touched her mind, but he didn't give voice to the usual sexist platitudes, for which she was thankful, and would bring them even closer together.

"If you're going, _I'm_ going. I have some medical knowledge, if they're hurt." The phone went back into his pocket.

At the next landing, Wanda stopped and faced Aaron, taking hold of both hands. "We have to talk, but now is not the time. There are things about me you don't know. If we do this together, those secrets may come to light, and they could change the way you feel about me."

Aaron's eyes tracked back and forth with his thoughts. They'd only known each other a short time, and while she didn't see their relationship continuing beyond her stay in California, she did want to spend as much time with him as possible. It was a risk she had to take, no question. There was also the possibility that this event, whatever it was, wouldn't need the services of a psionic. But her nephew and their new friends were in trouble. She had to act.

Suddenly, she was in his arms. "Nothing could change the way I feel about you." They separated. He took her hand and headed down the stairs again. "We're in this together. I just wish we'd taken the elevator."

Buoyed by his faith, Wanda sped up. "Too slow."

On the first floor, they pushed out the door, around the corner and down the hall to another door that said, "No Admittance - Staff Only". As she suspected, it was unlocked. Aaron pushed it open and they were greeted by an inky blackness. She flipped the switch, but the lights didn't come on. Without a word, he ran back the way they'd come, and returned in less than a minute with a flashlight. He shone it down the stairs, cutting a narrow swath through the darkness.

As they neared the bottom, an eerie light became visible to Wanda's left. Using a soft ping, she found that Aaron didn't see it and knew it was Sean because she could feel his presence. It was the same yet different than when he was alive. Then, she felt his anger, frustration, and despair at his condition, coloring his every waking moment, as well as his dreams. Now, there was none of that. In fact, he seemed exceptionally pleased with himself.

Wanda and Justin saw each other at the same time. They ran together and hugged tight. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we're good." The lights came back on, and everyone turned to see Sam standing by several enormous electrical panels. Whatever happened had apparently tripped the breakers for the basement, but hadn't touched the upper floors.

Justin looked past her to Aaron standing apart from everyone looking uncomfortable. His muscles tensed, and she sent her nephew a quick ping of warning.

Aaron turned off the flashlight and pushed it into his back pocket. "Hi. I'm Aaron."

Dean apparently didn't like the idea of his presence. "What're you doing here?"

Returning to Aaron's side, she held his hand. Pointing, she made introductions. "These are friends of ours, Dean, Sam, and Castiel."

There was a shimmering in the air between Justin and Dean, and Sean reappeared. Wanda gave her companion a gentle mental nudge and received the answer she wanted. Aaron still couldn't see Sean. That could be easily remedied, but they had to talk before she revealed her powers.

"So, what's going on? Why's everyone in the basement?"

The four men and one ghost shared glances before Dean responded with, "Scavenger hunt."

Puzzled, Aaron opened his mouth and closed it again when Wanda squeezed his hand. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Castiel shifted his feet. "We did." To the others, he said, "Perhaps we should move on to the next item on our list."

Without a word, the men climbed the stairs, Justin bringing up the rear. He gave Wanda and Aaron a look that told her they'd be having a private conversation later. She was not looking forward to it.

Sean smiled and waved, and the next moment, he was gone. He'd only been a ghost for a short time, but seemed to have better grasp on his abilities than Eva and King, who'd been in spirit form for much longer. With him, it had to be instinctive. Too bad he was only here to complete his unfinished business.

While she'd been thinking, Justin was watching her from three steps up, waiting for them to follow. At the top of the stairs, Wanda sensed Castiel had left the area. Sam and Dean were waiting for them in the cubby area that had apparently become "their" spot. They couldn't talk privately here, so after a quickly whispered conversation, they all went their separate ways.

Justin led the way to the elevators, and the trio got on. Somewhere around the fifth floor, he finally spoke. "If he's gonna keep coming around, Wanda, we need a signal."

"What sort of signal?"

She felt his humor before he spoke. "A sock on the doorknob."

~~O~~

Standing in front of the mirror, Amara examined her reflection. She wore the t-shirt Justin had given her and pajama pants. Her teeth had been brushed and flossed, and her hair combed. Before dinner, she'd gotten in thirty minutes of running on the treadmill though she'd lied to her mother and said it was an hour. Tonight, she would defy her mother yet again. She took a deep breath, turned out the light, and opened the door.

Her mother was sitting at the desk hammering away on her laptop, just like always. And when she wasn't on the computer working, she was pushing, pushing, pushing for Amara to become a star. She always thought it was so Mom wouldn't have to work anymore, and thus far, nothing had changed that opinion.

Then, she noticed her mother's clothing. Gone were the unflattering business suits and low-heeled pumps that were like a uniform for her job as the owner of a real estate company. In their place were Capri pants, and a matching tank top. A pair of sandals lay on the floor under the table. Instead of sitting with her back ramrod straight, her mother was sitting on one foot, and the other flat on the seat with the knee up. She also had a pen clamped in her teeth. Something she'd never ever seen her do.

Because Annalee didn't like to be disturbed while she was working, Amara pulled the covers down and sat on the side of the bed to check that the alarm was set.

"Come here, Amara."

She rushed over, standing ready for whatever lecture she was in for tonight. "Something wrong, Mom?"

Annalee set the pen aside, closed the laptop and took hold of Amara's hand. Again, not something she did with any regularity. "I should've told you this long ago." Their eyes met and her mother smiled. "I hate my job. I'm _really_ good at it, but I hate it. The tromping from house to house in all kinds of weather and the clients still aren't happy even when the houses are exactly what they told me they wanted. The complaints when the closing isn't fast enough, and especially when they blame me for something that goes wrong in the home after it's all official and finalized and not my problem anymore. And I really hate the cold weather."

"What're you saying?"

"I'm not _saying_ anything. I'm _asking_ your opinion." The smile on Annalee's face made her look years younger than the omnipresent scowl she'd worn since she divorced Dad. "What would you say if I sold the business and we moved here, to California? Is that something you'd be on board for?"

Momentarily stunned at the confessions, Amara didn't know what to say. "Um, you want to move here so I have a better chance of becoming a star?"

"No, of course not, honey. Winning would be great, but it's not the end of the world if you don't." Annalee pulled out the other chair for Amara. "I'm doing this for us. We deserve to enjoy life, not be restricted by boring clothing and boring jobs, surrounded by boring people." A smile like none she'd seen before lit up her mother's face and that's when she noticed that the only make-up she wore was a light coating of lip gloss. "I want us to have _fun_. While I was out the other day, I saw a shop with a for sale sign in the window. They sell clothes, bathing suits, surfboards, souvenirs, snack, drinks, snow cones, and more." She chuckled. "I know absolutely _nothing_ about running a surf shop, but I really, _really_ want to do this. What do you say?"

"Uh, wow. I mean, yeah. If that's what _you_ want to do."

Her mother squealed and threw her arms around her, hugging tight. "You won't regret it, honey. I'm going to talk to the owner of the shop tomorrow." She let go, opened the laptop and went back to work. "Oh, and call your Dad. I'm sure he misses you."

 **Secret HYDRA Base**

 **Mojave National Preserve**

 **California**

The indoctrination chair had been refined, upgraded and enhanced to the point where the only purpose was to confine the subject while a helmet was fitted over the head in order to download the mission information. In this refinement, there existed an as yet untried feature that, in simplest terms, programmed the subject with temporary personalities and skills, while at the same time allowing him full access to the training as a Winter Soldier.

Tonight would be the first use of this feature, and List wanted it to go exactly as planned. He'd done the programming himself. Had even worked with the team building the hardware as well as overseeing the testing. In his opinion, a field test was in order, the natural progression of the program.

Without turning from the computer, he issued orders to the guards. "Bring in Subject 497."

The guards returned, dragging a semi-conscious man between them. They slammed him into the chair, quickly clamping restraints around his biceps, wrists, ankles, and across his thighs.

List disconnected the fiberoptic cables from the helmet, made a few minor adjustments, and carefully fitted it over the subjects head. When he'd arrived at the Sokovian base, he had been bald, with glasses and three days growth on his cheeks and chin. His height hadn't changed, though now he had black hair down to his shoulders and a full beard that obscured his former self.

He adjusted the fit, fastened the strap under the chin, and stepped back. Holding the controller, he turned on the helmet, slowly increasing the power until it was at one hundred percent. Then, with a short prayer, List initiated the transfer.

The subject's hands clamped tight to the arms of the chair, his entire body stiffening in response to the transfer of information. His eyes opened wide and his breathing increased. Unlike the previous Winter Soldiers, this one didn't scream in pain though it was apparent from his features that it was felt, and that it was nowhere near what the last Winter Soldier experienced. Not that it mattered, but List preferred not to hear the screaming. It reminded him of a part of his past that was best not brought to mind.

The controller's lights blinked out, indicating that the transfer was complete. Taking a small step forward, List whispered, " _Soldat?_ "

The man's eyes slanted to him, and his breathing slowly returned to normal. "Ready to comply."

List was and wasn't surprised that the subject had responded in English when he should've used Russian. It was an issue with the programming that couldn't be changed, if the primary language being spoken on the mission was not Russian. The subject would still understand and speak Russian, but also any other language in which the original personality was fluent and the new one incorporated into the programming.

In this case, the original personality spoke his first language, English, in addition to Russian, Portuguese, Spanish, German, French, and Mandarin Chinese, meaning that all List required was to download the false persona with the mission parameters.

"What is your name, _Soldat_?"

"Emilio Gonzalez."

The voice was deeper and more accented than that of the original personality. Good. If he ran into anyone who had known him prior to his transformation, the voice wouldn't be immediately recognizable. "What will your position be on this mission?"

The eyes tracked over to his, blinked once, and lowered. "Maintenance."

"Good. Our man on the inside has already put the wheels in motion. Tonight, you will rest and the guards will take you there in the morning." List manipulated the controller in his hand and the subject was rendered unconscious. "Too bad we couldn't have done the same to your predecessors, 497. It would have saved HYDRA quite a bit of time and expense. There are others in place as well. We just have to wait for the right time to put them into action."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Wanda pursed her lips and used all her will power to keep from blushing. To her right, Aaron looked everywhere but at her, probably for the same reason. She reached out and hit the button for next floor. "We're going for a walk and then to eat."

"You're welcome to join us," Aaron added

Her nephew's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch, and he fought a smirk. "Thanks, but I'd rather not be a third wheel, if you don't mind. I'll just change and go to the gym. Later I'm meeting my teammates for beer and billiards."

Hands on hips, Wanda mock glared from the hallway. "Like _I_ was with you and your girlfriend when she had the broken leg?"

Justin held the door open when it tried to close. "I'll be in the gym for about an hour. You know, just in case you need a timeframe." He winked and closed the doors.

Wanda and Aaron looked at each other. He held her hand on the way to the stairs. "Girlfriend? I thought he was _gay_!"

Aaron held the stairwell door open, automatically following when she went up instead of down. "In my family, no one is exactly what he or she appears."

"Um, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Perhaps." Did she want to tell him her life story? Not yet, but soon. Maybe. Aaron stopped on the twenty-first floor landing, confused when she continued up to the roof access. "Wait for me here."

A quick touch from his mind told her he would still be here when she came out, no matter how long it took. In response, she gave him a quick kiss and let herself out onto the roof using psionics to unlock the door. She closed it firmly behind her and locked it again so he couldn't follow. She didn't believe he would spy on her, but didn't want to take the chance. Of course, all he'd see is a young woman talking to no one.

She found Eva and King standing at the parapet watching the water and the sun as it headed downward. "I'm here. What do you need?"

The couple shared a nervous glance. Eva nodded and sent King away leaving the women alone. "The, uh, subject matter is… delicate and King felt that we'd both be less embarrassed if we talk woman to woman." She motioned for Wanda to take a seat on the steps, and proceeded to pace, ringing her hands and refusing to look Wanda in the eye. "Before King and I are sent off to our just reward, we were hoping that you might find it in your heart to allow us…"

"What, Eva?"

Frustrated with herself, Eva stopped in front of Wanda, hands at her sides. "We want to be alive again. Just for a while. We want to share a meal," she faced the water, "dance, talk to people…"

Wanda came to stand next to her, a tender smile on her face. "You want to make love."

Eva sagged with relief. "I-I feel so foolish asking, but…"

"I understand. What did you have in mind?"

"Um…" Again, Eva looked away. "We came to your room the other day. Your young man was there and you were…" Pressing a hand to her mouth, Wanda turned away. She could feel Eva's hand on the skin of her arm, as if she were getting goose bumps. "We didn't stay long, I promise."

Moving over to the steps, Wanda sat down again. "For myself, I am willing. However, I could not allow King to take over Aaron's body without permission. In order to do as you are asking, it will be necessary for him to know of your existence." She created a small ball of psionic mist that entwined itself around her fingers. "And that would mean telling him of my abilities. We haven't spoken about Inhumans, so there is no way to know what his opinion is regarding people such as myself. I need time to come to a decision." She stood, smoothing the front of her pants and tugging the hem of her top down.

"All we ask is that you consider our request. Neither of us would hold it against you if you say no."

Wanda sensed Aaron's growing hunger that matched hers. "He's getting restless. We'll talk more after he's gone for the night." She took a step toward the door and stopped. "I would also like to ask a favor." Eva gave Wanda her full attention. "Tonight, could you and King stay away from this area? It is difficult to have time alone when I share a room with my nephew."

"Of course. Um, I've been wondering something. Were Sean and your nephew really married?"

"Yes, they were. Justin knew that Sean was dying and wanted his last days to be happy."

Eva nodded understanding. "So he's not… overly fond of men, if you know what I mean?"

Again, Wanda smiled. "He came out, told his family and friends, that he was gay at the age of fifteen. However, he no longer thinks of himself that way. Yes, he and Sean lived together for a while. Sometime after Sean left him, Justin began dating a woman. Then, he went through a horribly traumatic experience, and when he came home, he wasn't himself for a long time. The woman and he eventually got back together and are now talking about getting married."

The ghost thought that over. "A good friend of mine had a similar experience, though without the woman. My director friend preferred keeping male company. Many times, I would be his… he called it a Trojan girlfriend. We would make sure that the paparazzi took photos of us out in public together, holding hands and kissing. After he dropped me off at home, he would have dinner and spend the night with his current inamorata." She sat on the steps. "That's how it was in my day. Even the smallest hint of a rumor would have doomed his career. Sad really, when you think about it. He couldn't be himself or he would've lost everything, including his family." Going to the parapet, she looked out over the water. "That's why I was in my hotel room drinking alone the night I died. I was hiding out from the press so he could celebrate with his lover."

Wanda moved to her side. "I'm sorry."

She looked at her with a sad smile. "Don't be. What's done is done." Turning around, she leaned against the wall, the smile turning affectionate. "Besides, if I hadn't died, I would never have found King and fallen in love for real."

 **The Gym**

Lying on his back with a weight in each hand for butterfly lifts, Justin would've seen if Wanda and Aaron left the hotel, but they hadn't as yet. Because he could only tell what she was thinking or feeling if she let him, there was no way to know if they were in the room together, though it was a good guess they were. _Nat and Gramps will have my head on a platter if they find out Wanda was having sex on my watch_.

There was an odd pop and he could see Sean between his raised knees, standing at the end of the bench. "'Sup, Beeb?"

"Go 'way, Chipmunk. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sean lounged on the bench of the next machine over, knees crossed, and arm resting the weights. "I like watching you work out. Is that a crime?"

Justin finished his last set and rolled to his feet. Sean followed as he returned the weights to the rack. "You used to do that when we lived together, and it's as annoying now as it was then." He wiped down the weight bench, tossed the towel over his shoulder and adjusted the closures on his gloves on the way to the mats. Taking out his iPod, he stuck the earbuds in, turned it on, and lay down to do crunches. Halfway through David Guetta's "Titanium", static crackled in his ears. The music cut off and Sean was standing next to him.

" _That's_ what you work out to these days? Guetta's not bad, but the rest… Nicki Minaj, Mariah Carey, and Kanye are the most arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic assholes in the music industry. I know. I've met them all. Madonna, J-Lo, Adam Levine." He made a sound of disgust. " _Major_ disappointment for that last one. It's safe to say my crush on Adam is _way_ over. Cher wasn't bad. Just a little outspoken. You need some _real_ music to pump it up to."

Without stopping, Justin whispered out the side of his mouth, "Go haunt someone else. I'm trying to stay out of Wanda and Aaron's way."

"Aaron. That's the fellow that came to the basement with her? Seems nice. Glad she's making friends."

"Oh, they're more than friends."

The look on Sean's face would've been laughable at any other time. His eyes went wide and his eyebrows jerked upward. "What happened to her SO, Xiaoli?"

"They had a big fight. Now, she's an SE, significant _ex_." Justin turned onto his stomach and went into push-ups. "Apparently being bi runs in the family."

Sean lay down in front of Justin so they could see each other. "Meh. Aaron's not bad. Not my type though. Now that Castiel guy, he's a hot little number. I wonder which way _his_ door swings."

That did it. To cover his laughter, Justin sat up and held the towel over his face. "Not sure it swings at all. He struck me as asexual." He waggled his hand. "Seems to have a special fondness for Dean though."

Mirroring his position, Sean sat cross-legged on the mat, elbow on his knee and hand in the palm. "Whatever. Not even sure gettin' it on is possible for ghost. Change of subject. How about I go with you to the studio in the morning?" He held out his free hand. "I won't get in the way."

Because he knew how persistent Sean could be when he wanted something, Justin gave in gracefully. "Sure. Just stay out of trouble." Taking Sean's agreement for granted, Justin went into the locker room. His friend followed, leaning against the lockers and eyeing the scantily clad men going to and from the showers and urinals. When he didn't follow, Justin snapped his fingers. "Don't gawk."

Sean pointed. "Isn't that one of your competitors?"

Sure enough, Morgan was on the other side of the room standing in front of a mirror, wearing only a towel, flexing various muscle groups and smirking to himself. He took a toiletry kit from a locker and headed for the showers. "They're _all_ the competition. Come on." Taking a stall far from the others, Justin hung the towel on the hook and turned the water on to heat up while he undressed. He looked over and Sean was gone. Sticking his head out, he found his friend with his head through the shower curtain of another stall. "Sean!" he hissed. "Cut it out!"

Showing no remorse, Sean returned to lean against the wall next to the shower. "Just doing a little recon on the narcissist." He wiggled a pinky in the air. "His equipment's nothing to write home about."

Rolling his eyes, Justin got in the shower and pulled the curtain shut, not caring if Sean watched.

~~O~~

Instead of watching Justin shower, Sean roamed around the locker room, and when he got bored with that, he went over to the ladies' side. Seeing nothing of interest, he took a little stroll through the hotel, now and then playing a trick on some of the guests. Nothing big, except for one. He'd seen the guy in the gym not talking to or making eye contact with anyone. This close, he got a creepy vibe. Just on principal, he turned off the hot water in his shower, giggling madly when the cold water made him scream. "This is fun. Wonder what else I can do. I'll ask Sam and Dean." He tapped his chin with a finger. "Now where did those boys go?"

 **The Vine Café**

Each table in the café had a small plasma screen and a keyboard for use by the patrons. They could watch a movie, televisions shows, news programs, listen to music, and so forth. The one thing they couldn't access was porn in any form. It was a family-oriented business after all.

Wanda stirred her tea while Aaron flipped through the channels looking for something interesting to watch until their food arrived. "Stop!"

"What?"

"Go back… Let's watch that."

Aaron looked at the blurb. "Hmm. A documentary on Terrigen Crystals. I've heard of those. They turn humans into mutants."

Wanda saw this as an opportunity to educate him about the differences between Inhumans and mutants and hear his opinions on both in order to help her make the decision on whether or not to reveal her secret. "It's my understanding that mutants are born with the natural alterations to their genetic code already activated, either at birth or puberty, while Inhumans are mutants with these alterations dormant and they are activated by an outside force, such as the Terrigen Crystals. There are still others who submit to genetic experiments and have attained special abilities as a result."

"Like Captain America?"

"Yes. Just like that."

The light of interest shined in his eyes. "I'm fascinated by genetics. Almost chose it as my medical specialty." He shrugged one shoulder and hit enter to accept the program. "Might still do it. Just need to become a doctor first."

Smiling with genuine affection, Wanda touched the back of his hand. "With your kindness and compassion, I know you will make an exceptional one."

~~O~~

On their way back to the hotel, Wanda wanted to tell Aaron all about herself, but didn't dare. Not yet. She wanted them to have one more night together, just in case. During the program, she listened in on his thoughts, but only those about the information being broadcast. Nothing more.

They were walking hand in hand around a curve, and a gust of wind blew her hat into the street.

"I'll get it." Aaron chased the hat nearly to the other side, holding it up in triumph.

He headed back across, stopping momentarily when they heard a loud _bang!_ followed by the screeching of metal on metal. An eighteen-wheeler came around the curve, headed right for Aaron, who seemed mesmerized by the oncoming headlights.

 **TBC**

"Titanium" is a song by French DJ and music producer David Guetta, featuring vocals by Australian recording artist Sia, released December 2011.


	150. Chapter 150

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Note: Still having RL issues, and it doesn't look like they'll be over soon. Suffice it to say that I could use prayer and wishes.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 150**

The back end of the eighteen-wheeler swung around so fast, Aaron wouldn't stand a chance, and if it rolled over, the driver would likely be killed, as well as those in on-coming traffic. Wanda had to take the chance that she'd be seen using her powers.

~~O~~

Aaron made a split-second decision to keep running toward Wanda as the rig came skidding in his direction. It turned out to be the wrong decision. No way he could make it. Just when he thought it was all over, that his life was about to end, as if someone had pushed him out of the way, he fell to the ground and rolled under trailer, coming out on the other side as it screeched to a stop in the right lane, facing the wrong way, taking out light poles, about a dozen parked cars, and the front right corner of a small tattoo shop.

The driver's door popped open and a bald man in his early sixties was ejected, landing in a patch of grass and sand between two small buildings. Cars coming in both directions slammed on their brakes, many running into the rear of the one in front in a chain reaction.

Before Aaron could get out of the street, a pick-up truck came to an abrupt stop not two feet from where he lay, a reddish glow between him and it that faded almost immediately, giving him the impression that it was a trick of the street lights. Panting from all the adrenaline coursing through his system, he got his hands under his shoulders and pushed upright while he frantically searched for Wanda. She still stood on the sidewalk, her hands slowly falling to her side.

The driver of the pick-up came to help Aaron stand. "You okay, friend? Didn't see you there."

His passenger motioned for traffic to go around with one hand while he called 9-1-1. "Yeah, there's been a really bad accident half a block north of the Sudbury Court Inn. Multiple vehicles, including an eighteen-wheeler. Injuries too… Just hurry!"

That same reddish glow clung to Wanda's hands, fading while he watched. The pick-up's driver, a Hispanic man in his fifties, let him down near the rig's driver. Wanda seemed to be staring into space. Then, she dropped to her knees at his side. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Somehow, he still had her hat. He laid it next to him and turned around to look at the rig's driver. The man had a gash on one arm and even from here Aaron could see a goose egg on his bald head. Wanda helped him stand, and he gently pushed her hands aside. "See if someone will give us some warm water and clean towels. Disinfectant too, if they have it."

She hesitated, and he gave her a confident smile which she returned before jogging over to the store that hadn't been damaged. Both sides of the street were filling up with on-lookers, most of whom were content to stand and take video of the scene instead of helping the injured. Sirens coming from all directions filled him with relief that help was on the way.

Aaron knelt next to the bald man and smiled. "Hi. What's your name?"

"Mike. Ow!"

The last he said as Aaron carefully examined the gash on his arm. "Sorry. We need to clean the wound and bandage it to stop the bleeding. They'll stitch it up at the hospital, and you get a cool scar to show off to the fam." He helped the man out of his torn shirt, using it to wipe away some of the blood. "What happened?"

"One o' my back tires blew as I was comin' 'round that curve. Don't know how _you_ made it. I was sure you was a goner."

Aaron smiled ruefully. "Just glad my guardian angel wasn't sleeping on the job."

"Amen to that!"

Wanda knelt down beside him with a basin of water and several towels, waiting while he checked out the bump on Mike's head. "Might have a concussion too."

"I brought this too." Wanda held up ice wrapped in a towel. Without being asked, she gently touched it to the bump and the man used his good hand to hold it. "I will take care of Mike. You go check on the others."

With a smile of gratitude, Aaron ran to the people standing by their cars, some sitting with the doors open. "Anybody hurt?"

A few people raised their hands. "The paramedics are on their way." He found a woman trying unsuccessfully to open her car door. With a hard yank, he wrenched it open. The woman's airbags had deployed when she hit the person in front of her and was hit again from behind. A mixture of hot water and smoke was coming from the engine. "Let me have a look at you."

The woman's eyes filled with tears. She'd have a shiner at the very least. "I-I tried to miss them, but I couldn't stop in time."

"Not your fault. Are you hurt? Does anything feel broken?"

"Don't think so." She fumbled at her right hip. Aaron reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. "The engine's smoking. We need to get you out of here. Think you can stand?"

She nodded as she put first one foot then the other out. She was wearing shorts, a tank top and sandals, and both knees were bleeding from hitting the dash. Aaron put an arm around her waist and she gripped him around the neck as the first responders came roaring up to the scene with sirens screaming. A pair of paramedics grabbed their equipment and came running toward them as he let her down in the grass near Mike. Fire trucks pulled up to the scene, disgorging men and women in heavy uniforms, running here and there, helping the injured.

The first paramedic pushed him out of the way to get to the woman while the other knelt next to Mike, ignoring Wanda's attempt to help.

She stood and came to his side. They watched each other for a few tense seconds. "I'm glad you're alright," she whispered.

"Me too. _And_ I saved your hat." Aaron looked around. Police were directing traffic around the accident as more paramedics and fire engines arrived on the scene. He put the hat on her head. "Let's go back to the hotel."

"But what about…"

He waved at the organized chaos. "Won't even know we were here."

As they neared the hotel, the crowd became thicker, forcing them to push their way through. In the parking lot, Wanda tugged him to a stop. She seemed about to say something, surprising him by pulling him in for a kiss. Aaron was starting to feel the bumps and bruises from rolling on the hot asphalt, but having her hold him tight and kiss him so sweetly was more than worth it.

~~O~~

Standing at the back of the crowd, a young woman tiptoed to see what was going on while scanning for the person she'd come to see. She was slender, Asian, and dressed in a bright pink miniskirt with a narrow white belt, white midriff top with two pink hearts on the front, the neckline and around the bottom embroidered in silver, and matching high-top sneakers. The cross-body bag was a huge heart on a silver chain and her jewelry was enormous silver hearts. Her black hair had been alternately streaked with pink and white only on the sides with the back in a messy bun just above her nape.

The person she was looking for came into sight and the young woman raised her hand to flag her down. But then, something happened that made her smile transform into a frown as her hand returned to her side.

Wanda kissed the young man she was with and they walked into the hotel with their arms around each other in a way that looked intimate.

As they passed, Xiaoli hid her face so she wouldn't be seen, turning to watch the couple cross the lobby to the elevators without stopping at the front desk. She thought about following, wanting to talk to Wanda in person and not on the phone, but didn't see the point. She went back inside the hotel and marched up to the desk. "I left a message for Wanda Maximoff."

"Yes, I remember. How can I help you?"

Holding her emotions in check, Xiaoli smiled tightly. "I'd like it back, please."

Puzzled, but not one to ask personal questions, the clerk retrieved the handwritten message and slid it across the desk.

Xiaoli snatched it up, tore it into tiny pieces and dropped it in the trash can. "Don't tell her I was here."

"No, ma'am."

Sitting in her car, Xiaoli could only blame herself for the break-up. "And why not? It _was_ my fault." She started the car, buckled in, and left by the far driveway, turning left to avoid the accident. "Why should she care that I got early admission to medical school a few miles from her hotel, or that I finally told my parents about us?"

~~O~~

As they reached the elevators, Wanda's mind was touched by something that felt more than a little familiar. She turned to look but didn't see Xiaoli. Believing it was an aberration caused by the accident and Aaron's near-miss, she followed him into the elevator and hit the button for her floor, deciding it was time to tell him about her ex.

"The night we had dinner, I got a phone call," Wanda said without preamble. She kept her eyes on the floor lights. "From my now ex-girlfriend."

Aaron didn't speak for two floors. "Girlfriend? When you said I was your first, you meant first _guy_?"

"No. You were my first truly sexual experience." The elevator came to a stop and the door opened. Wanda didn't want to listen to his thoughts with her mind. She wanted to hear them from his own mouth. That he stayed at her side for the walk to her room didn't tell her much. He might've done it out of curiosity and would leave later.

At the door, he looked both ways, seeing they were alone, yet still lowered his voice. "What're we talking here? Second base? Third base?"

Confused, Wanda opened the door and shut them inside the room. "I don't understand."

"It's a metaphor for, uh, sex. First base is French kissing." Wanda offered him a seat on the sofa. By the way he moved, his body was sore from the push she'd given him with her psionics to avoid being hit by the big truck. She sat at the opposite end, patiently waiting for him to continue. "Second base is, uh," he made a motion with his hands, "pretty much what we were doing on the beach before the wave hit. Touching areas sensitive to sexual stimulation through the clothes." Blushing lightly, he kept going, and she sensed it was to finish quickly, to get it over. "Third base is touching below the waist though some versions stipulate, um, oral stimulation of the…"

Wanda let him know that she understood. "Then 'going all the way' is also referred to as a home run?"

"Yeah. There's more, but those are the high points."

"In that case, I would have to say that she and I never left the dugout."

Strangely, he chuckled and got up to walk around the room, his gate stiff rather than loose and carefree as it had been. "Kissing, no tongue?"

"Yes. We did not go beyond that, which is only part of the reason we are no longer a couple. Only her brother knows that she prefers women to men. She refused to tell her parents or allow us to express any affection in public. We only kissed when she knew no one would see us."

Aaron stood near the patio doors, stretching his sore muscles and watching her with an unreadable expression. "What about _your_ folks? You tell them?"

A rueful smile came over her face. "I didn't have to. But then, my family is a little more…"

"Liberal?"

She thought for a moment. "That's one way to say it. Mother is quite good at 'reading' people and has more modern ideas about pre-marital sex and traditional gender roles than Father. He too can read people, though not as well as Mother. As for my brother, we share the cliché twin bond." She snorted and covered her mouth for a moment. "It's likely he knew before I did that, under the right circumstances, I might be attracted to women. However, that is not to say that I've always leaned in that direction. Until Xiaoli, I had not examined my sexual identity beyond the occasional crush on a boy or a celebrity. Much like Justin. As a young man, he felt himself attracted to men more than women. However, he was also quite fond of the female form."

For a moment, Aaron didn't quite catch her drift and Wanda thought she would have to say it out loud. Then, he nodded. "Got it." Moaning in pain, he lay on the floor to stretch his leg muscles. "I'm more of a runner than into all that martial arts rolling on the ground stuff. Now everything's sore. Too bad you don't have Epsom salts. A hot bath would be brilliant."

By the time he finished stretching, Wanda had picked up the landline. "This is room 2104. Do you have Epsom salts? Would you send someone out for it, please? Enough for a long, hot bath… Thank you." She hung up and turned to him with a smile. "Room Service is sending someone out to get it." Wanda put her arms around Aaron and he immediately backed off. "Are you disturbed by…"

"No, not at all. It's more common than the ultra-conservatives want us to think." He took his shirt off and turned around to show a scrape on his right shoulder blade. "Didn't even feel it until now."

"I'm sorry." She led him over to the bed. "Take off your shirt and lie down on your stomach." In the bathroom, she wet a small hand towel and came back out. "This will sting." Wanda sat beside him, lightly dabbing at the scrape with the warm wet towel, making him hiss in pain. "Want me to stop?"

"No. It hurts, but it also feels good."

With his head turned away from her, Wanda used a small amount of psionic energy to encourage his bruises, scrapes and aches to heal themselves. By this time tomorrow, all but the worst of them would be gone. A soft snore came from his throat, and a few minutes later, Sean appeared.

"Yo, auntie. Whoa! Sorry. Didn't know you were busy."

She carried the towel into the bathroom. Sean took the hint and followed. "We are not busy, as you call it. There was an accident, and Aaron was nearly killed. He is lucky to have only slight injuries." She laid the towel on the counter to allow Sean to see the spots of blood.

"The one just up the road? Bummer."

Leaning against the counter, Wanda tilted her head to the side. "Why are you here? This room, at this time specifically."

"Don't worry. Not staying. I had a talk with those Winchester boys about what ghosts can and can't do and I might have an idea on how to get rid of our mutual headache, Dalton. I just gotta work out the deets." He waved his hands. "Do a little plotting and planning."

There was a knock, and in an instant, Sean had disappeared. Wanda opened the door, a finger to her lips to indicate silence. The young woman handed over the bag of Epsom salts and left without asking for a signature. In the bathroom, she read the label while the tub filled with hot water. She poured in the recommended amount and gave the water a stir with her hand. When it was full, she turned the water off and returned to the other room to find Aaron sitting on the foot of the bed rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Sorry I fell asleep."

"Don't be." Holding out her hand, she smiled when he took it and let her lead him into the bathroom. Wanda helped Aaron get undressed and while he soaked, she carried his clothes out to the other room and closed the door. The shirt and pants were both ripped but could be worn as work clothes. Still, she took Justin's sweatpants and a t-shirt out for him to wear home. And while she wanted to pick up where they left off earlier, she knew Aaron needed rest more than sex.

~~O~~

With his head resting on the back edge of the tub, Aaron let his thoughts drift, and naturally, his mind brought up the moment he truly thought he'd die, going over those few moments again and again, as if stuck on repeat. Each scene jerked and jumped, like one of those old-fashioned movie machines when the handle was cranked.

He was about to drift off when his mind picked out specific elements to highlight that they all had in common: a dark reddish glow. The first was as the back end of the trailer skidded around until it was in the perfect position to miss him, even if he'd stayed still. Next, the glow was between him and the grill of the pick-up, giving the appearance of a barrier that had stopped the vehicle's forward motion before he would be run over. The third scene was the same ribbon of red that opened the rig's driver's door and flung Mike into the grass where he would have a semi-soft landing.

Then there was Wanda's odd behavior. When it all began, her eyes had gone dark, and her facial features had taken on a mask of intense concentration. Most women, or even men, would've called out at seeing him in danger. She merely lowered her hands to her side and came to him once he was sitting in the grass.

There was also the fact that she knew Mike's name without being told. And before, when they were on the bed, she just knew her nephew and the others were in trouble.

Was she an Inhuman, a mutant or a genetic experiment? Is that why she insisted on them watching the documentary, using it as a way to gauge his thoughts on the subject? He understood why she would keep it a secret. Considering her past, she and her brother had trust issues, and he didn't blame them. He would too under the same circumstances, and they hadn't known each other long enough to have complete and unshakeable faith in each other. Aaron snorted to himself. You didn't have to fully trust someone to have sex with them.

He wouldn't say anything to her. Not yet. If she wanted him to know, it had to be _her_ decision.

Aaron pulled the plug and got out of the tub. The Epsom salts had worked wonders. Most of his aches were nearly gone. He dried off, slung the towel around his hips and opened the door to find Wanda standing there in her pajamas holding the same sweatpants and t-shirt she'd given him their first night together. With a smile, he took them and deliberately let the towel fall to the floor, knowing she was watching as he dressed.

Wanda picked up the towel and went to hang it in the bathroom then took his hand to lead him over to the bed. He laid down on top of the covers and she lay beside him, cuddled against his side, and within moments, both were asleep.

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **Late Morning**

Chester looked up at the knock on his open door. He motioned the man in and stood to shake his hand. "So, you're the new guy. I'll have you spend a day or two with one of the crew until you get to know your way around. Then, we'll send you out on a couple of jobs on your own."

"I appreciate you giving me this chance, sir."

"Chester. Not sir. We don't stand on formalities here." He searched his desk but couldn't find the papers he was looking for. "I can never find anything. Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Gonzalez. Emilio Gonzalez."

Another man appeared in the doorway. "This is Lowell. You'll be working with him today. If there's anything you need, just ask."

To Chester, Emilio's eyes were dark and wary as they shook hands again. "I'll do that."

~~O~~

Sitting in a corner of the dining room away from everyone else, Justin tried and failed to ignore Sean's incessant chattering.

"…and _where_ did they find that Jose guy? He's no more from Venezuela than I am." Justin kept quiet, going over the song he'd chosen for the first elimination round while letting Sean's words float around him. "What's with that diva at the judge's table? Will her face crack if she smiles? It's good to see Jimmy again. Ambiguous was his opening act for part of Fallen Angels' European tour before we went out on our own. Got to be good friends. Good enough to show each other photos of our loved ones. His wife is beautiful and so are his kids. I showed him one of us together. Think it was from that trip to Atlantic City when I lost my shirt playing poker. Troya looks like a hungry jungle cat. Better not turn your back on her. Never met Bravo in person. He's okay, but not as talented as…"

Pushing the food around on his plate, Justin sniped, "Will you _please_ shut up for a while? I'm trying to concentrate on my routine."

Sean slumped in his chair. "Can't help it. I'm _bored_."

"You said you'd behave, if I let you tag along." Justin held up a finger. "Tripping Jose every five minutes is _not_ behaving."

Sean shrugged his shoulders without remorse. "He's being a grade A asshole to all the women. Is he a misogynist or a plain old pain in the ass?"

"Both."

His friend snickered. A sure sign he had something up his sleeve. "I should possess him, hit on all the men, and when someone takes me up on my offer, leave just as the fun begins. Would serve him right."

"You're Justin Lockwood, right?"

The voice belonged to Jimmy Blue. He was holding a cup of coffee and dish of rice pudding. Justin wiped his mouth and hands as he stood. "Yes, sir. Join me?"

Jimmy sat in the chair Sean was using. Justin cringed at his friend's outraged, "Hey, watch it. Just cuz I'm dead doesn't mean you gotta be a jerk, Jimmy." Sean jumped up and stood between them with his arms crossed, pouting. "Sometimes, being dead sucks."

He waved Sean away, turning it into a brush at his hair. Sean made a face. "I'm gonna go see who Jose is abusing now, maybe do a little more than trip him this time."

Jimmy unwrapped his spoon, using it to stir the pudding. "Remembered where I've seen you before." Justin kept chewing a bite of stew without responding. "Sean Riggs. You're the ex-boyfriend, aren't you?"

With a sheepish grin, Justin picked up his glass of iced tea. "Guilty as charged, Mr. Blue."

"Jimmy." He ate a bite of the pudding and swallowed while watching Justin with a contemplative stare. "Sorry to hear about Sean's death. Never believed Blaze Maddox and his poisonous vitriol. Exceptional guitar player. Lousy human being."

"Never met the man, so can't venture an opinion."

His companion chuckled. "Don't bother. I've got enough opinion for both of us." His smile dimmed. "Sean talked about you all the time. One night, we got drunk. Said he only regretted two things in his life. The estrangement from his family and the way he treated you while you were together. I got the feeling that you were the one true love of his life. You know, aside from music."

Over Jimmy's shoulder, Sean looked like he wanted to run away. He said he was leaving, but stayed, and now Justin knew why. "Oh really?" One eyebrow went up at the fact that Sean's eyes wouldn't meet his. "He had a not-funny way of showing it."

"Don't believe a word he says, Beeb. I was _drunk_. Probably talking about my guitar." He paused a beat. "And he lies."

Glaring at Sean, Justin wiped his mouth and pushed his plate away. "Sure he wasn't talking about his guitar? He loved that thing so much, he slept with it at night, like a teddy bear."

Sean's eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open. "That's not true and you know it." Making a sound of disgust, he turned away. "I'm done listening to you talk about me behind my back in front of my face. I'm outa here." This time he did leave.

"Should we be talking, Jimmy? Won't it be seen as favoritism if I happen to make it beyond the preliminaries?"

"Don't give a fly flip _what_ they believe. Can't tell people what to think, which is what makes America great. If anyone says anything, don't lie. We talked about your dead ex, and nothing else. Break a leg, Justin." With that parting shot, Jimmy stood, picked up his dishes and walked away.

 **After Hours at the Gym**

Holding a fighting stick in each hand, Bucky swung them experimentally. Something about the action felt familiar, but that wasn't possible. He had no memory of ever having used them before. Steve spun his in a circle, moving through a short routine that reminded him of all the times he'd watched Natasha working out alone in the back yard. It had similarities to martial arts katas.

"Come on, Steve. Let's get this over with, so I can get back to more important things, like taking a nap or watching the grass grow." Using the back of his forearm, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and Steve did the same. Bucky wanted to towel off and put his shirt on following their warm-up at the punching bags, but Steve wasn't having it. He took a moment to adjust the waistband of his shorts. _Sweaty, shirtless, and shoeless. This is gonna be fun_ , he thought to himself with sarcasm.

"When we're done, it'll be almost bedtime, and it's too dark to see the grass growing," Steve shot back. "Nat asked me to go over the basics with you, and that's what we're gonna do."

Bucky resisted an eye roll. "You had to remind me I made a promise, didn't you?"

Steve grinned. "Just keeping you honest, jerk."

"Bite me, punk."

From the sidelines, Natasha called out, "That's _my_ job, James!"

Bucky glanced over and returned her cheeky grin. She held up their discarded shirts waving them in the air like a fan at a sporting event.

~~O~~

To get Bucky's attention, Steve poked him with one of the sticks. "Concentrate. We're gonna start with a few drills." He demonstrated the first technique by holding the sticks over his shoulders, swinging the right then the left hand around in a wide circle. "Right hand, left hand. Right hand, left hand. Cross your arms, uncross your arms. Keep going. A little faster. Good. And don't stay in one place. Move around. Once the fighting begins, never stop moving. Your enemy isn't going to just stand there and let you hit him."

Bucky half-heartedly copied his movements. "How is this supposed to help me with anything?"

"Exercise, Buck. It's another way to spar. Doing the same thing all the time gets boring. It tones the muscles when you change up your workout routine every few weeks. You can stop now." He held up a hand. Steve demonstrated the next drill. "This is a double weave, striking twice with each hand." To his surprise, Bucky seemed to be catching on. "Doin' great, Buck. Keep going, move around. Faster."

Experimentally, Steve moved onto the next drill without giving instructions. To his surprise, and Natasha's too going by the little gasp, Bucky was able to perform the drill perfectly.

He moved through the next few drills without saying a word. Bucky stayed with him, his eyes focused on a point directly in front of him as his breathing settled into a natural rhythm and his face lost all expression.

"Steve…"

Natasha's whisper from the sidelines didn't need elaboration. On the next change-up, Steve faced Bucky, switching from drills to straight up sparring. Within a few short seconds, it became apparent that Bucky was no longer playing. He was deadly serious, reminding him of the day they'd trashed the gym and Natasha had to bail them out. Steve responded in kind, using his skills for defense only, while Bucky gave every indication that he wanted to take Steve's head off and spit down his neck.

To protect Natasha, Steve drew Bucky away from her seat, doing his best to wear him out. Though the last time this happened, Bucky had been relentless until Steve had slammed him against the wall, knocking him unconscious for a few minutes. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but again, he might not have a choice.

Using a modified version of one of Natasha's techniques, Steve let Bucky taste victory by turning tail and running toward the farthest wall. Gauging the distance in his head, he slowed down just enough that Bucky would be in the correct position, tossing the sticks aside.

He jumped, planting first one foot then the other on the wall, flipping himself high in the air, coming down on Bucky's shoulders. Leaning backward, he twisted the same time, sending Bucky flying over to land on a stack of mats, scattering them across the floor. Not what he'd planned, but it worked. _And at least we haven't broken anything_. _Yet_.

Steve glanced at Natasha when Bucky didn't immediately continue the attack. Shrugging his shoulders, he slowly walked in that direction until he could see Bucky's dark hair in the midst of the mats. "Buck, you okay?"

He still didn't move. Steve crouched, reaching out to turn Bucky on his back. Bucky attacked without warning. Gripping Steve around the throat, he drew back and threw him across the gym to land on the floor near the trophy case.

Bucky was on him before he could stand, picking him up and body slamming him face first on the bench that had been knocked away from the wall, shattering the wood like it was a toothpick.

All of Bucky's considerable weight landed on his back. His knee pressed against Steve's spin while he got him in a choke hold, bending him backward until Steve thought his spine would snap. Their images were reflected in the trophy case glass. Instead of the calm relentlessness, Bucky's features expressed pleasure at the pain he was inflicting.

In this position, Steve had little leverage. Moving his hands under his shoulders, he pushed up enough to get his knees under him, loosening Bucky's hold. His victory, however, was short-lived, as the man who'd been his friend for more than ninety years, picked up a huge piece of the bench and broke it with his bare hands. Bucky grabbed the wide end of a long piece that came to a sharp point, holding it over his head and bringing it down toward Steve's bare chest.

 **TBC**


	151. Chapter 151

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Many thanks to Qweb for her contribution to this chapter.

Note: Those RL issues are still plaguing me and my family. Prayers would be nice, if that's your thing. Thanks.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 151**

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Roof**

The night was silent except for the occasional car engine, the light breeze and the splashing of the water that combined to lull Wanda and Aaron to sleep.

Going from sound asleep to fully awake, Wanda sat up, wondering what had disturbed her. As they promised, King and Eva had stayed away to allow Aaron and she to be alone. Sean hadn't been around all day, which meant he'd probably gone with Justin to the studio. For the most part, Dalton was keeping to the basement and not making much of a fuss or was just biding his time. The Winchesters were sleeping, as was Justin. She couldn't sense Castiel at all.

She lay down next to Aaron again, who was on his side facing the other way, the warmth of his pajama-clad body giving her comfort after their night of mild passion, and the aberrant touch that had felt like Xiaoli's mind. The moment her head hit the pillow again, she received an urgent mental message from Natasha. She didn't know what it meant, but she passed it on to Pietro as requested. However, it didn't stop there. The images kept coming, faster than she could comprehend. Something was very wrong. She resent the message to her brother and a moment later, she sensed an easing of her mother's apprehension without it ending completely. The message she got was that they needed help, and she was the only one who could do what had to be done.

Wanda pulled her socks up and went to the other side of the roof so as not to disturb Aaron, using her mental powers and her voice to call for the one person who could help her help Natasha and Bucky. She looked into the sky, keeping her voice low. If he really was an angel, she wouldn't need to yell for him to hear. "Castiel! Please. I need you!"

 **At the Gym**

 **Virginia**

If she weren't pregnant, Natasha's skills could easily stop Bucky from hurting Steve, even if all she did was stun him. She had an idea how to slow him down until help arrived and hoped it would work. Striding across the gym, she called out in Russian, " _Soldat! Stoyat'!_ "

Bucky stopped in mid-swing, giving Steve time to roll out of the way and get to his feet. He looked at her, but she couldn't take her eyes off Bucky as he turned in her direction.

Still in Russian, Natasha ordered, "Disarm immediately, _Soldat!_ "

The piece of wood clattered to the floor and he stood with his arms hanging at his sides, awaiting orders. Steve and Natasha exchanged glances, and she tried to reassure him, as he did her, but when your husband and the father of your child went off the deep end, even the Black Widow might be forgiven for panicking. This, as it turned out, wasn't necessary.

The front door burst open, a breeze blew their clothes and loose pieces of paper around, and then, Bucky was lying on a mat, unconscious.

Pietro was kneeling at his side, worry in his blue eyes. He looked up as she approached. "You got my message."

"It was difficult to ignore, coming as it did." He stood to give her a hug. "What happened?"

"There are some things you don't know about us. We felt it best not to mention them because we thought they were all in the past." Natasha stepped out of her son's arms to kneel next to Bucky, touching him lightly on the cheek. "And he's been paying the price for more than seventy years."

There was a strange pop in the air. "Father!" Wanda rushed to Bucky's side next to Pietro. "What happened? Why did you ask Pietro to knock him out?"

She looked at the twins kneeling side by side, at Steve, who had put his shirt and shoes back on and at Bucky. "Clint and I call it 'cognitive recalibration'."

Wanda nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Hitting really hard in the head is how Clint regained his senses after Loki's attack. You are hoping it will do the same for Father."

"It did last time." Natasha sensed the same question that she had: How did Wanda get here from California so quickly?

Pietro came around to help Natasha up and drew her over to one of the unbroken benches. "This has happened before?"

"Yes. We'll talk about it later. We have to get him home. Steve…"

Steve wasn't paying attention. He was staring at a stranger wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and sandals with white socks standing a few feet away. Wanda noticed at the same time and went to the man's side. "Mother, Pietro, Steve, this is a new friend, Castiel. He was kind enough to bring me here when you called. Castiel, meet my mother, my brother and my father's best friend."

Castiel nodded a greeting. "Very happy to make your acquaintance, though not under these circumstances."

Stepping protectively in front of Natasha, Pietro stood tall, ready to fight the intruder. "Who are you?"

The other man's eyebrows turned down in thought. "I'm an angel. Wanda will explain further. Rest assured that I am here to help, not hinder."

Wanda took Castiel's hand and brought him over to Bucky. "This is my father. Something's wrong with him. Can you…"

With a curious head tilt, Castiel crouched next to Bucky, hand cupped to allow his fingers to touch both temples at once. He closed his eyes for a moment. "There is a darkness within that causes him much shame. However, he is not to blame. Others imposed their will upon him many decades ago. I am able to make the memories fully accessible to him or bury them deep enough that he will never know they existed. I do not, however, have the ability to change his reactions when the skills associated with the memories are provoked." He turned an apologetic expression on the four faces standing around him that morphed into thoughtfulness. Coming to his feet, he looked at Wanda. "Only _you_ can do that."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Roof**

Lying on the makeshift bed they'd made, Aaron watched Wanda look into the sky as if praying, puzzled that she would be calling the name of the man with the black hair from the basement. He knew she hadn't meant to wake him when she came back to bed, and he'd been about to roll over to spoon her when she abruptly got up and went to the other side of the roof.

He heard a near silent pop and Castiel was standing beside her. They spoke so softly he couldn't understand what they were saying. He was already on edge because of the events he'd witnessed during the accident and what he'd surmised about her. At seeing Castiel appear, and moments later, both of them disappearing, Aaron threw off the covers and ran to where they'd been standing. He went to the parapet, but they hadn't gone over the side.

Not knowing what else to do, Aaron ran barefoot down to the twenty-first floor to knock on the door of the room she shared with her nephew. Justin jerked the door open, annoyed with the interruption of his sleep. "Oh. It's you. Whadda you want at WTF in the morning?"

Aaron pushed past him into the room and the door closed behind him. "Wanda's been kidnapped!"

The look on his face said Justin thought he was nuts. "I doubt that."

He went to lie down again, and Aaron grabbed his arm. "I'm _serious_! It was that Castiel guy from the basement."

"Wanda's _fine_. She can take care of herself." Justin waved at the empty bed. "You can sleep there 'till she gets back."

Angry that Justin wasn't taking the dire situation seriously, Aaron powered up his phone and dialed 9-1-1. Before the call connected, Justin snatched the phone from him, deliberately crushing it into small pieces with one hand. Aaron's mouth dropped open as the bits fell to the carpet at his feet. The good news was that he now had Justin's full attention. That was also the bad news.

He backed up as Justin took slow measured steps toward him, his eyes dark and angry. "Can't let you call the cops, pal."

Aaron's back was pressed against the closet door and still Justin came toward him. He closed his eyes and turned away, bracing himself to feel incredible pain.

 **At the Gym**

 **Virginia**

"Me?" Wanda went down on one knee. "How can I help him?" By the time she said the last word, she and Castiel were standing in her parents' room. Bucky was on the bed, still unconscious. She leaned down to check his breathing and pulse.

"My apologies. He was waking up. The darkness has gone back into the place where only his subconscious can touch it, and he would be unaware of his actions while in its grip. The shame would still be present."

"But how…"

Castiel drew her over to the vanity and urged her sit. "Your mother wishes to be the one to tell you of an event that happened recently that relates to the darkness. At that time, the darkness, and those who put it there, had another agenda. Through post-hypnotic suggestion, he had been led to believe that Natasha was being unfaithful. Because of this, it became almost an obsession for him to nullify the one he believed was her lover." Wanda opened her mouth to object, but Castiel held up his hand to forestall her comments. "Deep in his heart, he knows that she would never cheat, and that personal demon has since been laid to rest."

At hearing the term post-hypnotic suggestion, Wanda now knew that the darkness Castiel spoke was could only be the remnants of the Winter Soldier that still lived within her father. She looked past Castiel to where he lay on the bed. No one else could help him. It had to be her. "Then it will be done."

She went to the bed, creating a thin tendril of psionic energy between her hands. Taking a seat next to Bucky, she held her hands over his temples, sending the energy into his brain, following the trail that led to the reason he'd attacked Steve. She'd seen the fight in Steve's mind, as well as his helplessness to do anything for his friend while at the same time protecting Natasha and himself.

The cause of his attack was once again fear, but not that Natasha might leave him. Now his fear was, while she was pregnant and unable to fight her own battles, that he might not be able to protect her should her enemies, or those of the Avengers, come after her and their family. His fear was so great that it tapped into his former alter ego at the threat it perceived from Steve due to the nature of their workout. His subconscious could not tell the difference between sparring, and a true threat.

What Bucky wanted was to be able to tap into his skills as the Winter Soldier without worrying that innocent people would be put at risk. This is why Castiel said that she and no one else could do for her father. "Do not worry, Father. All will be well. I will make it so that you are able to protect your family and friends, should the need arise."

Closing her eyes, Wanda concentrated on that part of his brain where the skills lay, removing all barriers and giving him the ability to employ them with just a thought, without crossing into what he called assassin mode. He would know that the skills were there, and that he had full control of when and where they were used.

When the transfer was complete, Wanda picked up Bucky's hand. She sent Pietro a message through their link to remove the evidence of Bucky's aberration. "It's done, Castiel. He will wake soon and have no memory of tonight except that he spent the evening with Mother and Steve. We must take him back to the gym."

"As you wish."

Castiel touched Wanda and Bucky in the middle of their foreheads, and in an instant, they were back where it all started.

Wanda held Natasha's hand and smiled to let her know that all would be well. The Winter Soldier no longer lurked inside Bucky's mind, waiting for the right moment to emerge into the light where he would kill and maim with impunity. She hugged Natasha, Pietro, and Steve, and returned to Castiel's side, giving them all a smile and a wave before they returned to the roof of the hotel.

The chill air hit her as she looked around. "I don't see Aaron." Concentrating, she found his unique thought patterns in the room she shared with Justin, and he was badly frightened. After giving Castiel a quick hug, which he bore with grace, Wanda gathered up the blankets and pillows and hurried down to the room.

The door opened just as she reached it, Justin smiling tightly as he ushered her in. "Please. Do join us, auntie."

She tossed the pillows and blankets on the bed on her way to Aaron's side, very carefully removing the gag over his mouth. "Why did you tie him up?"

Justin didn't like her tone, and she didn't need psionics to tell her. "I didn't _hurt_ him. He came here all in a panic because you left with Cas. I didn't know why, but figured, if you were with him in the middle of the night, it had to be important, and you'll tell me all about later." Justin gestured at Aaron, still tied up on the sofa. "It was the only way I could keep him from calling the police without knocking him out." A small plastic bag landed next to Aaron. "By the way, he's gonna need a new phone."

Wanda worked the knots around his wrists loose while giving Justin a scathing glare. In response, he yanked the pillow and blanket from his bed and went to the door. "I'm taking the roof. You two need to have long talk. And don't even _think_ this is a request, Wanda. I'm letting you and him have sex whenever you want. If he's going to be around all the time, he should know the truth."

He gave every indication, tone of voice, body language, and unreadable expression, that he wanted to slam the door to make his point, but he didn't, and like when their father had done the same, it made his anger all the more disheartening.

 **On the Roof**

Justin spread the blanket in the most protected corner, tossed the pillow at the head and lay down, pulling the blanket over him like a sleeping bag. He was about to dose off when he felt another presence. Pulling the blanket over his head, he muttered, "Say _one_ … _*******…_ _word_ , Sean, and I will _vanquish_ your ghostly ass with extreme prejudice."

Using breathing techniques he learned from Natasha, Justin calmed his mind enough to sleep again.

~~O~~

Sean stayed invisible until he was certain Justin was asleep. Waving to his companions to join him, he shimmered into the visible spectrum along with Eva and King. After a quick peek at the sleeping man, the trio of ghosts moved over to the other side of the roof where they could talk.

Eva bumped her shoulder against Sean's. "Your former spouse is a bit of a bossy boots, isn't he?"

"He can be. It's in his personality." At their blank stares, he explained, "In the 1950s, a pair of cardiologists did a study and determined that there are two major personality types. A's are outgoing, ambitious, organized, sensitive, impatient, overly concerned with time management. Real workaholics. Now, your type B's have lower stress levels, work hard, but aren't workaholics, enjoy achievement. In competition, they focus less on winning or losing, and stick to enjoying the game. They're great at multi-tasking, and often have careers such as writer, therapist, actress." He waggled his hand. "Justin, the one I met in jogging in the park five or six years ago, was a mixture of the two. Not sure what that type is called."

"How is he different now?" King inquired, seemingly intrigued by Sean's recitation of facts.

Sean rubbed his head and walked aimlessly around the room. "A few years ago, he experienced a horribly traumatic event that forever altered his personality. Justin's still a mixture, but more brooding and prone to feeling sorry for himself than before. On the other hand, he's got a hot girlfriend and they're talking about getting married and having kids."

"I don't understand, Sean." Eva moved over to stand near him, concern in eyes that were a translucent grayish-green, the sky behind her only partially visible. He thought it a really cool effect. "How is that possible, if the two of you were married?"

"Just the way it is these days. People are more tolerant of what some call alternate lifestyles. A person, male or female, who is attracted to both genders is considered bisexual. While alive, I identified as gay, though I still had the occasional heterosexual dalliance." He wanted to mention Mia but considered it a family secret. He lifted his chin proudly. "Might even have a kid or two out there."

Eva went to sit next to King, and Sean could see her thoughts spinning. "I see."

He leaned against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. "Anyway, that's why I'm here, I think. Forcing him to stay with the show will bring him closer to who he once was. All part of the plan to get me on the fast track to heaven instead of limbo, purgatory, or even hell." The couple looked at him with puzzled expressions reminding him that they hadn't gotten that far in the afterlife. "Apparently, I was too good for hell, and not good enough for heaven. Success, or even a really good try, will sway the votes in my favor."

His companions shared worried glances, King speaking for them. "That does present quite a dilemma for us then. Should we also be engaged in tasks that will improve our standing? The smell of sulfur makes me quite ill."

Eva hid behind King and Sean at Castiel's sudden appearance, peeking over their shoulders. "Forgive me for eavesdropping. I wish to correct misconceptions for the two of you. Kingston, you are still here because of Evangeline. _She_ is your unfinished business."

King looked at Eva with an affectionate smile. "You are so right, my boy. There is nothing I want more than for my lovely lady to be happy and at peace for eternity."

"Unfortunately, that won't happen, Evangeline," he looked her in the eye, "until you accept the true cause of your death."

Sean had enough of being ignored. "Wait. Are you saying she _didn't_ die of alcohol poisoning?"

Castiel's eyes turned sad. "She did not. Until she remembers how she died and comes to accept it, she will not move on. And Kingston will not move on until she does. Hence, they are still earthbound."

"So, all we have to do is solve a seventy-seven-year-old murder that was originally classified as an accident and we," Sean indicated the four of them, "three ghosts and an angel, are the only ones who know it was a murder."

"That is, essentially, correct, Sean, though your task isn't connected to theirs."

"Hell it _isn't_!" Holding in a grin at the looks on the others' faces, Sean lifted his chin and moved to stand with Eva and King. "They're my friends. One for all, and all for one. Like the Musketeers."

King and Eva stood tall and proud, saying together, "Right!" Eva continued alone. "We all go to heaven or we all stay. Unlike every Hollywood contract I've ever signed, there'll be no negotiating."

~~O~~

" _Fine_. Count me and Wanda in too." The spirits and the angel looked over at Justin, rubbing his eyes and scratching his stomach. "If he's still around after they have their little talk, Aaron's in too, whether he wants to or not." No one said a thing as he looked from one face to another. "What? How am I supposed to sleep with you lot running your mouths all damn night?"

In an instant, all four had disappeared. Grinning to himself, Justin went back to his bedroll, pulled the covers up to his neck and closed his eyes. "And stay away from my room. Wanda's in there with her boyfriend."

 **Room 2104**

The last of the restraints were removed from Aaron's wrists and ankles. He rubbed them to restore circulation though Justin hadn't tied them too tight. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Wanda sat on the foot of the bed, hands gripping the edges. She'd been ordered to talk to him by her nephew but hadn't said a word since he left. _Guess it's up to me to start us off_. "You know, just for a teensy moment," he pinched a few molecules of air, "I thought he was gonna kill me."

"He would not." She finally looked at him. "Social protocol states that when a friend is upset, you offer them a hot beverage."

Slightly put off by the change of subject, Aaron said, "Hot cocoa would be nice…"

~~O~~

Wanda put her hand out and the land line floated through the air to land in her palm. She called Room Service to have a carafe of hot chocolate brought up, using psionics to return the phone to the table. Aaron's mouth had dropped open, his eyes wide and unblinking. Forging ahead, she held out her right hand, palm up, creating a small sphere of swirling red mist. "You saw me use my powers during the accident." She tilted her head to the side. "You are thinking I am a mutant. That is only partially true. My brother and I were found to possess latent mutant genes that emerged with puberty, which were then enhanced genetically by a scientist before we came to America."

Aaron got up and walked to the window without a word. Wanda moved over to stand behind him, their faces reflected in the glass, hers just above his shoulder. After a few tense moments, he whispered, "Can I get vodka instead of hot chocolate?"

"Vodka?"

"Yeah. Memory impairment is the free prize at the bottom of each bottle."

Dispirited, Wanda moved to the middle of the room with her back to him. "You do not wish to remember me or our time together?" She felt him behind her, not with her mind, but through the warmth of his body standing at her back. His hands on her shoulders gently urged her to turn around. He opened his mouth to speak, and she stopped him with a finger to his lips. "I only used my powers on you once: to save your life. I can read thoughts and emotions, and even influence another. However, I have done none of that with you. Until you asked to share my table that day, I had not even thought to ask your name, and the reason was not because I didn't find you appealing. It was the unresolved disagreement with Xiaoli."

"That's good to know." He smiled. "What am I thinking now?"

Taking his question as permission to read his mind, Wanda peeked inside long enough to see his immediate thoughts. But before she could voice what she'd seen, Aaron pulled her tightly against him and kissed her. She'd seen his intent, as well as his acceptance of her powers. It was a certainty that he'd spend their time apart giving the idea of dating a woman like her long and careful consideration. And if, at a later time, he found that continuing their relationship was out of the question, she would just have to accept it and move on, as she had with Xiaoli. Then again, she would be going back to Virginia in a few weeks, and Aaron had university to attend. A long-distance romance was unlikely to work out for them.

They reluctantly separated at the knock on the door. Aaron went to the sofa while Wanda let the room service person in. She had him set the tray on the table, signed the check, closed the door and leaned against it. Aaron watched her while at the same time preparing them each a drink.

Letting her hips sway enticingly, Wanda crossed the room and sat next to Aaron. He handed her a cup and together they took a long sip. They leaned toward each other, and he stopped before their lips could touch. "What about that guy? The one who made you disappear?"

"Castiel? He's an angel." To stop him from asking more questions or moving away, she put her cup on the tray, and took his face between her palms, bringing him to within an inch of their lips touching. "No more talking."

Aaron slipped an arm under her knees and the other behind her back to carry her to the bed, not letting their lips lose contact until they were lying together. Wanda separated their mouths only long enough to say, "In the morning, remind me to tell you about the ghosts."

He nibbled on her neck while slipping his hand under the edge of her pajama top… and stopped. " _Ghosts_?"

 **The Gym**

 **Virginia**

Blinking in the bright lights of the gym, Bucky looked around, momentarily confused at his surroundings.

"C'mon, Buck. I didn't hit you that hard," Steve told him with mild smirk. "Ready to go again?"

He looked down at the sticks, one in each hand. Now he remembered. Natasha had asked Steve to teach him stick fighting. Grinning, Bucky swung the sticks in an arc, left, right, left, right, together. "Only if you're ready to get your ass handed to you, Stevie." Bucky and Steve brought both sticks to chamber. He looked over at his wife. "On your count, Tasha."

Natasha smiled with relief, confusing him again. Shaking his head, Bucky gave all his attention to his opponent.

"On three, boys. One… Two… Three!"

 **California Brew Coffee Shop**

 **The Next Morning**

Wanda carefully placed the tote bag in an empty chair, got her laptop out and turned it on. The object inside the bag was old and delicate, but it was the only way for Eva and King to leave the hotel. While waiting for the computer to boot up, she bought herself a drink and came back to the table. King and Eva were watching the monitor curiously, whispering back and forth. She slid into her chair, opened a browser and typed in the name Giles Ludlow. The first record was a site that read as a biography of the famous director.

Her companions read over her shoulder. Eva chuckled and pointed. "Says his birth date was June 5, 1892, but that's wrong. He was born in 1896. Giles thought if he was older, he would stand a better chance of directing the movies he'd dreamt of all his life."

"I'd say it worked, Eva, darling." King pointed out the lengthy list of credits attributed to him until his death in 1961. "I remember seeing _Illusion of Truth_ just before I died. I was on the edge of my seat from beginning to end."

Pointing to the screen, Wanda showed them the notation where Giles had won an Oscar for _Illusion of Truth_.

Eva huffed and pointed to another notation. "He was also nominated for an award for _Annoying Delilah_." She sat back and pouted. "It was supposed to be our first romantic comedy together, Giles and me, and the first time my name would be _above_ the title."

King reached across to give her hand a squeeze. "If you had been the star, darling, this Giles fellow would've won the award."

"Oh, King, darling. That's one of the reasons I love you," Eva told him, both totally ignoring Wanda. "You always tell me exactly what I want to hear."

"I tell you want you want to hear because I'm being truthful. I saw your talent long before you were a household name."

Wanda let out a long sigh. "Could we get back to our research, please?" Both spirits gave their full attention to the screen. "Eva, do you remember who was at the party?"

She touched a finger to her chin. "Not everyone, of course-there were hundreds. Just the elite of Hollywood stardom, many of which worked behind the scenes, a few investors, several producers and their spouses." Her face brightened. "That's also the night I reconnected with an old friend, Frannie Mullins. I hadn't seen her since I was maid of honor at her wedding. At that time, I was still going by my birth name, which I will _not_ reveal. Many thought she'd married beneath her, but Victor turned out to be a wonderful husband and a doting father to their children."

An odd feeling touched Wanda's mind. Something about Eva's recitation of facts was off. Most was truth, but a small part was either false or a stretch of the truth. She couldn't tell what without delving deeper.

Aaron came from behind the counter carrying a tray of drinks. He set one on the table near her right hand, winked, and moved on after receiving a smile in return. "No, I haven't informed him of your request, Eva. He's only just learned of my powers and that there are ghosts in the hotel. We've yet to go into specifics."

Leaving that alone for the moment, Eva read the screen while Wanda scrolled. "Justin left early this morning."

"The show is recording promotional videos today. They should be seen online and on television within a day or so. Promoting a program or movie is much the same as it was in your day, with the addition of online 'trailers' and such. They are broadcast around the world and in many languages. 'Streaming' also allows them to watch even while they are traveling or commuting to work."

"Amazing," King noted. "Just think how famous you might have been with such resources at your disposal."

"We can talk about that later. Let's just continue our research." Wanda opened a document and typed the names Evangeline Selfridge Giles Ludlow, Victor and Frances Light. "It will likely take some time to locate any information about descendants we may be able to speak to regarding their lives after you died. Begin with the names of those you remember being at the party that night, and anything you know about them."

 **The Next American Star Studio**

In the middle of rehearsing his part of the airport flashmob, Justin's danger sense tingled, and not in a good way. Using caution, he opened the door to look out, but didn't see anyone who didn't belong. Other contestants, staff, mentors, and a few service personnel, just like every other day. Why then had his senses gone on alert? Even with his new and improved Winter Soldier senses, he couldn't locate the source.

Justin went back into the room and put everything else out of his mind. Well, most everything. After what Wanda told him about Bucky, and that the Winter Soldier part of him had been dealt with, he still worried about his family. Here in California, he was so far away, unable to protect them. Sure, he trusted Steve and Bucky to do the job, but he felt he should be there instead of thousands of miles away, dancing and singing for the cameras.

Checking the clock, he saw that it was nearly time for their last group rehearsal before heading out to the airport to record the first of several flashmob type promotions for the show. Though he preferred to stay in the background, Monroe insisted that each contestant get their moment to shine. If Sean weren't around to keep him honest, as he put it, Justin would've headed for home long ago, his obligation fulfilled. He also wanted to see his new nephews in person. FaceTime just wasn't the same, now that they were home with Serenity and Collin.

He gathered his belongings and joined the others headed for the main stage. A trio of maintenance workers passed them going the other way, and something about one of them caught his eye. But the man's face and long black hair didn't ring any bells. To Jose, he said, "What's his name? He looks like someone I used to know."

True to form, Jose scoffed. "He's a service person. I neither know nor _care_ what his name is as long as everything works."

Up ahead, Sean's ghostly form shimmered into sight. Justin flashed him a warning glance and kept walking. As their team reached the top of the stairs, Jose cried out as he fell down to the bottom. Both men had a mutual dislike of the other, but that didn't keep Justin from going to his side. "Stay still, Jose. Are you hurt?"

The fake Venezuelan indicated his left foot. "I've twisted my ankle."

Justin pushed the hem of his pants up and sure enough, the ankle was swollen to twice its normal size. "You should have it x-rayed." He waved Monroe over. "You have someone who can take Jose to the ER?"

"Of course." She signaled for Patrick, who acted as if he'd been asked to perform brain surgery with a straight razor, a cordless drill and a melon baller. "Patrick, take Jose to the hospital to get checked out."

The production assistant reluctantly took off his headset, tucking it and his other equipment out of the way to help Jose stand. Because he could only use one foot, it would take forever to get him out of the way. Justin picked Jose up in his arms. "Lead the way, Patrick." To Monroe he said, "I'll be right back."

 **TBC**

 _Soldat!_ _Stoyat'!_ \- Soldier! Stand down!


	152. Chapter 152

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds, and to Qweb and karina001 for their contributions.

 **Note:** The RL issues plaguing my family and I are finally headed toward a resolution. Prayers would be nice, if that's your thing. Thanks.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 152**

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **On the Beach**

Lying on a blanket under a cabana as protection from the sun, Wanda and Aaron were cuddled together, taking time to just enjoy being in each other's presence, feeling the breeze and people watching. They had been like this for over an hour, occasionally adjusting positions when Aaron's still sore muscles complained.

When they parted that morning, he sensed she had something on her mind, and though he'd waited for her to bring it up, she hadn't mentioned the subject as yet.

During this quiet time, he'd gone over their interactions before and after becoming intimate, looking for some clue that he might've missed regarding her confession the night before, coming up empty. She behaved like a typical young woman her age, once you made allowance for her upbringing in another country. Even then, she appeared 'normal'.

Wanda shifted around, rolling onto her back, one hand searching for and latching onto his. He gave her a squeeze and turned onto his hip, so he could see her face. "What's on your mind, Wanda?"

Her slow smile made his stomach flip over. "We've known each other such a short time. Yet you know me better than some members of my own family."

Aaron cared about her very much, but if it was love, or just short-term lust, was up in the air. He grinned, overplaying the leer. "That's cuz I've seen you naked." She laughed, and he did too, turning it into a sweet kiss, without letting it get out of hand. "Seriously, tell me what you're thinking."

Rising up on one elbow, Wanda brushed away a bit of sand that stuck to his cheek. "Without empirical evidence, you seem to have accepted my word that there are ghosts at the hotel."

He flopped onto his back, and Wanda rolled onto one hip, placing a hand on the other side to hold herself up. "After seeing you use your powers, I'll believe almost anything. Why is it important?"

"Because they have a special request that requires your agreement. For such an event, you would need to know and accept the existence of spirits, and that I can communicate with them." She held up one hand, the red mist that represented her power swirling around and through her fingers. "With this, I can also give you the ability to see and speak to them."

Aaron thought it over, and nodded agreement. "That'd be cool. Would I only see the ones at the hotel, or would I keep running into ghosts everywhere I go?"

"Uncertain. If you allow it, I can give you the ability now, and remove it after we have fulfilled Eva and King's requests. Assuming you agree."

More thinking. "Hmm… Before I agree to anything, I'd have to meet them _and_ know what they want us to do for them. All you've told me so far is their first names." The atmosphere had gotten way too serious. Aaron quickly rolled Wanda onto her back, his hands snaking under the edge of her top to tickle her. She squealed, curling into a ball to stop him. "Give it up! Tell me!"

"Ah! Okay! Okay!" The hilarity eased off and Aaron sat up, inviting her to do the same. Wanda took a few deep breaths before speaking. "They want to spend time together as living persons. To be able experience being alive one more time before they move on."

Confused, Aaron leaned back a little, making some distance between them. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying that Eva and King are requesting to possess us for one day, so they can be together in every way possible."

"Um, does that include…"

Wanda nodded. "They want us to help them make love."

 **The Next American Star Studio**

Keeping his face averted, the man now going by the name of Emilio Gonzalez passed the former Winter Soldier in the hall, careful to show no more interest in him than any of the others. As he'd been programmed to do, Emilio would watch and wait for the perfect moment to capture Justin Lockwood and return him to the base in Sokovia where he would live out the remainder of his life providing blood for testing and another "volunteer" for von Strucker and List.

Something about those names tickled a place deep in his brain then it was gone. As it was not part of his programming, he gave it no more thought. He knew this mission would be a success because failure was not an option. That too had been a part of his programming and he was more than ready to fulfill it. The time had to be right. For now, he would follow orders to watch and wait.

 **Secret HYDRA Base**

 **Mojave National Preserve**

 **California**

Using a finger to surreptitiously hit mute, List watched von Strucker pace and wave his arms, angry that he'd taken the initiative to send 497 on his first mission. What he hadn't been given a chance to say was that the Asset had a tracker inserted under the skin of his forearm and another device had been implanted in his right eye. 497 no longer needed the glasses he'd worn before "volunteering" for their experiments, giving them the opportunity to try out a new technology they'd been working on.

List had kept from his partner the fact that he'd recently completed "live" testing, which had exceeded all expectations. Naturally, the patient had died, but that was a minor consideration. If von Strucker would shut up for a moment, List could tell him that the prototype was in production and could be implanted in his own eye whenever he was ready. Then he wouldn't have to use the monocle for his right eye that had sustained injury during the failed coup.

Sighing, List planted an elbow on the desk, dropped his chin into the palm and waited out von Strucker's rant.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Secret Medical Unit**

Eyelids fluttered open and closed again, the bright lights causing her head to hurt and eyes to water. She lifted her right arm, surprised to find it weak and flaccid feeling, like the last time she had the flu and could barely get herself to the bathroom alone.

The left hand had a small device clipped to it. Blinking to clear her vision of tears, she held the device where she could see that it displayed oxygen levels. Turning her head, she finally became aware of sounds she recognized from after Killian had died when Tony promised he'd cure her of Extremis.

Frantic, she examined the skin of her arms, running her right hand over the skin of her left. The texture felt dry, but normal. Not overly hot, as if she were about to have a heat stroke.

She tried to sit up, falling back to the bed with a hand to her head and squeezing her eyes shut to combat dizziness. "T-Tony?"

Even to her own ears her voice sounded scratchy and disused. She ran her tongue over dry lips, cleared her throat and tried again. "Is someone d'ere?"

Suddenly, she was surrounded by indistinct shapes that could only be doctors and nurses, speaking words she could barely understand. One appeared to be speaking to someone she couldn't see.

She stopped fighting the hands holding her down and concentrated on listening.

"…immediately, Mr. Stark… No, it _can't_ wait…" The male voice huffed, the usual reaction to one of Tony's semi-unreasonable demands and resorted to begging. "Please, Mr. Stark… No, you don't understand! She's _awake_."

The man who'd spoken to Tony leaned over the bed, smiling and holding her hand. "Welcome back, Ms. Potts. How do you feel?"

Thinking it over, she attempted to return his smile. She must've succeeded because his smiled widened and included relief. "Like I been 'sleep f' years. Where 'm I?"

"In a hospital. I…"

There was a commotion where she couldn't see it, and suddenly Tony was holding her hand and touching her hair, his brown eyes wide. "You're back."

Stiff fingers curled around his palm and his smile widened. She loved that smile and squeezed again, harder. "Thass nice. Where've I been?" A familiar voice came from the right. She turned her head and saw Bruce. He looked as stunned as Tony. "Bruuuuce… Whass goin' on?"

"We have a lot to tell you. Tony'll do that while I have Jarvis run a few tests, if you don't mind."

"Course not. 'S long as I get outta here s-s-soon." Bruce's face disappeared as did the others, leaving her alone with Tony.

He leaned down for a quick kiss. "You'll be sprung as soon as Bruce and the doctors give the word, honey." She felt his fingers brushing through her hair again. "I've missed you so much, Pepper."

As much as Pepper wanted to know what was going on, why she was in the hospital, sleep wouldn't let her ask the question. She smiled at the feel of Tony's hand holding hers and the warmth of his lips on her forehead and closed her eyes.

~~O~~

Leaning against the side of the limo, Happy patiently waited for Pepper to leave a dinner meeting. As head of security, he could've delegated the duty to another, but he didn't trust anyone else not to cop to Tony's secret and blab to the world that the CEO of Stark Industries was a Life-Model Decoy. The stress of keeping it to himself was wearing. If he didn't tell someone soon, he might just explode.

His phone rang with Tony's distinctive ringtone, and Happy rushed to answer it. "Hey, boss."

" _Please tell you're alone, that Pepper's not with you_."

"Um, no, she isn't. What's up?"

There was a long sigh that, and this was weird, ended on a chuckle. " _Come to the lab after you drop her off. Not a word to anyone_."

Puzzled, and at the same time hopeful, going by Tony's voice, Happy agreed. "Sure thing, boss." He saw a familiar head of hair coming toward the exit. "Gotta go. She's here." He put the phone away and was already standing with the door open when Pepper left the restaurant. Taking her hand, Happy was surprised when she nodded at the front seat. He led her around to the front passenger door and helped her in, waiting while she buckled her seatbelt. "How did it go?"

Pepper tilted her head in the way that the LMD had that was different than the original. "We'll find out next week. I'm tired, Happy. Straight home, please."

"Yes, ma'am." Taking care to keep to the speed limit, Happy drove through the streets of Manhattan, headed for Long Island City.

Once Pepper had been dropped off and he confirmed she wouldn't need him for the rest of the night, Happy made speedy tracks for Stark Tower. Normally, he wouldn't let anyone else park the limo, but he was in a hurry as he tossed the keys to the valet and ran for the lift, tapping his heel impatiently as it carried him to the medical floor.

The doors opened, and Tony was waiting for him. Without a word, Happy followed him down the hall to a different room. Through the window, he saw Pepper with the head of the bed raised, being put through what he assumed were physical and mental tests. Happy took a deep breath and let it out. "Thank God."

Pepper saw him and smiled. Relieved to see her awake at last, he waved.

 **The Following Week**

"Sure you're up to this, Nat?"

Busying herself with strapping into the bench seat on the port side of the quinjet, Natasha grumped, "For the last time, Steve, I'm _fine_. Just pilot this thing and leave me alone." Steve didn't immediately leave. "James wouldn't let me go without approval from Bruce."

Bucky's heavy tread thumped on the ramp. "Are you bothering my wife again, punk?"

Uncrossing his arms, Steve shot a glare at Bucky and headed for the cockpit, muttering under his breath, "Jerk."

Shaking her head and smiling, Natasha reached for Bucky's hand, drawing him over to sit next to her. "We'll go see Bruce while we're there, just to put your mind at ease."

He buckled in and held her hand to his chest. "My mind _is_ at ease. The rest of me, not so much. This baby is growing faster than normal. My fault, I know. But the thing is, that didn't happen with Connie. All of hers were normal pregnancies. Short labor, then slap the baby on the butt to make it cry while dear ol' dad cooled his heels in the waiting room."

"They don't slap the babies anymore, husband. And you're going to be there with me when it happens." She let a smirk enter her overly innocent tone, raising her voice to be heard over the quinjet's engines. "You can come in too, Steve. It'll be practice for when little Steve or Stephanie is born."

As expected, Steve didn't respond. However, Bucky did. "Steve's too squeamish to watch you _or_ Mia giving birth. Just let him sit in the waiting room with the rest of the family, even though it's _his_ _child_ being born," he deadpanned.

From the cockpit, Steve called out, " _Flight time is less than twenty minutes. Stay strapped in_."

~~O~~

The lift doors opened, and Bruce was there to meet Natasha, Bucky and Steve. He gestured them to go ahead and brought up the rear, stopping at an observation window. Inside the room, a physical therapist was working on strengthening Pepper's legs. The woman stopped and helped Pepper cover up before making notes and leaving her alone.

Bruce went to talk with the therapist, nodding at what she was telling him. He motioned, and the trio followed him into the room. "Pepper? You have guests."

She brushed the hair from her face. "Send them in, please, Bruce."

At Natasha's urging, Steve went first. He leaned down to place a small kiss on her cheek. "Good to see you're feeling better, Pepper."

"Thank you. It's astonishing that I could've been in a coma all this time and not remember anything after Tony took me to the lab." She looked around. "Is someone with you?"

"Yeah. Nat and Bucky."

Bucky kept hold of Natasha's hand, making sure that she was the last to be seen by Pepper. He too gave her a peck on the cheek and moved out of the way, so Natasha could take his place.

At first, Pepper smiled a greeting. Then, when she saw Natasha's enormous belly, her mouth dropped open. "Nat! What… I mean… How did…"

All three laughed and Natasha rubbed the bump. "The usual way, of course. To say it was a shock when Bruce told me I was pregnant would be an epic understatement." She reached for Pepper's hand and placed it on her stomach. "Say hello to our daughter, Abigail Esme Romanoff-Barnes."

Esme kicked, and Pepper snatched her hand back. "Um, oh, wow. That's amazing. How long till…"

"Six weeks to eight weeks." Steve brought Natasha a chair, and she sank gratefully into it. "Already feels like I've been pregnant forever." Quietly, the men left them alone. Natasha held Pepper's hand. "How're feeling, Pep? Really?"

"I-I don't know _how_ I feel. Physically, I'm weak. Can't stand without support yet, but the therapist is working with me every day. Says maybe next week we'll try a short stroll down the hallway. Tony comes by several times a day to push me around in the wheelchair." Pepper's eyes were sad and at the same time hopeful. "He says something went wrong during the process to eliminate the Extremis from my system and that it was his fault."

Pepper reached for a cup of water on the rolling table and Natasha got up to help her. "It was _Killian's_ fault, and Tony knows it. He was a madman. After you went into the coma, Tony and Bruce locked themselves in the lab for over a week, trying to figure out what went wrong. My opinion is that your body and brain were so traumatized by everything that happened, it need a rest and just shut down."

Natasha left out the part regarding the LMD and that the world was ignorant of the fact that SI's CEO wasn't human.

One side of her mouth turned up. "That's not like me at all or I wouldn't have lasted a week as his assistant."

"Well, he needs you just as much as you need him. Don't try to handle everything yourself, Pep. Talk to someone, a professional. Don't be afraid."

Natasha's friend reached for a tissue. "Me? Afraid?"

"Fear has two meanings: Forget everything and run, or face everything and rise." Natasha put the rail down and sat on the side of the bed to hug Pepper. "I know you'll do the right thing." They eased apart. "Wanna get out of here for a while?" Before Pepper could respond, Natasha went to the door. "Guys! Come help Pep into the chair. We're going for a walk."

~~O~~

Out on the patio, Natasha, Bucky, Steve, and Pepper sat talking, and she let the men monopolized Pepper for a while. When they finally slowed down, she took out her phone. "Want to see more surprises?" She accessed the photos, scrolled to the ones she wanted and held it, so they could both see it. "These are our cats. Rufus, Penelope, Priscilla, Archie, and Ryder. He's bonded with James. And that little guy is our grandson's kitten, Dexter."

Pepper took the phone. "Oh, they're all adorable."

Natasha reached over to scroll to the next photo. "And these are our children, Pietro and Wanda." At Pepper's gasp, she explained. "We adopted them almost a year ago."

"Wow. You've been busy. Can't wait to meet them, Nat." She yawned, and as if he'd been watching, Bruce was suddenly in their midst.

"It's time for our patient to get back to bed." To Natasha, Bruce said, "And you're scheduled for a follow-up in my lab."

Pepper's smile turned into a frown. "Can we at least have lunch together?"

Bruce unlocked the wheels and turned toward the door. "If you take your nap like a good girl, I might even be persuaded to let you try solid food today."

His voice faded away as they turned the corner. Natasha took Bucky's hand. "Come on. We'll wait in his lab."

 **A Few Minutes Later**

 **Bruce's Lab**

"Sorry to do this to you, Nat, but I need you to get undressed and put on a gown."

Bucky complained before Natasha could say a word. "Why does she have to get undressed? I thought the computer did a scan. And aren't you supposed to have a nurse when a patient gets naked?"

For a moment, Bruce clamped his lips together. To Natasha, it looked like he was trying not to laugh, and she almost did as a result. "It's okay, husband. That's why you're here. Monitor the exam from that chair over there."

Not happy, Bucky went to sit in the chair with his arms crossed, while Natasha went to change into a gown. In a mock stern voice, he told Bruce, "I'm watching you, pal. No peeking at anything you're not supposed to see."

Bruce stood tall, haughtily remarking with humor, "I only peek when it's in the line of duty."

 **Rey's Condo**

 **Three Days Later**

"How much longer?" Rey called to her cousin Rio making dinner in her kitchen.

" _Few minutes. Pour the wine, will you?_ "

Rey finished setting the table and did as he asked. She placed the last fork, picked up the corkscrew, and opened the wine to let it breathe a little before pouring. Just as she set the glasses out, her phone rang. Caller ID said, "Private". Normally, she would just let it go to voice mail. However, she was hoping it would be Justin. "Hello?"

" _Good evening, Rey._ " The female voice was slightly familiar. " _This is Natasha Barnes, Justin's grandmother._ "

"Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?" In her mind, Rey saw Natasha waddling across the living room to the bathroom, and it made her sad again.

Background noise cut out when a door closed. " _The family is having a little get together to watch Justin's first show, and we'd like for you to join us, if you don't have other plans_."

She didn't want to lie but couldn't think of a good one. "My cousin's back from deployment and we have something planned for that night. I was going to record and watch it later."

" _Cousin? What unit was he with?_ "

Rey didn't know what that had to do with anything. "Rio! What unit were you with?"

" _107_ _th_ _! Why?_ "

"Later!" Into the phone, she said, "The 107th."

Natasha chuckled, ending on a small grunt. Rey guessed that the baby had kicked. " _By all means, bring him along. My husband and his best friend were in the 107_ _th_ _. They'd love to meet someone from their old unit_."

"It's kind of you, but I'm not family."

" _You're in love with my grandson, and he's in love with you. That makes you family_."

Thinking for a long moment, Rey let her breath out in a long exhale. "Thank you for the offer, Natasha, but I'm not feeling up to socializing with a big crowd right now."

" _If you change your mind, the party starts at seven with food and drinks, as all good parties do_."

Rio came from the kitchen carrying two steaming plates. "Who was that?"

Rey's appetite was gone, but she try to eat for her cousin's sake. "A friend." She filled their glasses with dark red wine and smiled. "Smells great."

 **The Day of the Show**

For days, Rey had been feeling like the worst kind of person for turning down Natasha's kind offer. Since then, her mood about going seemed to change from moment to moment. _Hormones, I guess_.

Finally, she had enough of the pity party because of her loss and the woman at the studio with the big mouth. She picked up the phone and dialed. "Get dressed, cousin. We're going to a party… Casual, jeans, shorts, t-shirts. I'll pick you up in thirty."

An hour later, Rey and Rio rolled up to the Barnes home and parked across the street. With Rio a half-step behind, she walked up to the door with confidence and a smile. She knocked, and the door was opened by Justin's grandfather.

A big smile lit up his face. "Rey! Good to see you again. Tasha said you weren't coming."

"Changed my mind. Is the invitation to join you still open?"

"Of course! Come in."

Rey turned to introduce her cousin, her eyebrows inching up her forehead when he went into what she called his soldier routine.

He snapped to attention. "General Barnes, sir!" Movement behind Bucky widened Rio's eyes even more as Justin's brother-in-law came into sight, drawn by the commotion. "C-Captain Rogers, sir." Rio saluted, looking from one to the other, obviously confused.

Bucky held in a smile, raised his hand in a sloppy version of a salute. "As ease, Sergeant. It's a party, not an inspection."

Rio relaxed, shaking both men's hands while Rey made introductions. "This is my cousin Rafael Ortega. Rio, apparently you already know General Barnes and Captain Rogers. They're Justin's grandfather and brother-in-law, respectively."

Still stunned, Rio didn't ask questions when Bucky stood back to let them in and closed the door. "We're glad you could join us."

Steve smiled at Rio's confused expression. "We're not on active duty, Rio. I'm Steve, and he's Bucky or James."

"Yes, sir. I mean Steve. Thanks for the invite."

Bucky waved. "Food and drinks are in the dining room. Hot coffee and ice in the kitchen. Help yourself then come out to the patio where we've set up the plasma screen to watch Justin's show."

As soon as the two men were out of sight, Rio turned to Rey. "Your _boyfriend_ is related to not one but two of the original Howling Commandoes? Why didn't you _say_ something?"

"You wouldn't have believed, for one." She snickered and led the way to the food. "And two, to see that look on your face."

"Wow. This is so cool! I'm almost related to Bucky Barnes and Captain America!"

 **The Next American Star Studio**

The twelve remaining contestants milled around, some going over the steps to the opening number, others pacing, and a few were out in the alley smoking.

In his head, Justin still heard Morgan swearing up a storm at being the first elimination in front of the elimination audiences. Almost as if he blamed him or even Jose. The main reason given by the voters for kicking him out was his attitude. Justin and Kimberly had tried to tell Morgan to dial back the arrogance. That, whatever his thoughts on the subject, it wouldn't fly for the judges. Didn't do any good. Of course, it didn't help that Justin had been put in charge of their group following Jose's tumble down the stairs.

Amara came out of the ladies room, walking as if she expected to face-plant at any moment, both hands out to the sides, holding onto the walls. She sank into a chair and held her feet out with a sigh, the look on her face one of mild distress as she examined the four-inch heels the costumer insisted she wear to make her look taller.

For their opening number, the women were in sparkly black on the corset-like bodice, with a frilly tulle underskirt in either magenta or cyan. The bright purplish-red color made Amara's cheeks stand out, as if they were naturally highlighted. Her blonde hair had been streaked with the same color in a lighter shade.

The men wore black pants and a white shirt with darker versions of the same colors either in a bow or narrow tie. Some wore sparkly black vests and driving caps, accompanied by black ballroom shoes. Justin's suspenders and narrow tie we're dark magenta because Gus looked ridiculous in the color, so he offered to trade him for the vest and bow tie. He also didn't think it fair to force the women to wear heels, but then he had no say in the matter.

Peeking around to make sure they were alone, Justin casually made his way over and dropped into the chair next to the little chick he'd taken under his wing. "Got you something." He passed her a bag.

Curious, she opened it, her eyes going wide with excitement as she pulled out a pair of shoes that resembled the ones she was already wearing, but with shorter heels than the other women had on. Only the costume gremlin would know the difference, and he wouldn't see, as long as they avoided him until the show started. "They're perfect."

She rushed to take off the others, and Justin helped her put them on. Across the room, Sean leaned against a wall, grinning, uncaring that people walked through him.

Justin ignored the ghostly spirit of his dead husband and stood when Amara did. Taking her hand, he spun her under his arm twice. Unlike their dress rehearsal, she didn't stumble, not once. "Yes, they are. And you will be too. Don't forget to smile, sing like you mean every word, dance like no one is watching. Don't ever hide your light under a basket."

"But what if I'm not as good as I think I am?"

"Listen to me, Amara." Justin waited until he was certain he had her full attention. "The quickest way to gain self-confidence is to do exactly what you're afraid to do." He paused to let her think over what he said then added, "And if that doesn't work, picture everyone naked."

His words had the intended effect. Amara laughed and threw her arms around him for a quick hug. One of the stagehands came around to pass out headsets. She spoke while putting it on. "It's too bad Morgan got eliminated so soon. He was what my mom calls a PITA. A pain in the ass. But he did have talent."

With the microphone flipped up away from his mouth, Justin poked her in the shoulder. "The audience didn't agree with you. There's a fine line between self-confidence and arrogance, and Morgan didn't just cross that line. He erased it. If he can tone it down a bit, his dream might come true."

Bronx made a sudden appearance in the chair on the other side of Amara. The outline of the tattoo on his right bicep could be seen through the white shirt, and with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the semi-colon inside an infinity symbol on his left inner wrist could be seen. "Heard you talking about Morgan. I've met a lot o' pricks in my time, but that Morgan was a fu-u-reakin' cactus."

Amara laughed behind her hand at Bronx's quick change from saying a four-letter word to one more socially acceptable. Justin rolled his eyes as they all stood up. "You're almost too nice for this business, Bronx."

The other man shrugged. "'Tis what it 'tis, knowhatImean? If I win, I win. If I don't," he raised his hands and let them slap against his thighs. " _Que sera, sera_."

"Surely you don't ascribe to the philosophy that it was an honor just to be asked," Justin said with mock outrage.

"Of course not." He adjusted his bow tie without looking at either of them and attempted to smooth his wildly curly dark brown hair back on the sides, failing miserably. "And don't call me Shirley."

Again, Amara laughed, and Justin saw how good it was for her. She was way more relaxed than when they first sat down. A real blush darkened her already pink cheeks, telling him that she had a bit of a crush on the New Yorker. The way Bronx looked at her said he felt the same, and a surge of protectiveness came over him.

 _She's_ _not_ _your sister, Goober. You just treat her like one_. Justin heard the last in his brother's voice and gave himself an internal eye roll, while replying in his own voice, _Bite me, Troglodyte_.

Bronx went over to the curtains and parted them just enough to be able to see the audience, his eyes searching the auditorium. His smile dimmed. "Guess Ma couldn't make it. 'S okay, though. She's gotta work."

Amara, who only came up to Bronx's collarbone in the heels, pushed in front of him. "Mom's here, and she with that guy from the coffee shop, David." She gasped. "And Dad's with them!"

Looking over their shoulders, Justin spotted his family. A small sharp inhale came from behind him. Sean again. He saw them too. Justin pointed to the middle section just forward of the balcony's edge. "Mom, Dad, my twin, Chase, his fiancée, Iris, my cousin Mia, her boyfriend Sam, and Wanda." He was glad that, for once, Aaron wasn't with her. "Gramps stayed at home with Nat, and Pietro stayed because Nat did. My sister Joi is working, and her husband, Steve, is taking care of their daughter, Alice. My cousin Nicole is about to graduate with her Masters, and Gracie has to attend school."

"Wow!" Gus exclaimed from behind them. "You got a big family."

Another stage hand stuck his head in their faces, speaking softly. "Places everyone. Ten minutes to curtain. At minus one minute, turn on your headsets and _no talking_." His voice faded away, now talking on the headset.

Justin didn't need to go over the song or steps again, but he did anyway just to pass the time. In the corner, Sean gave him a confident smile, pointed at his leg and made a breaking motion. Behind his back, Justin flipped him off.

 **Backstage**

Gus poked Justin, nodding over his shoulder. Standing in the wings were the announcers and presenters of the show. Suhanisa "Suzzie" Amin had the naturally tanned skin of someone with an Indian background. For today's show, she wore a black velvet miniskirt with a dark green satin blouse and beige sequined heels. Xander Maloney was fair all around, in a tailored dark blue three-piece suit and light blue tie. Both looked bored, speaking only to each other, never the contestants.

They'd seen them in the hall a few times, and Sloan had made the colossal mistake of fangirling all over them, even going so far as to ask for autographs. Both had given her a cold stare, turned on their heels and stalked away. A few minutes later, Patrick with the bad breath came into their rehearsal and had a short, whispered conversation with Jose. After he'd gone, and to embarrass Sloan in front of her peers, Jose loudly exclaimed, "Sloan, don't ever speak to the presenters or judges unless they speak to you first. Suzzie and Xander have lodged a complaint against you. One more, and you will be asked to leave."

It was the same day Jose had "fallen" down the stairs and twisted his ankle. Sean repeatedly denied tripping him, but Justin knew better. In fact, he had some ideas of his own for bringing the presenters out of the arrogance stratosphere. Implementation had to be subtle.

The show's theme music started and the change in the presenters was amazing. They smiled, Xander did one last hair check, tucked his notes in his breast pocket, and together, they walked out to the center of the stage to applause, whistles and cheers.

The music ended, and so did the applause. As always, Suzzie started them off. " _Thank you, and welcome to the eleventh season of_ _The Next American Star_ _! My name is Suzzie…_ "

More applause then it was Xander's turn. " _And I'm Xander Maloney. Backstage, we have twelve hopefuls to entertain and delight our studio and home audiences. Sadly, only ten of the twelve will go on to the next round_."

" _So get ready to cast your votes for your favorites! Until then, let's meet this year's contestants_."

Justin nudged Amara to remind her to smile while the orchestra played the intro to the opening number. She took a deep breath and nodded as the curtain opened and they all moved out onto the stage.

 **TBC**


	153. Chapter 153

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night, and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 153**

During rehearsals, Justin shamelessly used Sean to get him a spot in the back of the group. Not too hard a sell as he was one of the tallest men. Only Bronx at six-two, and one other guy were taller. In front of them were the three tallest women. And much to her chagrin, Amara, being the shortest of all the contestants, ended up in the front row. With Justin doing everything possible to build up her confidence, by the time they hit the dress rehearsal, aside from the too tall shoes, the girl was on the verge of taking on the world.

The curtains parted, and the twelve contestants spread out across the stage, singing the first line of their opening number together. It would give the audience a quick peek at their combined talent displayed for the world.

 _I say I'll rule the world_

The group rearranged itself with the women in front and men doing harmony.

 _Don't cloud my vision  
I'm telling you not today  
'Cause I'm seeing straight  
Made my decision_

The groups danced around each other, the men now in front and the women doing a little dance behind them.

 _Made it through the shades of grey  
Made it my own way  
I materialize the feeling  
To carry on, to carry on  
I know some will say I'm dreaming  
_

Everyone paired up boy/girl as they'd been instructed during rehearsals to dance and sing together, taking turns on the harmony.

 _But I carry on, I carry on_

 _They say no way, oh, I say I'll rule the world  
Ain't afraid of the walls, I'm a break 'em down  
They stay the same, oh, I'm feelin' high as a bird  
Ain't afraid of the ground, I'm a stay up_

 _I say yeah yeah yeah, they say no no no  
They say slow slow slow, I say go go go  
They say no way, oh, I say I'll rule the world  
I say I'll rule the world_

Singing while dancing, the women made dramatic, strong arm movements meant to draw attention,

 _I chased illusion  
Then I watched it fade to black  
Throwing me off track  
Found revolution  
Found it in a simple fact  
I ain't coming back_

The men followed suit for the next verse.

 _I materialize the feeling  
To carry on, to carry on  
I know some will say I'm dreaming_

 _But I carry on, I carry on_

Again, the group sang together, switching out on the harmonies, ending with a stunning pas a deux in a double figure eight.

 _They say no way, oh, I say I'll rule the world_

 _Ain't afraid of the walls, I'm a break 'em down  
They stay the same, oh, I'm feelin' high as a bird  
Ain't afraid of the ground, I'm a stay up_

 _I say yeah yeah yeah, they say no no no  
They say slow slow slow, I say go go go  
They say no way, oh, I say I'll rule the world  
I say I'll rule the world!  
_

The song ended with everyone back in their original positions, with only Justin not panting hard from their exertions. At the cue from the orchestra, everyone filed into the back, each heading to the dressing rooms to change for their first solo numbers.

Outside the dressing rooms, Justin caught Amara's eye, giving her a nod and a smile. She returned it and closed the door behind her.

~~O~~

Knowing Justin as he did, Sean had a sneaking suspicion that he might screw up on purpose just to get voted off the show. But he had an equally sneaky way to prevent it.

Standing outside the men's dressing room, Sean waited for the perfect candidate for his little scheme. And there he was. The guy Justin called Bronx was the perfect fit. Now wasn't the time, but later, at the hotel, while he was asleep, the campaign would begin. In preparation, he hummed the song from that night at his father's house. The one he himself had taken to heart when the decision was made to leave law school and give his all to music.

 _You've got to make your own music_ _  
_ _Sing your own special song,_ _  
_ _Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along_

~~O~~

By the time Justin came out of the men's dressing room, Amara was just going on for her first solo. She refused to tell him the song or even genre. By the end of the second measure, he knew the song. It spoke of blistering heartbreak, a former lover who had wounded her so badly she wouldn't risk giving her heart to another.

Her long-sleeved beige beaded costume hugged her curves, flaring out closer to her knees without reaching that far, and the heels matched exactly. The entire ensemble imbued the young woman with grace and sophistication that had been lacking in her Midwest upbringing. Perhaps due to her mother's influence. With this one moment, Amara showed the world that she was breaking out of that mold and setting herself free.

Justin was nineteen the year it was released and newly broken up with his high school boyfriend, who had gone off to university in another state nowhere near D.C. Within a few months, he'd also parted ways with the diplomat's daughter. There had been many tears, mostly on her part when she was forced to return to Tokyo. On the other hand, he was single and content, for the moment. After college, he'd had no one serious for years, man or woman, until he met Sean. Just the occasional booty call.

Standing with Bronx, they watched her walk to the mic, breathing, but barely moving otherwise, and eyes closed. There was so much emotion within the simple words that Justin believed that she'd had her heart broken, though he knew otherwise.

Silhouettes on the curtain hinted at the presence of back-up singers and dancers.

 _I will not make_

 _The same mistakes that you did_

 _I will not let myself_

 _Cause my heart so much misery_

 _I will not break_

 _The way you did, you fell so hard_

 _I've learned the hard way_

 _To never let it get that far_

 _Because of you_

 _I never stray too far from the sidewalk_

 _Because of you_

 _I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_

 _Because of you_

 _I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me_

 _Because of you_

 _I am afraid_

 _I lose my way_

 _And it's not too long before you point it out_

 _I cannot cry_

 _Because I know that's weakness in your eyes_

 _I'm forced to fake_

 _A smile, a laugh every day of my life_

 _My heart can't possibly break_

 _When it wasn't even whole to start with_

 _Because of you_

 _I never stray too far from the sidewalk_

 _Because of you_

 _I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_

 _Because of you_

 _I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me_

 _Because of you_

 _I am afraid_

 _Because of you_

 _Because of you_

Amara drew out the last note an extra few beats, letting it trail off, her hands lightly holding the microphone, tilting her head down and closing her eyes.

There was a long moment of silence, and the audience erupted with applause. Justin didn't want to hear the judges tear her down for starting them off with a sad song. He turned away and came right back.

The camera zoomed in on Xander and Suzzie looking stunned. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "That was amazing, wasn't it, Suz?"

"Absolutely, Xander. Such emotion…" she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

"Quite. And now it's time to hear from the judges."

On the monitor near the curtain controls, the camera angles switched to Jimmy Blue. He read over his handwritten notes, laid the paper on the table and folded his hands on top of it. "Before I get to my review, tell me one thing, young lady." Amara waited patiently for him to continue. "Who broke your heart?"

"Um, no one. I've never had a boyfriend."

Surprised, Troya Davenport sat up straight, adding to her height by two whole inches. "Never, _chère_?"

"No, ma'am. I've spent all my time in high school and after graduating working on my career."

The torch singer lowered her lashes to her notes. "You know what they say, _chère_. All work and no play and you go to bed cold and lonely. Live a little."

Amara smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Davenport."

Justin didn't stay to hear the rest. Amara would tell him what they said, or Wanda at dinner tonight with the family. He wasn't due to go on for a while, so he faded into the background and went down the hall to the men's dressing room. And of course, Sean was right there. "Stop following me."

"If you didn't want me here, you should've left the pendant at the hotel." He lounged against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, and the most infuriating smirk on his lips. "Besides, I wanna watch you get dressed." At Justin's glare, Sean's shoulders went up around his ears and down. "It's not like you can hide from me, so just let me enjoy it."

Flopping down on the sagging sofa, Justin kicked off his shoes. "For a dead guy, you sure are a pain in the ass." Padding over to the rack with his costumes, he stuck a finger in Sean's face. "No smartass remarks. I got no time for 'em tonight."

Sean disappeared from where he was holding up the wall to standing next to him. "Fine. Ruin the little bit of joy I get out of being dead."

"This from a guy who can pass through walls, create electromagnetic interference, teleport, is super-strong, can move objects with his mind and possess a living body."

"Keep giving me a hard time and I might just possess you and go on-stage in your place. Always wondered how I'd do on one of these shows."

Ignoring him, Justin reached for the costume he'd chosen for his performance, when all he really wanted to do was just go home, cuddle Dexter, Cleopatra, and Rey, and sleep for two days. With his back to Sean, Justin striped down to his boxers. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else, Sean?"

With hardly a pause, Sean responded, "Not till next Tuesday."

At the end of his patience, Justin turned on Sean, who vanished and reappeared on the other side of the room. "Since you're not taking all the blatant hints I'm throwing your way, I'll just say it. Get. _Out_!"

Wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something bad, his dead friend edged toward the door. "To quote Bugs Bunny, geez, what a _grouch_. Time to make like a tree."

On the last word, Sean snapped his fingers and vanished. Justin waited in case the newest bane of his existence was waiting to spring a gotcha. When he didn't reappear, Justin went back to changing. One of the staff mentioned that he was up next in hair and make-up. Fat chance! If the world didn't like his face and hair the way it is, then this would be over soon, and he could get back home where things didn't exactly make sense, but it was the devil he knew.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Sharing a table with Natasha and Joi, Rey engaged in lively discourse about the show while Rio talked to Steve and Bucky about their Howling Commando days. She hadn't seen her cousin so hyped about anything in years. Not since joining the Army.

As for herself, she felt better about the last few months, even putting the incident at the studio out of her mind.

"It's on! And it's Justin's turn!" Gracie informed them breathlessly at reading the banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen. She grabbed Alice's hand, seeming not to breathe as a spotlight lit the announcers standing at stage left near the curtains. They smiled brightly, but to Rey, it didn't feel real. She'd ask Justin the next time they talked.

Suzzie had changed into a sleeveless black silk dress with a design of red roses splashed along the left side, flowing across the chest and waist and black heels. A silk rose clip held back the right side of her hair allowing part of a neck tattoo to peek out just below the hairline. "Welcome back. Next up is a construction worker from our nation's capital."

"Let's give it up for Justin Lockwood!" Xander punctuated his words with applause as he and Suzzie faded into the dark.

Rey looked to her right when Joi held her hand. She squeezed back with a smile before giving all her attention to Justin's first solo performance.

The lights came up near the floor, silhouetting a form standing at the top of what looked like stairs carved into a pile of rocks. His head was tilted down and he was turned to the side. The intro played as the lights slowly illuminated Justin. He wore black pants, a black shirt with the two top buttons open with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and a black vest.

On stage right at the bottom of the stairs, a man and a woman came into sight, both holding electric guitars. Justin turned just his head then slowly, his body followed he planted his feet wide, arms loose at his sides as he lowered a smoldering gaze at the camera. Even knowing it was her imagination Rey felt he was looking right at her, sending a shudder of awareness down her spine just as it always did.

 _True you ride the finest horse I've ever seen  
Standing 16 one or two, with eyes wild and green_

His eyes slowly tracked from one side to the other, head barely moving.

 _You ride the horse so well, hands light to the touch_

 _I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

Just the right hand moved up to shoulder height. Eyes closing for a moment, he gave off a sense of regret. Coming down three steps, he widened his stance, sweeping his right arm across his body and back to his side. The guitar players sang harmony, echoing his words.

 _Ride on, see you_

 _I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to  
_

His gaze took on an expression that told the world of love lost.

 _Ride on, see you_

 _I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

Still facing the camera, Justin turned his body slightly to the side and gave a little head shake.

 _When you ride into the night, without a trace behind_

Justin raised his right hand, fingers curled, like the hand of some fantastic beast disemboweling his body.

 _Run your claw along my gut, one last time_

 _I turn to face an empty space, where you used to lie  
I look for the spark that lights the night  
Through a teardrop in your eye_

He ran down to the bottom of the stairs, striding purposefully toward the judges table as if they didn't exist in his sad little world. Arms wide to embrace someone who wasn't there.

 _Ride on, see you, I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

Moving a few feet to the left, Justin stopped, that smolder coming back, still tinged with regret and pain, begging her to understand why they couldn't be together.

 _Ride on, see you, I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

Taking a step back, Justin ran the few steps over to the guitarists, one foot on the bottom step. The woman played a somber solo while the man plucked the bass, somehow bringing even more sadness to the song.

 _Ride on, see you, I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

He strode to the edge of the stage, arms wide, taking up the same firm stance, head slightly lowered, giving the impression that the woman of whom he spoke sat in the front row.

 _Ride on, see you, I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to_

Now his expression turned to anger, but at himself, not the ghostly woman of the song.

 _I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to  
Whoa-o-o I could never go with you…_

He turned to go and came back, only his eyes changing, filling with the pain of their final separation.

… _no matter how I wanted to_

Tearing himself away, Justin ran from the stage as the lights went out, covering his exit.

The applause, on the screen and from the family and friends gathered hurt Rey's ears. Her awe at what had taken place tonight was so profound an experience she felt the sharp sting of tears for the mysterious woman who had been left behind. She jumped at Joi's touch on her hand.

"You look like you've been hit in the face with a frying pan."

"What? Oh, I'm fine. I just…" she gestured at the muted screen now showing Justin standing in front of the judges while they voiced their thoughts. "I've never seen him truly perform. In Discount Mart, at the club and family parties is one thing. I had absolutely no _idea_ he could do… _that_."

She patted her hand. "I admit it's a side of my brother the world doesn't often see, and it's been a while for us. He's never wanted to sing and dance professionally. The occasional karaoke is about all he does these days."

Flashing back to the night they ran into each other at the pub, Rey quashed a ribbon of jealousy at seeing him talking to that other woman and the man who'd been his date. Justin told her he hadn't slept with him, and until now, she hadn't given a thought to the possibility that he might've slept with the woman. Taking herself firmly by the emotions, Rey told that inner voice to shut the hell up and let her enjoy the party.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Dining Room**

The Barnes family took over several small tables in the corner waiting for Justin to arrive. In another part of the room, Amara sat with her parents, excited to see her dad after a long separation. The remaining contestants, including the two who'd been eliminated, were scattered throughout, talking and laughing.

As the group hit the entrance, applause erupted. Whistles and cheering came from the Barnes family. Justin had stayed at the back of the group, once again trying to go unnoticed. Not an easy task now that his face had been seen by millions of people. Even with letting the beard grow thicker, facial recognition would still be able to pick him out of a crowd. Not only that, but he and the others had been stopped by fans outside the hotel. Security sent them on their way, but young fangirls were stubborn. They went off the property and took up camp across the street where they could see who was coming and going. Justin thought about having Wanda do them all a favor then reminded himself that this was part of the package.

 _I'll be glad when it's over_ , he thought to himself.

Justin gave Gus's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Sorry you got the boot, pal."

Gus shrugged his shoulder. "I'm surprised anyone even listened to me after your performance. It was awesome, dude."

Spotting Sean on the other side of the room near Mia, Justin glared at him just for a second, wondering if he had something to do with the way the voting had gone. Wanda wouldn't have stuck her powers in where they didn't belong, so if someone had skewed the results, it had to be Sean.

The men and Gus's wife turned around as an older couple walked their sobbing daughter to the elevator, got on and disappeared from sight. They'd be gone in the next day or so, as would Gus.

"Thanks. And thanks for all the help. Maybe next time, right, honey?" Gus smiled and reached for his wife's hand. She crossed her arms to prevent it and looked away. To anyone else, it might seem that her attention was elsewhere and had missed the little social cues from her husband, but not to Justin.

"If you're ever in the D.C. area, give me a call."

Gus nodded, they shook hands, and he and his wife crossed to an empty table. His wife shook her head, and the two of them went out to the patio.

Keeping one eye on them and the other on his family, Justin approached the table to more applause. From strangers, the accolades weren't nearly as fulfilling as what he got from his family.

Carolyn jumped up to give him a hug. "You were fantastic, honey!"

"Thanks, Mom." Justin's phone beeped several times. Congratulations from family and friends back home. The only one he cared about hadn't come in. His mom sat down next to his dad and he took the only empty chair next to her. Wanda caught his eye and glanced over his shoulder telling him that Sean was back.

"So that's Mia's BF. I can see how he'd be called the Falcon." He crossed his arms. "What's he think of his GF having my baby?"

Justin turned to the side, hiding his face by pretending to scratch his nose. "Later."

Sean huffed and vanished, appearing on the other side of the room standing with Eva and King. However, they had Wanda in their sights. Drawing his finger quickly over his throat to indicate they should get lost, he nearly groaned out loud when Sam and Dean headed toward him. He made the gesture again. The brothers nodded and quickly turned in another direction at the same time the three ghosts vanished.

Putting on an earnest smile-he really was happy to see everyone-Justin accepted the beer he ordered. "How long are you here for?"

Inside his mind, he felt a quick ping from Wanda warning him against mentioning Aaron. * _Wasn't gonna lead with that, auntie_.*

** _Greatly appreciated, nephew. Hopefully, they won't have to meet at all_.**

* _Not even gonna write him when we get home?_ *

Wanda sipped her drink, both eyes on his. ** _Uncertain. Especially if he experiences embarrassment from fulfilling Eva and King's request._ **

Puzzled by her comment, he asked a question that, when he examined it in retrospect, should not have been brought up. * _And that is…_ *

The look in her eyes changed, and Justin immediately regretted his curiosity. ** _They wish to inhabit Aaron and me in order to make love once before they move on._ **

Justin choked on his beer, his dad and Sam slapping him on the back. Out loud, he said, "Wrong pipe."

Playing with her straw, Mia asked something he knew was on everyone's mind. "Tell us, cuz. What song will you sing to knock them on their asses and secure the win?"

"That's need-to-know." He gave the table an innocent smile and opened the menu, hoping they would cop to the fact that he had no idea what he was going to do because he hoped to be eliminated by then. "Later, we should take a walk up the beach to the coffee shop where Wanda hangs out."

Inside his head, Justin heard and felt just one word so loud, he winced. The surprise came from the fact that he had no idea she even knew what it meant. Holding the menu, he looked over the top to see her hazel eyes blazing. * _What're you complaining about? Aaron won't be there_.*

Those eyes of fire dropped to her menu and she ignored him for the rest of the meal.

 **The Rogers Home**

After the excitement of Justin's first show, Alice had finally fallen asleep. Steve softly pulled the door closed, leaving it ajar a few inches so they could hear if she called out during the night.

The moment they arrived home, Joi had gotten a call from Laz and Bella requesting a conference call with their three hosts.

Steve had just gotten comfortable in front of the television when Joi came out of the den and flopped down next to him with her head on his shoulder.

"How did it go?"

Joi inhaled, thought better of what she would say, muttering, "I want to stab everyone."

Knowing she wasn't serious, Steve muted the television, laid the remote on the end table and held her close. "Just make sure you don't leave behind any evidence."

She chuckled and pushed back to look into his eyes. "I love you for enabling me." Settling against him again, she laid her hand on his chest. "What would you have done if I'd been serious?"

"Called Nat."

" _Nat_? Why?"

Steve held her against his chest again. "She knows the best places to hide bodies. Bucky'll help."

"How do you figure?"

"A friend will help you move, but a _best friend_ with help you move a _body_." Joi laughed, and Steve was reminded of Novacek and the bizarre nature of the man's death. "I don't buy that Novacek died of natural causes."

Again, Joi pushed back to look at his face. "You think it was a member of the family."

Her comment had the tone of a statement, not a question. "Don't _you_?"

"Well, yeah, but _who_? The first names that come to mind, and I really hate saying this, are Nat, Gramps, Pietro, and Wanda. Gramps is the only one of them who lacks the skill set to do the deed without leaving evidence. Whoever did it, does, and that brings us back to Nat, the twins, or one of her SHIELD colleagues."

"Bucky and Nat could've done it together." They parted, all business now. "Not to mention you're purposely leaving out someone who has those same skills."

Joi jumped up and paced over to stand in front of the fireplace. She picked up the framed photo of the entire family from a long-ago gathering. "Before his disappearance, I'd've said no way my brother could've done something so heinous. But now… I don't know _what_ to think. That night, Pietro said he saw him go into a night club, and we didn't hear from Justin for a couple of days. Don't know about anyone else, but I assumed he'd picked up some guy or girl and spent the night with them. The other days, he was working, or so he said. But then I remembered he left Dexter with the twins. He only did that when he was going to be too busy to take care of him, or his PTSD was about to flare up."

Steve slid one hand around her waist, holding her close, and kissing her temple. "Don't let 'what ifs' drive you crazy, babe." He took the photo, replaced it on the mantel and forced her to look at him. "Concentrate on ideas for decorating the baby's room and Justin's awesome performance tonight."

Her smile made the mood of the room lighter, pride in her brother shining through. "Except for that Alejandra person, he received the highest score of all the contestants. And that girl, Amara. She came in second to Justin. I could see his hand in her performance. He had to have given her some pointers if everyone believed she had her heart broken."

Taking her hand, Steve led Joi toward their bedroom. He didn't look for the dogs because he know they were in Alice's room. Since the day they moved into their perfect home, Bruno and Trixie had chosen to sleep with their daughter instead of "Mom" and "Dad".

~~O~~

Meanwhile, in another part of D.C., Dr. Temperance Brennan stood beside her best friend, Angela Montenegro-Hodgins, watching a ten-second enhanced video, arms crossed, centered on the lone figure carrying a body that could only be Novacek. She barely glanced at the video and turned away. "The killer is a woman."

Looking from the paused playback to Brennan with her mouth open, Angela commented, "I believe you. Don't need to know how you know. So, what do we do about it."

"She is Caucasian, past middle age, and exceptionally fit. More so than ninety-eight percent of her peers." Brennan left Angela's video room and she followed. "Unfortunately, we have nothing else to go on."

"Right. There must be thousands of people who fit that general description."

Brennan went up the stairs to her computer lab with Angela only a step behind. "Including myself and Cam. However…"

Angela snorted. "Neither of you have a motive for killing this Novacek guy. And of those who do, there're several who fit that demographic." She used the tablet in her hands to bring up information. "It's a short list. Olivia Barnes Doyle, Carolyn Barnes Lockwood, and Suzanna Davis Barnes. Youngest daughter, oldest daughter, and daughter-in-law to James Buchanan Barnes and Natasha Romanoff-Barnes respectively." She huffed with frustration. "Should I bother mentioning they all have unimpeachable alibis for the window?"

The computer came alive, and Brennan gave it all her attention. "I consider the matter closed, and you should as well. I'll call Caroline in the morning to thank her for advocating on my behalf."

"Booth had a little to do with it too."

"Yes, I know." A small smile turned up the corner of her mouth facing Angela. "I've already thanked my husband with a full night of sports related viewing, followed by passionate love making."

In her eyes, Angela could see that Brennan had already let the case go, at least for now. Knowing her best friend as she did, Angela wouldn't've been at all surprised if her subconscious was still working on it. "Good for you, _and_ for him. You okay by yourself? I need to get home."

"Of course."

Brennan had already slipped into another case, leaving this one behind. Though the solution still nagged at her, Angela would also let it go. She shut down the Angela-tron and locked up for the night.

 **The Next American Star Studio**

 **Three Nights Later**

Unable to stand still, Amara paced to keep from adjusting her wig and touching her face, afraid she'd make a mess of the make-up it took three hours to apply. The song she chose was nothing like anything she'd done before, as was the costume. In the video for the song, the lead singer had blonde hair and wore a gauzy white dress. At Justin's suggestion, she went to the opposite end of the spectrum, making her look wild and dangerous. Now all she had to do was remember the lyrics and the steps Justin had drummed into her over the last three days.

Giving in with a growl, she went to stand in front of the full-length mirror, examining herself with a critical eye. Bronx's smiling face appeared over her shoulder, and she turned to face him, a tentative smile on her face, waiting for his reaction. "What d'you think?"

His jaw dropped, and a sexy smile showed off his perfect teeth. "Oh, wow. You really brought it tonight, Amara."

She took in his costume with a slow once-over, letting him know with her eyes that she liked what she saw. "Look who else brought it. Wow, indeed."

A coy smile answered her comment. "Ya know, I thought about leavin' it at the hotel, but I didn't want to get here and find out I needed it and have to go all the way back to get it." His grin widened. "So, yeah. I brought it."

He hesitated and seemed about to say something more when the other eight contestants showed up. As always, Justin stayed at the back of the group. Amara looked them over. "Looks like we all brought it tonight. Exploding group fist bump!"

They tapped fists and made the sound of an explosion just as Suzzie and Xander passed by, looking on with disapproval. Xander huffed, disdain in his voice and posture, matched by Suzzie. "This is a competition, not a Saturday night sleep over with your besties. Next you'll be braiding each other's hair and talking about One Direction."

Not waiting for a response, Suzzie took Xander's arm and led him away without a backward glance.

~~O~~

Justin resisted the urge to hunt them both down and teach them a lesson on how to talk to people but didn't want to cause a disruption. Instead, he went over Amara's costume, awed that she'd come so far in just the few days they'd known each other.

For this episode, the contestants were to step outside their comfort zone. The song would be a hit, and with that outfit, she'd kick ass.

Amara's short blonde hair had been hidden under a long black wig, the straight strands hanging down to her narrow waist. The bangs just touched the top curve of her eyebrows. The corset like top pushed her breasts in and up, forcing them into position to show more cleavage than he thought she possessed, and left a thin sliver of midriff showing. The black skirt stopped at mid-thigh, and the pleats displayed fine chainmail that reflected the lights. Her accessories included a black choker, elbow-length fingerless gloves, matching ankle boots with buckles and two-inch heels. Her gothic make-up went the smoky-eye one better, and her lipstick was the color of cried blood. If he hadn't heard her speak, Justin might not have known it was her.

As before, a stagehand passed out headsets, and a few minutes later, Xander and Suzzie announced the first performer.

Standing in the wings, Justin silently praised his fellow contestant for his song and costume choice. Tapping his heel to the beat, he suppressed a cringe at the man's stumble through the lyrics. He caught a glance passing between the judges as they made notes. _That lost him a few points_ , Justin thought. _If he makes it past this round, I'll offer to help him with the next one._

On top of that thought, Justin felt a surge in his danger sense, only this time it was much stronger than before. It had the same "taste" as the others, telling him the source was consistent. A dangerous man or woman, he couldn't tell which, had to be close by, and didn't have benevolent intentions toward the occupants of the theater. How could he protect them if he couldn't locate the source of the danger?

 **TBC**

Note: The longer songs were shortened to fit with the format of the show.

"Rule the World" was released as the first single to promote Walk off the Earth's studio album _Sing It All Away._ The music video, directed by John Poliquin, was released on March 31, 2015.

"Because of You" is a song recorded by American pop singer Kelly Clarkson. It was written by Clarkson along with its producers David Hodges and Ben Moody, both from Evanescence, and was released on August 16, 2005.

"Ride On" is the title track to the album _Ride On_ by Irish folk singer Christy Moore, released in 1984, and remains one of his most popular songs. One of the best covers is by Ryan Kelly of Celtic Thunder.


	154. Chapter 154

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions.

Note: The RL issue plaguing my family is the passing of my father. He will be laid to rest soon. He didn't believe in God. However, my family and I would appreciate prayers.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 154**

The presenters passed Sean in the hallway without acknowledging him. But then, they'd have done the same if he'd been among the living. He saw the contempt with which they held the contestants behind their backs and decided to sneak into their dressing room to listen in on their personal conversations. Telling Justin wouldn't get him anywhere because he'd say to let it go. _Can't do that, Beeb. I've got all those special powers. Let's put 'em to use_.

He faded out, following in their wake, working out how best to bring those despotic assholes down a few pegs. They stopped near the stage entrance, awaiting their cue.

Grinning to himself, Sean came up behind them, looking from one to the other over their shoulders. The woman wore a super short dark red full shirt belted at the waist, a long-sleeved blouse a few shades lighter that was too tight and had a plunging neckline. Strappy heels and gold jewelry completed the ensemble.

Sean used a finger to lift the back of the skirt, and another to pull the elastic away from her body and push it down inside the overpriced thong she wore in place of panties, giggling at the butterfly tattoo on her left cheek that looked more like a bloodshot eye. _She must've been a chubby girl once upon a time._ He turned to the guy, tapping his chin with a finger, and got a brilliant idea.

The theme music played. The pair put on fake smiles for the cameraman standing a few feet in front of them.

"Good thing this is live," Sean muttered under his breath to no one.

Xander started them off, speaking as he and Suzzie took slow steps toward the stage, the cameraman keeping pace. Sean followed, and waited until his next inhale to use his burgeoning powers to blow dust in the man's face causing him to sneeze. Mucus flew from his mouth and nose, covering the camera lens with yellowish globs.

Suzzie gasped, turned her back to the camera and moved in front of Xander, dipping her hand into his pocket for a tissue. A puzzled expression came over her at the audience's laughter, turning into a scowl at the cameraman, who hadn't stopped filming.

"Shouldn't make that face, sweetheart. It causes wrinkles." To add insult to injury, Sean blew dust in her face too, making her eyes water and her mascara run.

The cameraman finally shut down and the orchestra segued into another song while the presenters sorted themselves out.

"That's what you get for treating people like shit: A free ride on the Karma Train courtesy of Captain Riggs, Esquire." Once the lens was clean, Sean turned the camera back on, now pointed at Suzzie's nearly naked backside, the skirt still wadded up inside her thong and her tattoo out there for all to see.

He popped up to the control room to verify that the whole scene was being shown on the giant screens to left and right of the stage. The laughter signaled rave reviews. "Nice work, Riggs." Within seconds, the scene had vanished. "Oh, snap!"

An older woman standing to one side wearing a headset and a pained expression had a short, whispered conversation with an assistant. The younger man nodded and ran from the room. Sean followed him out of the soundproof room, and down a set of stairs that came out at seating level. He made a crouching run over to Jimmy, whispered in his ear, and made the return trip.

Jimmy got up, buttoned his jacket, performing a hair check on his way to the stairs that led to the stage. He was handed a microphone and when he looked over his shoulder, Sean saw the twinkle of suppressed humor in his eyes. Applause greeted his walk to the center of the stage. "Thank you. Unfortunately, Xander and Suzzie are experiencing…" his grin widened, "technical difficulties. They'll be with us next time, but just for tonight, I will play the part of MC." He grinned and winked at the camera. "Good thing we have a teleprompter."

He was good at his job, making it look like he knew what was going on, and maybe he did. Sean thought it too bad he couldn't talk to Jimmy one last time before he headed into the sunset.

Across the way, Sean saw Justin lean his shoulder against the wall. He smiled and gave a thumbs up. Then someone came along and took his attention.

Praising himself on a job well-done, Sean faded out as he plotted and planned events for next time. As he passed the dressing room shared by Xander and Suzzie, he heard them talking and it gave him several ideas. If he worked it out just right, they might even lose their jobs.

~~O~~

With the group down to eight, Amara knew tonight's performance had to be perfect or she'd likely be voted off the show. In the beginning, she hadn't wanted to compete, doing it only because her mother made a compelling case for it. Then she met Justin, who was kind, patient, understanding, and most of all, exceptionally talented. From the moment they met, he gave off a sense of only being here to please someone else, just like her. Not only that, but since the last show, she hadn't heard or seen him practicing his routine for tonight, though performing a song in a genre you wouldn't normally do was one of the most important elements in determining the winner. The purpose was to show how adaptable you were to change, and to challenge you as a performer.

The song ended, and Jimmy came back on stage. The applause died down, and he announced a commercial break. That was Amara's cue. She moved into place behind the curtain with the back-up singers and dancers positioned around her. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths to calm her wildly beating heart, while at the same time bringing to mind everything Justin had taught her.

The lights dimmed until she could barely see her own hand. Crickets and cicadas chirped. High above, the full moon rose into the artificial sky, clouds drifting by, partially obscuring the moon. A rhythmic drumbeat started out softly, barely heard. Though she knew it was her imagination, Amara felt the audience holding their breath, like one does in a horror movie when you know something bad is about to happen.

The drumming got louder and evened out as the curtain parted. Amara and the dancers took slow, measured steps forward with their heads down. On the third step she slowly looked up, eyes focused on the distance, a small smile playing on her lips, imagining she was alone in a dark forest, and instead of being frightened, she was the one to be feared.

The song relied heavily on vocal harmonies, and dissonant notes, giving the lyrics a supernatural, folklore-ish feel that caressed the soul before grabbing it by the throat.

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
_

The dancers stomped their feet, just the right, as they moved toward the judge's table.

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down_

 _If you get sleep or if you get none  
(The cock's gonna call in the morning, baby)_

The group kept stomping in place with Amara out in front, the sound echoing eerily through the theater.

 _Check the cupboard for your daddy's gun  
(Red sun rises like an early warning)_

From inside their cloaks, the dancers pulled out lanterns like one might've seen in the seventeenth century, lifting them to head height, the candles casting flickering shadows through the air.

 _The Lord's gonna come for your first-born son  
(His hair's on fire and his heart is burning)_

As one, they hit their right hand against their chests over their hearts.

 _So go to the river where the water runs  
(Wash him deep where the tides are turning)_

 _And if you fall  
If you fall_

The dancers spread out in a semi-circle on either side. Amara brought her arms up to shoulder height and turned the palms face up.

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down_

To her left and right, the dancers clapped their hands together over their heads, palm to palm as coming down to their chests in prayer.

 _The wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight  
(Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger)_

Throughout the song, they continued to stomp and march in place, each step sounding more and more ominous.

Taking a trick knife from the folds of her skirt Amara brought her hands together in front of her breastbone. With the dim light reflecting off the shiny surface, the knife looked real. The audience gasped as blood dripped from the point.

 _Drive your son like a railroad spike  
_

She plunged the knife into an invisible chest with a smile, showing no remorse.

 _(Into the water, let it pull him under)_

Her eyes opened wide, making her look mad. Amara raised both arms out to the side until they were shoulder height, the knife still in her right hand.

 _Don't you lift him, let him drown alive  
(The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder)  
Let that fever make the water rise  
(And let the river run dry)_

The dancers moved around her as her arms came down to her sides again. A breeze sprang up, blowing her hair away from her face.

 _And I said_

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way down_

The lights went out leaving only small pools that allowed the audience to see them. Her left hand came up, a glowing pentagram carved into her palm and fingers slightly curled. Amara clenched her fingers and the dancers froze in place…

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
_

Head tilted down, she picked someone in the front row as her focal point, keeping her eyes locked on theirs. A devilish smirk came over her features. She twisted her left hand, and the dancers collapsed on the floor.

 _Hold my hand  
Ooh, baby, it's a long way down, a long way do-o-own_

Turning quickly, so her hair flew around her head, she carelessly stepped over the "bodies" as if they were nothing and disappeared into the darkness until she could no longer be seen.

~~O~~

In their shared dressing room, Suzzie used oil-free make-up remover towelettes she had specially made for her skin to wipe her face clean. In the mirror, she watched Xander take off his suit and examine it carefully.

"Shit! It's a Brioni, and I just got it from the tailor two days ago. Hasn't been worn. Now there's yuck all over the jacket."

She moved her nose to one side to clean that little crease where it attached to her upper lip. "Relax, Xan. I'm sure the cleaners will take good care of it."

Xander folded the jacket with the inside facing out and draped it over a chair they never used. "That's _not_ the point." He huffed loudly, his shoes hitting the floor one after the other. "Don't know why they couldn't just let us make repairs and still do the show."

The used towelette went into the trash can and Suzzie leaned forward to check that all the make-up was gone. Picking up a small jar of cream, she dabbed a small amount on her fingers, applied it strategically to her face before massaging it in. "Didn't want the sponsors to get restless, or some such nonsense." Plucking another towelette from a different container, she wiped her hands free of the cream and stood. As she turned to face her partner with her arms crossed over the front of her silk dressing gown. He took off the matching slacks, leaving him wearing an undershirt that common slang called a wife-beater, boxers and a pair of socks.

Sitting side by side on the sofa, Suzzie took his left foot in her lap and eased that sock off. She did the same to the other and stood in front of him with a sultry smile. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

His smile matched hers. Crossing his arms, he grasped the bottom of the undershirt, pulled it off over his head and tossed it in a dark corner. At the same time, she untied the belt and slowly parted the sides of the gown.

Xander's eyes widened as did his smile at seeing she only wore the thong panties he'd glimpsed earlier, along with several million viewers of the live program. The gown slid down her arms to pool at her feet. At the same time, he reached over the armrest and hit a button that turned the sofa into a double bed.

His hands settled on her waist as she knelt astride his lap, letting him look his fill. Suzzie lowered her head, hands gently touching his cheeks while they ravaged each other's mouths.

Sliding his hands around to her spine, he pulled her close, letting them fall to the side and over onto his back until she was lying along the length of him. "Mmm. I missed you last night," she murmured against his lips.

"Couldn't be helped. My wife's parents were in town for their anniversary. Attendance was mandatory."

Panting, Suzzie reached between them, working her fingers under the elastic of his boxers, making him groan. "You're forgiven."

They rolled and now Xander was over her. He removed her hand from inside he boxers and scooted back until his knees were on either side of her lower thighs, curling his fingers over the elastic of her thong. "Let me make it up to you."

Unseen and unheard by either occupant, Sean's ghostly form came through the locked door, stumbling back a step. "Whoa! Didn't need to see _that_." He turned his back and stopped, an evil smile curving his lips. "Thanks for giving me another idea, guys." Waiting a few beats, Sean turned around, watching them curiously. From the look on her face, Suzzie wasn't enjoying herself as much as her vocalizations indicated. "Hmm… Maybe Mia was right. I should've shared that tongue thing with the world before I died."

With his back to the couple, Sean went to the vanity where their cell phones were laying. They were turned off, but that wouldn't be a hinderance to his plan. Pressing his fingers to his temple, he concentrated, and the phones powered up. "Now to find the right numbers… No… No… No… Ah. There we go… Shame on both of you, cheating on your spouses. You need to learn quite a few lessons, it seems. Now we dial her hubs and his wifey and let the chips fall where they may."

In the hall, a stagehand was about to knock on the dressing room door. Leaning close, Sean whispered in his ear. "They're busy. Come back later."

Earlier that day, Sean had tested his ability to influence minds. He wasn't as good as Wanda, but it worked. Fortunately for him, this guy was particularly susceptible to "suggestion". The man turned and walked away. "Handy little power." He rubbed his palms together gleefully. "Let's see what other mischief can I get into."

~~O~~

Awaiting his turn to go on, Justin resisted pacing by finding a dark corner where he was certain no one would look for him. Pride surged inside for Amara's performance, which received a standing ovation. He doubted anyone would remember him when it came time to vote.

He occupied his mind by bringing out the memory of Rey's call after the first episode.

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Roof**

 **Night of the First Episode**

Standing at the parapet, looking out over the ocean, Justin's mind finally stopped whirling from the evening's activities. The wind and waves calmed his emotions. He loved his family, but they could get on his nerves sometimes. Strange how whenever he or Wanda or the ghosts needed alone time they came to the roof.

His phone vibrated against his backside, signaling an incoming call. Taking it out as he took a seat on the steps, Justin was surprised to see that the call was from Rey. "Hey."

" _Hi. It's good to hear your voice in person instead of on the television_."

"Ah, you saw the show." In the background, he heard talking and laughter. "Where are you?"

Rey's footsteps carried her away from the cacophony of voices. The door closed, and it was quiet again. " _At your grandfather's. Natasha invited my cousin and I to watch the show with them_."

Leaning back on his elbows, Justin stretched his legs out in front of him. "Why do they get to meet your cousin before I do?"

" _Because Nat's stubborn. And because Rio's in the 107_ _th_ _, she thought he'd enjoy meeting not one but_ _two_ _of the original Howling Commandos_." She chuckled. " _You should've seen his face when James answered the door, and again when he saw Steve_."

"I can imagine." He inhaled and let it out. "What did _you_ think of the show?"

There was a long pause during which Justin heard Rey scoot around to get more comfortable. " _You were… amazing, Justin. All this time and I had no idea the true extent of your musical talent. Your performance was… I'm not ashamed to say that if you'd been here, I'd've taken you the second you stepped through the door_."

 _Damn! What am I supposed to say to that?_ Rey loved him. She was supposed to feel special around him. But what about the girls and women lurking outside the studio and the hotel? Having them call his name and beg for his autograph gave him a creepy feeling inside. "My loss then."

The tone of her voice changed to that whisper soft feel when she was aroused, and it had the same effect on him, whether he heard it in person, or like now, over the phone.

" _I promise to make it up to you_."

Her sexy whisper had his full attention. "Yeah? When?"

The phone was muffled for a few moments then she was back. " _Depends. Were you serious about wanting me to visit?_ "

"Absolutely. I'll even pay for your ticket. How fast can you get here?"

" _Not for a few days. Margo had to go out of town. I'll text you_."

Justin's super-powered hearing picked up voices in the stairwell. "Or you could surprise me." Wanda and Aaron reached the landing just before the roof access. "Gotta go, Rey. Love you."

He shoved the phone into his back pocket, ran to the side of the roof away from the door, jumped up on the parapet, climbed down to their floor, eased the window open and let himself in.

 **Present**

The song Justin had chosen, "Ride On", felt somewhat boring during his rehearsals. Then he got out on stage where he could see viewers' reactions first-hand. His plan had been to stand in one place, sing the song and get voted off, but the words and music pushed him to action. Later, Bronx told him that the women had watched his performance with dreamy besotted expressions, even Alejandra. Justin had laughed it off, but later, he got to thinking that maybe he was better than he thought. When performing, something inside him changed. He became one with the music.

Getting to his feet, Justin did the hair, clothes and breath check on his way out to the waiting area. Patrick ran up to him looking harried. "There you are. The conductor is pitching a fit. You were supposed to email your music to him two days ago."

Justin shrugged and kept going, forcing Patrick to follow or get left behind. "Don't have any music."

Patrick tapped his headset. "It's me… None… A cappella, I guess… Got it." To Justin, he said, "They're almost ready for you. How d'you want the stage set up?"

"No set-up. All I need is a piano and a guitar."

He tapped the headset again. "Piano and guitar… Didn't say… No, I'm _not_ draggin' his ass down to Monroe's office for another talkin' to." He took off the headset. "**** 'em. Do what you want, dude. I'm takin' a break."

The other man ran down the hall and out the back door. Justin shook his head and wandered in the direction of the stage to watch the end of Bronx's performance. From this vantage point he could see his family. Sean was sitting on the steps to Mia's left and appeared to be talking to himself. Whatever.

Justin put his headset on, adjusted the mic out of way and moseyed down to the bathroom for hair, clothes and breath check. He took care of business, washed his hands and left the bathroom, almost running into one of the other contestants, a girl by the name of Willow. It wasn't her real name, but she thought it made her appear dark and mysterious. The only mystery was why she thought renaming herself Willow would do the trick when the name brought to mind a tree with elegantly flexible branches and a red-headed witch whose best friend's name was Buffy.

Another stagehand appeared, no less harried than Patrick had been. "Ten minutes, Mr. Lockwood. They're moving the piano on stage now."

~~O~~

The audience was getting restless, and still Justin waited for his cue. Jimmy was sitting at the judge's table talking to Troya while Alejandra ignored them in favor of looking at herself in the mirror. Tonight, she wore an enormous hat similar to those some women wore to church, a black dress that appeared demure until she crossed her legs and the slit exposed her lightly tanned skin up to the top of her thigh.

Jimmy nodded to someone, excused himself and took his place on the stage to applause that sounded like relief. "And we're back! Is everyone having a good time?" The applause was loud and long, punctuated with whistles and cheers, some of which came from his family. "Fantastic! I know you'd rather have me stand here and talk, but we've got an impatient contestant in the wings waiting for his turn to knock your socks off. Once again, give it up for Justin Lockwood!"

Justin turned on his headset and jogged to center stage, waving and smiling at the crowd. Here and there, people held up signs decorated with glitter spelling out his name. "Thanks, Jimmy."

Once Jimmy was seated, Theo leaned into the mic to speak. "We're a bit puzzled, Justin. The conductor said that you failed to provide him with music for tonight's performance."

Troya light wrapped her slender fingers around the mic. The sultry look in her eyes reminded him of a jungle cat stalking prey. "A situation that is unprecedented for the show. Why is that, _chère_?"

Not the least intimidated, Justin returned the look, surprising them all by a near-perfect imitation of Troya's feline purr. "Because, _chère_ , tonight is about stepping out of your comfort zone, performing a song or genre that you've never tried before, or tried and failed miserably. Am I right?"

"Indeed you are."

Justin gave them his most charming smile, hands out to side in a "there you have it" gesture. "The answer is simple. I don't _have_ a comfort zone."

"You will not be performing tonight?" Alejandra's eyes flicked over to Troya, and for the first time, she spoke English. "If so, _vato_ , you should know that you would be immediately disqualified from further participation."

Everyone, including Justin, stared wide-eyed at Alejandra while the audience whispered among themselves.

 _Two can play this game,_ _chica_. Giving her a nod in acceptance of the challenge in her eyes, Justin went so far as to move over in front of the Mexican singer, addressing her in Spanish. "Doña Güereña, I would be pleased to have you and the other judges choose my material for me." Aiming his next words at all four, this time in English, he signed while he spoke. "Anything you want to hear. I do a few speaking and singing imitations and speak seven languages, five fluently." At Troya's nod, he rattled off the list. "English, Russian, Spanish, Urdu, French, German and ASL."

Theo sat up and actually seemed interested, as well as a bit smug. "Do Cher." He leaned over to let Troya whisper in his ear. "In Russian."

A small cringe didn't escape Jimmy's attention. "O-oh. Is that fear I see in your eyes?"

He waved away the suggestion. "No. It's just… I haven't done Cher since my 7th grade talent contest, which I won, by the way. That was before my voice changed." He waited out the laughter and made his choice. Going to the edge of the stage near the conductor, he gave him the name of a song and returned to center stage. "Since I don't look anything like Cher, you'll just have to imagine me in a see-through sequined gown and curly black hair."

More laughter as the band played the intro to one of her biggest hits. A quick glance at the big screens verified that his words would be translated for the audience. "This is dedicated to my step-grandmother, who is Russian."

 _I was five and he was six  
We rode on horses made of sticks  
He wore black and I wore white  
He would always win the fight_

 _Bang bang, he shot me down  
Bang bang, I hit the ground  
Bang bang, that awful sound  
Bang bang, my baby shot me down_

 _Music played, and people sang  
Just for me the church bells rang_

 _Now he's gone, I don't know why  
And 'till this day, sometimes I cry  
He didn't even say goodbye  
He didn't take the time to lie_

 _Bang bang, he shot me down  
Bang bang, I hit the ground  
Bang bang, that awful sound  
Bang bang, my baby shot me down_

The applause started before the last note faded away. Not caring if the judges were impressed, Justin thought that would be the end of it. But then, Jimmy spoke up. "Sinatra. In English."

One eyebrow inched up his forehead. A smirk came over his lips and he winked. "Frank or Nancy?"

Troya, one hand to her chest, caught his gaze. "Frank. I leave the song choice to you, _chère_."

Again, Justin consulted with the conductor and returned to his place on stage while the intro played. The mics in front of the judges were wireless, giving him an idea. He pocketed his headset, jumped off the stage and swept up Theo's mic, using it to sing directly to Troya.

 _Fly me to the moon_

 _Let me play among the stars_

 _I want to know what spring is like_

 _On Jupiter and Mars_

 _In other words, hold my hand_

 _In other words, baby, kiss me_

Justin held Troya's hand, pulled her to him, spinning her in a circle next to the table while the audience applauded.

 _Fill my heart with song_

 _And let me sing for evermore_

 _You are all I long for_

 _All I worship and adore_

 _In other words, please be true_

 _In other words…_

 _In other words…_

 _I love you!_

On the last note, Justin leaned Troya into a dip and back up. He escorted her to her chair, kissed the back of her hand, returned Theo's mic and jumped onto the stage, bowing to the applause. Before the judges could speak, he motioned for quiet. "Because dancing is a part of the program, how about a short demonstration?" There was a short conference among the judges, who nodded agreement. "I'll need another partner."

Justin jumped off the stage again, scanning the audience. Women, and a few men, waved to volunteer as his partner. In the end, he leaned close to Alejandra. " _Bailar conmigo_ _, cara bella_." The woman hesitated, and Justin pressed his advantage, still speaking Spanish. "I've seen your movies. You are an exceptional dancer."

She stood, showing herself to be shorter than him by only a few inches in the heels she wore. He led her to the conductor and whispered a few words in his ear. They climbed the stairs to the stage. Someone, he didn't know who, had changed the backdrop to resemble an Argentine night club.

Alejandra and Justin faced each other, side by side, hands on hips, turning clockwise. "Together, we roam the slums of Buenos Aires." They changed direction. "We have no home, no car. We don't know where our next meal is coming from." Alejandra grabbed the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to walk backward. "But tonight, none of that matters because," the orchestra made a musical flourish as he urged her to back up until they were at center stage again and took her in his arms, "we have the tango!"

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Bar**

Sitting in an empty booth, eyes riveted on the television, Eva and King held their breath as Justin and Alejandra danced a flawless tango. Justin escorted Alejandra back to the table and returned to the stage to await the next request. By their reckoning Justin has exceeded the time allotted to each contestant, though no one seemed to be complaining. Quite the opposite. The applause went on until the show took a commercial break.

"Bravo, Justin!" Eva gushed, she and King clapping for their favorite contestant.

"I say, it's too bad we aren't able to, what do they call it, log on in order to cast our vote in his favor."

Eva gave her man a secretive smile. "Oh, but we can, darling. Sean's been teaching me how to affect electronic devices such as computers. When the show is over, we'll go up to the room and use Wanda's."

Pulling her close, King kissed her cheek. "A positively smashing idea, my love."

Hands in her lap, she lifted her chin proudly. "I learned how to tango a few years before I died. I'm sure I can remember the steps."

"Oh?"

"My agent got me a part in the movie _Dance the Night Away_ by telling them I knew how to dance then secretly sent me for lessons. I was even nominated for an award."

He hugged her tighter for a moment. "We'll go dancing one night then. Just the two of us."

Eva patted his knee. "It's on! It's on!"

The man named Jimmy was speaking. " _Do you have family in the audience, Justin?_ "

" _I do. Mom and Dad, my brother and his fiancée, my cousin, her BF, and my aunt_."

" _You must be close_."

Justin smiled and for the first time, appeared shy. " _We are. The rest of the family's watching at home_."

The petite woman sitting next to Jimmy leaned closer to her mic. " _We understand you play an instrument as well as sing and dance_."

" _Piano and guitar_." He waggled his hand. " _Messed around with a ukulele too, once upon a time._ "

The man with the long braids smiled. "Play us a tune. Anything will do."

The piano was rolled out onto the stage, and when it was in position, Justin made himself comfortable on the bench. He flexed his hands and fingers. " _Everyone loves Beethoven. I'm gonna go with_ _the big guy's_ _Piano Sonata No.32; Op.111 in C Minor_ _. Just the first half of the first movement. Wouldn't want the viewers to change the channel._ "

 **South California Medical University**

 **Student Housing**

Sitting in front of the television in the common room, Xiaoli kept an eye out for Wanda in the audience of _The Next American Star_. She found her sitting between an African-American man and her nephew Chase. The guy she saw her with the other day was nowhere to be seen. It was a family thing. He was probably at home or her hotel waiting for her.

There were two contestants left to perform with two being kicked off tonight. It would take at least ninety minutes for Wanda and her family to return to the hotel.

"I'll just swallow my pride and go talk to her." Xiaoli grabbed her purse, jacket and keys. At the door, she made a quick about face. "Tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow." Stopping in the middle of the room, she wavered. "I'll run over now and leave her a note." She shook her head. "No. In person is better. Tomorrow. Yeah. For sure tomorrow."

 **The Next American Star Studio**

Leaning his chair back on two legs, Justin drank down a bottle of water waiting for the end to find out who would be eliminated. _Hope it's me_.

He stopped with the bottle halfway to his mouth at the tingling of his danger sense, the same presence as before, and it was close. Lowering the chair to the floor and keeping his movements casual, he set the bottle down and went for a stroll. The closer he got to the back of the studio the stronger he felt the presence, but now it was different. Masculine instead of feminine.

Justin felt power surging to his metal arm, winding its way through his body, preparing him for battle. Though he knew no one would see, he still pressed a hand to the forearm to stop it, knowing it was futile. It was what it was. No changing it.

Letting his sense take the lead, he followed it to the rear exit near the loading dock. He peeked through the window and saw several men in dirty jumpsuits moving supplies with a pair of forklifts. Easing the door open, he slipped between two stacks of shrink-wrapped supplies. Staying on the periphery of the room, his eyes darted here and there, seeking out the darker corners where danger often lurked.

He neared the loading dock and his danger sense was screaming. One of those men had to be the one he was looking for. Of course, the subject of his search could be just outside. The only way to know was to check, but there wasn't time for that.

He scanned the rafters three stories above and saw nothing. It wasn't his imagination. His special radar had never steered him wrong before. However, Justin didn't have time to do the thorough search necessary to flush the man out. He had to get back.

~~O~~

The man going by the name Emilio Gonzalez moved through the rafters, jumping from one cross strut to the other, keeping Lockwood in sight at all times until he left the dock. When he was certain he'd gone, Emilio jumped to the floor, rolling to disperse the energy of his fall, ending on his feet. He went to the door and looked through the window.

The hallway outside the dock was empty. The former asset wasn't lying in wait to engage him in battle. An altercation between them was a certainty, and would come at a time of Emilio's choosing, when it was most inconvenient for the asset and his loved ones. He gave not one thought to the pain they would suffer at losing him for a second time. The mission, the re-imprisonment of the asset, was the only thing that mattered. And soon, it would come to pass.

His feet making no sound on the carpeted floor of the hallway, Emilio crept toward the staging area. Observation of the asset was necessary to choose the moment of his recapture. A set of ropes hung to his left. They hadn't been used since the opening and closing of the curtains was switched over to computer control via a panel on the other side of the stage.

Bending his knees, Emilio jumped up to grab the ropes, pulling himself up to the overhead catwalks where he could see without being seen.

Leaning on the railing, he watched without emotion as the contestants, including the asset, moved out onto the stage for a final musical number. Briefly, the song touched a memory then it was gone, along with everything he'd been before his transformation. To others, his handler's obsession with regaining control over the former asset might have stirred more than a shred of misgiving, worry that he would be replaced. But such emotions were no longer a part of him, and he felt himself the better for it. No more was he beset by doubts, confusion, anxiety, lack of confidence, panic, or any other negative emotion. It was the same with positive emotions. He felt… nothing. No happiness, joy, pleasure… love.

He was the perfect asset. And once the previous asset was back in custody, the doctors would use his blood to make the man going by the name Emilio even more perfect. It was his destiny.

 **TBC**

"Bottom of the River" is a song by American fold rock band Delta Rae and was released in 2012.

"Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" is the second single by American singer Cher from her second album, _The Sonny Side of Cher_. Written by her then-husband Sonny Bono and released in 1966.

"Fly Me to the Moon", originally titled "In Other Words", is a song written in 1954 by Bart Howard. It has become a frequently recorded jazz standard often featured in popular culture. Frank Sinatra's 1964 version was closely associated with the Apollo missions to the Moon.

The Piano Sonata No. 32 in C minor, Op. 111, is the last of Ludwig van Beethoven's piano sonatas. Along with Beethoven's _33 Variations on a waltz by Anton Diabelli_ , Op. 120 (1823) and his two collections of bagatelles—Opus 119 (1822) and Opus 126(1823)—this was one of Beethoven's last compositions for piano. The work was written between 1821 and 1822. Like other late period sonatas, it contains fugal elements. It was dedicated to his friend, pupil, and patron, Archduke Rudolf.


	155. Chapter 155

**A/N:** Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. Many thanks also to my good friend, Winter-Soldier-88 who endured many brainstorming sessions late into the night and gave me much to think about as this story unfolds.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.  
― T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Echoes in the Memory**

 **Chapter 155**

The show ended, and while the credits rolled, Jimmy and his fellow judges talked among themselves. Even Alejandra, which was highly unusual. As with Amara's emergence from her shell, Jimmy attributed it to Justin's influence. His talent was unprecedented for the show, from what he'd seen the previous seasons. Justin could sing, dance, and play, as well as teach. The one hitch was his claim of being fluent in Urdu. English and the official language of Jimmy's home country were so vastly different that few mastered both.

"And… We're out," the producer announced. "Thanks, everyone. Another great show. See you next week."

Jimmy waved and made his way to the dressing room to which he'd been assigned. Unlike the contestants and presenters, the judges didn't have to share. He didn't mind, but Alejandra had insisted on having one to herself, so Monroe gave them each their own.

Behind the closed door, he tossed his jacket on a chair, dropped onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes, and lay down with his head on the arm, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He covered his eyes with his arm and let his mind wander to Justin's list of languages, mixed in with the sense that the man didn't want to be there, and absolutely didn't want to win. Why then did he go to such lengths to perform exceptionally well while at the same time doing the same for his competition?

In Jimmy's mind, the young man who claimed to be "just a construction worker" was so much more, and most certainly deserving of the win. It would take more than _his_ point of view to get it done though. Not that Jimmy would exert undue influence over the others, but it couldn't hurt to at least get their thoughts on the subject.

His wife's ringtone sounded loud in the quiet of the room. With a long sigh, he sat up and fished it out of his jacket pocket. "Perfect timing, Savera, my love. I was just thinking about you."

" _And I you,_ _Jamshed_ _._ "

"You saw the show?"

Savera's throaty laugh came through the phone, and as always, it made his insides tingle. " _I did, and you were your usual charming self._ " There was a muffled pause. " _You have more to ask of me_."

A little more awake now, Jimmy stretched out his legs, crossed at the ankles. "You know me too well. I've never traded on our unique relationship."

" _But…_ "

"Justin Lockwood."

" _Ah. Teacher's pet. You do not believe his claim of speaking our language_." There was a longer pause and when Savera came back, the bantering tone was gone, replaced by that which she used for business. " _I'll have one of my agents do a background check. Just him, or the immediately family?_ "

"Your intelligence agent's mind is piqued. Just him for the time being, unless something comes to light that necessitates looking into the backgrounds of the family members as well."

" _I will get back to you as soon as possible_."

Jimmy stretched and sat up. "Thank you. I'll call the children when I get to the hotel. Good night, my love."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **The Roof**

 **8:00 p.m.**

Sitting on the stairs with Eva and King, Wanda flipped the braid over her shoulder, watching the dark sky and listening to the crashing waves with misgiving. A storm was forecast for tonight and tomorrow, forcing the family into a change of plans. And they weren't the only ones. As far as she could see there wasn't a single bonfire, giving the beach a deserted feel, as though no one had ever been there at all. The sand would still tickle the bottoms of her feet, but she didn't want to get caught in the rain, putting an end to her thoughts of taking Aaron, Eva and King for a walk to have privacy.

King opened his mouth to speak and Eva shushed him, earning her a nod of thanks just as she felt the touch of a familiar mind. Aaron was on his way, and tonight, he would meet two of the resident ghosts. Three, if Sean decided to pop in unannounced, as he was prone to doing.

The door opened, and Wanda went to meet Aaron, giving him a quick kiss. She took his hand and led him to where Eva and King were now standing.

Aaron pointed at the door. "I've been meaning to ask how are you getting up here? The door's supposed to locked at all times, according to the sign."

Wanda created a constantly moving stream of psionic energy that wound its way through her fingers. It vanished, and she turned him away from the water. "If you're ready, Aaron."

"Yeah. I mean who wouldn't want to meet ghosts?" His eyes widened as King, followed by Eva, appeared before him. He swept his hands through their ethereal bodies. "Whoa."

"Hey! Watch it, my good man!" King exclaimed with annoyance.

She touched Aaron on the arm. "Please don't."

Chagrined, Aaron immediately stepped back. "Sorry. Guess that was kinds rude. Uh, I'm Aaron, by the way."

The smile that made her a household name in the thirties brightened Eva's flawless features. "It's such a pleasure to meet you at last, Aaron. I'm Evangeline Selfridge. You can call me Eva." She turned to her companion. "And this is Kingston Bennett."

Out of habit, Aaron extended his hand to shake, as did King. They all laughed, and King put that hand into his pocket. "King to my friends." He and Eva exchanged a glance. "Wanda's spoken to you of our request?"

Still in awe that he could see, hear and speak to the spirits, Aaron flicked a glance at Wanda and back. "Yeah. Uh, when she told me about you, at first, I thought she was…" he made a twirling motion next to his head, "…but now that I know about her powers, this part doesn't seem so crazy." Aaron got a confused yet thoughtful look in his eyes. "Wait. Evangeline Selfridge. The actress?"

Eva preened while Wanda and King chuckled. "One and the same, my dear boy. You've seen my films?"

"Yeah. Well, my mom's a big fan, and we sometimes watch together, or we did until I enrolled in university. Wow."

Wanda leaned against his side, holding his arm. "If you were alive, he would want an autograph and a selfie."

It was the ghost's turn to be confused. "Selfie?"

She took her phone out and moved to stand between them. "Cell phones allow you to take photos of yourself, alone or with others." Going back to Aaron's side, she handed him the phone. He put his arm around her, and she leaned on his shoulder, their heads close together. The flash blinked, and she carried it back to her friends. "See? Selfie."

King smiled at Eva. "Yet another thing to try while we're inhabiting your bodies. Provided you're agreeable, Aaron, my boy."

"I, uh… Can I think on it?"

Going to his side, Wanda held his hand. "Of course. No one would expect you to make such an important decision without thought." A few drops of rain splattered on the cement. "Let's go inside and find somewhere we can talk privately."

Aaron was startled again when the ghosts disappeared. "Wow. I mean… wow." They descended the stairs to the twenty-first floor and walked to the elevators. "Where're we going?"

"The lobby. As long as people think you're talking on the phone or to each other, no one will be the wiser."

"Right. So, uh, why are they still here? You said they died a long time ago."

The elevator stopped and a group of three got on. Wanda recognized them as Amara, her mother and the owner of the coffee shop. They didn't speak for the remainder of the ride.

In the lobby, Amara let her mother and David go ahead, and turned to Wanda. "I think my mother's had some sort of… I don't know, episode."

"Why would you say that?" Wanda asked.

Amara looked around and drew Wanda into a corner. "She's selling her business back home. Wants to move to California and open a surf shop." She gripped Wanda's hand. "This is the first time she's ever been _near_ a beach. She's spending her days at the shop she wants to buy, learning how to swim. Then, he's gonna teach her to scuba dive so she can be certified to teach and conduct tours and stuff. The guy's selling his house, and she's gonna buy that too. It's just up the road a piece."

Though they hadn't been introduced, Aaron made himself part of the conversation. "Your mom's probably going through a premature mid-life crisis. That's when someone has a sort of psychological," he made air quotes, "crisis. Some event in their lives reminds them of their mortality, which can cause depression and anxiety. Men buy expensive sports cars, divorce their wives, take up with women half their age, and/or participate in extreme sports. Women do something similar, or they might use the impetus to make drastic changes to their lifestyle where they ditch the boring job they've always hated but were too scared to give up for their dream job."

"B-but…"

"Amara?" Annalee came toward them with a curious smile. "Introduce me to your friends, honey."

The girl was speechless for a few moments before putting on a smile. "Mom, this is Justin's aunt, Wanda. Wanda, my mom." The women shook hands. "Um…"

"I'm Aaron. A friend of Wanda's. I work at California Brew Coffee Shop."

The older woman smiled in recognition. "That's why you look familiar. Annalee Orson. Please, call me Annalee." She turned to her daughter. "We're almost ready to order, but if you want to eat with your friends, that's fine."

Without giving Amara a chance to decide, Annalee returned to the dining room, leaving the trio looking dumbstruck. Amara cleared her throat. "I better go. She really likes David and wants me to get to know him."

The girl ran off, leaving Wanda, Aaron, and the ghosts alone. Pointing her chin at the far corner of the lobby, Wanda led the way with Aaron at her side. Eva and King were already seated on the small sofa. Wanda sat across from them and Aaron sat next to her, laying his phone on the table between them.

Wanda clasped her hands in her lap. "Who wants to start?"

~~O~~

"…So there I was on the arm of Junior Alford, who was just back in town after filming _Battle of Honor_ , which he later won an Oscar for his portrayal of the protagonist. My body was elegantly draped head to foot in the finest Mulberry silk, made specifically for me by French fashion designer Madeleine Vionnet. The color perfectly matched my skin tone and hair. My shoes were a series of narrow glittery straps atop four-inch Spanish heels and from which my toenails peeked. I was one of the first to ever have my toenails painted for a show." Eva breathed in the past and exhaled with a sigh. "And the jewelry! As it was my final strut down the runway for charity, it was my supreme pleasure to be wearing the most devine gold and diamond jewels Hjalmar Lund had ever created.

"Junior's in a De Gregorio tuxedo, looking so dapper, and a smile that made women melt and men wish they were him. As before, we came out onto the deck and casually strolled around the pool, photographers and the press snapping away. As we made the last turn, my heel caught in the carpet, and I fell into the shallow end of the pool, and Junior fell in when he tried to pull me out."

Wanda and Aaron were hiding laughter behind their hands. With an internal smirk, Eva dropped the _pièce de résistance_ in their laps.

"We sloshed over to the stairs and climbed out. The hotel staff were there with towels, and when Hjalmar saw that I'd lost the necklace in the pool, he screamed like a little girl and jumped in himself."

King, having heard the story before, covered his eyes with his hand and chuckled dutifully while Aaron and Wanda laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?"

Aaron's laughter abruptly cut off when Sean appeared. The poor boy had several shocks within a short time, but he was highly adaptable. He would cope just fine. Eva smiled brightly. "Sean, dear. Do join us."

Sean took the seat on the other side of Wanda. "'Sup, auntie?"

"Justin must be back from the studio."

"Nope. He tossed the pendant on his bed and went out again. Didn't say where."

Wanda nodded, and they all looked at Aaron while she made introductions. "Sean, this is my friend Aaron. Aaron, my nephew, Sean."

"Another nephew? And he's a _ghost_?"

Leaning back, Sean crossed one leg over the other. "So they tell me. Died of cancer just before Christmas."

Aaron watched Sean with a thoughtful stare. "You look kinda familiar."

Grinning, Sean slapped his own cheek. "I have that kind of face."

Wanda looked as if she had something to say but kept it to herself, saying instead, "Would you excuse us for a moment." She turned to Sean. "Come, nephew. We must talk."

King and Eva grinned at Aaron's startled expression when Sean vanished from the sofa and reappeared at the door that led to the deck surrounding the pool. Giving King's hand a squeeze, Eva nodded and disappeared as well, leaving King with Aaron for a short talk regarding their request in case the young man had questions.

To keep herself busy, Eva wandered over to the bar to watch the baseball game. She didn't much care for it, but King was a fan, and so she watched with him.

 **The Rogers Home**

Mia let herself and Sam into the house, hung her keys on the hook Alice and Steve had made and tossed her purse in the chair. "Joi! Steve! Alice! Family meeting!"

Sawing from the back yard quit and music in the kitchen shut off as Steve came in the back door, Joi pushed open the swinging kitchen door and Alice came down the stairs. Steve and Joi shared a confused glance, but that wouldn't last long once they heard what Mia had to say.

"What's going on, cuz?"

Mia gestured for them to sit and took the armchair across from the while Sam made himself scarce. She wanted him to stay, he was a part of this family now, like it or not, but this wasn't the time to make a scene. "I went to see the OB today. Didn't want you to know I'd been feeling these weird twinges for a couple of days. And if something was wrong…" The looks in their eyes said they wanted to chastise her for keeping it a secret while at the same time they were concerned, and not only for the baby's health. "Turns out it was just the baby moving around. Apparently, he's going to be a feisty little guy."

Steve's eyes widened. "Guy?"

Then, Alice jumped to her feet and ran to hug Mia. "That means he's a boy! I'm gonna be a big sister!"

Before she knew it, Mia was caught in a four-way hug. Joi was and wasn't happy. "I should've gone with you instead of Sam."

"Sam didn't go with me. We just got here at the same time. And I didn't want to worry you until I knew for sure if there was something wrong." They moved back to give her room to breathe. "Guess I'm a little paranoid. I really want this to work out for all of us. Know what I mean?"

"Of course we do, Mia." Steve retrieved the safety goggles from the coffee table. "Let me clean up my mess then we'll go out to dinner. How's that sound?"

Joi went to give Steve a kiss. "Perfect. Mmm. I love that you smell like sawdust."

Steve and Mia laughed as Steve went out the back door and Sam came from the kitchen. "Safe to come out?"

Mia's cousin hooked her hand around Sam's elbow. "Of course, Sam. And don't hide in the kitchen next time. You're part of this family too."

For some reason, Sam's smile seemed a little tight, like he was forcing himself to appear happy. They'd talk later, if he stayed the night. She felt so good about everything tonight, she wanted to make love with him and fall asleep in his arms. The only hitch in that plan was Sam would only engage in foreplay and oral sex, not intercourse. Mia had talked to the doctor today and was told there wouldn't be a problem with going for the home run as long as she felt comfortable. If she couldn't convince Sam it would be okay, she'd have the doctor talk to him.

 **The Barnes Family Home**

Bucky adjusted the heating pad behind Natasha's back. She gave him a smile and raised the recliner's footrest, sighing in pleasure.

"Better?"

"A little. Never used to get backaches. Now I have them all the time." She inhaled sharply and pressed a hand to her abdomen. "The Braxton Hicks contraction are the worst."

"Poor dear." Bucky pulled a chair up next to her and lightly rubbed her stomach. "Where's Pietro?"

Natasha scooted around to get more comfortable, adding a grunt on the end. "Out with Ivy again."

He knew she'd read the concern in his eyes. "They're spending too much time together."

Another grunt was followed by a long sigh. "She's his first girlfriend. Leave them alone."

"I'm _trying_. I don't ask question when he comes in late or complain when he's online with her until all hours, as long as he grades are good."

"His grades are good enough to get into a good college. "Dexter jumped in Bucky's lap, using it to get to Natasha. "Hello, Dex. Come for pets, love?" She lightly scratched the kitten under the chin and the side of his neck making him purr. "You're worried they're sleeping together."

Bucky's mouth dropped open. "I am _now_! Why'd you _say_ that?"

"Because you're thinking it. If they are sleeping together, as long as they take precautions, there's nothing to worry about."

"But what if they _aren't_?"

The warning look in her eyes hit him too late to take it back. "James, leave him alone. And when Wanda comes home, do not quiz her about the boy she's been seeing in California."

Shaking his head, Bucky paced to the other side of the room and turned back, arms crossed. "A _boy_? What happened to the girlfriend?"

"They broke up. Xiaoli is still conflicted about being lesbian. Wanda was as well, but she's since come to terms with her sexuality."

"Well, _I_ haven't! At least when she was seeing a girl there wasn't a chance she'd get pregnant. Now she's on the other side of the country where we can't keep an eye on her."

Pulling herself upright, Natasha put the footrest down and Bucky rushed to help her stand. "Leave it alone, James. She knows all about how babies are made and will take steps to prevent it. If she does get pregnant, we'll deal with the situation then. Don't make yourself sick with 'what ifs'." Natasha pulled her top down to cover her stomach. "Help me to the bathroom. I have to pee again."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

Sitting in the car, Xiaoli debated with herself once again about speaking to Wanda, going over what she would say, how to say it, and what she ultimately wanted out of this journey of self-discovery.

Did she want to ask forgiveness for being stupid while they were dating? Beg her to come back when they could only have a long distance relationship? And what about that _guy_? Same thing.

If Justin got voted off, they'd go back to D.C. and he'd still be here on the opposite coast, just like her, both pining for someone they couldn't have.

"You're being an _idiot_. Just go inside and talk to her."

Her pep talk over, Xiaoli got out of the car, locked the doors and marched into the lobby with her head held high. She sagged at seeing Wanda go out the back door carrying her phone. Not wanting to interrupt her phone call, she looked for a place to sit in the lobby and saw him, the guy, sitting alone. He was on the phone too, nodding in response to what the other person was saying.

 _I should come back later_. She shook her head. _No, if I don't do this now, I'll chicken out again_.

Xiaoli found a seat where she could see Wanda through the window. She took a seat at a table and seemed to be talking to the empty chair across from her. But that would be too weird even for _her_.

Wanda's boyfriend got up, gesturing as if telling someone to go ahead then crossed to the back door and joined Wanda on the deck. They spoke for a few moments and came inside, going straight to the elevator.

Wondering what was going on, Xiaoli decided to wait for them to come back down, even if she lost sleep.

 **Room 2104**

Before they arrived at the room, Wanda sent a quick ping to find out where Justin was and discovered he wasn't at the hotel or anywhere close by. Puzzled, but not willing to invade his privacy, she let them in and shut the door. Eva and King were already waiting. "You will be happy to know that Aaron has agreed to your proposal."

The ghostly couple were relieved and happy at the same time. King wrapped an arm around Eva's shoulders. "When?"

Aaron stepped forward. "I don't have anywhere to be for a couple of days, so why not start now?"

"You might want to wait until the rain stops."

Eva was nearly bubbling over with excitement. "Nonsense. You're here. We're here. Let's do it tonight. I do have one concern."

"As do I," King added. "While we're occupying your bodies, will we be able to…"

Wanda smiled knowingly. "You want to know if we'll be able to read each other's thoughts." The red mist formed at her fingertips. "I will, for want of a better description, render Aaron and I unconscious. You'll sense us there, but it will be like we are sleeping. We won't know anything that you've done unless you tell us."

Eva nodded, taking it all in. "And we're agreed. A full twenty-four hours."

"More, if you want it." Taking Aaron's hand, she led him over to sit on the side of her bed. "Once we're asleep, feel free to inhabit our bodies." She held up a finger. "No smoking or drinking."

Aaron spoke up. "Ditto. Don't want my mom to get wind of this. And if you get me drunk and I end up in jail, well, I could lose my scholarship."

King held up a hand. "Worry not, young people. We solemnly promise not to do anything that will physically or mentally affect your lives. Eva, darling?"

"Agreed. Whenever you're ready."

Touching her fingers to Aaron's forehead, Wanda sent a thin stream of psionics into the sleep center of his brain. He fell back on the bed, lightly snoring. Closing her eyes, Wanda did the same to herself. She felt the sensation of falling and that was the end.

~~O~~

Moving to the side of the bed, Eva and King looked down at the sleeping couple. They shared a glance and a smile. King briefly gripped Eva's hand. "We've been invited. Shall we, my dear?"

She nodded. "On three. One…"

"Two…"

Together, they said, "Three!" and merged their spiritual bodies with those on the bed.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Secret Medical Unit**

Leaning on the walker for balance, Pepper slowly made her way to the end of the hall with the physical therapist at her side and Happy walking behind her with the wheelchair. She was fully dressed for the first time since coming out of the coma. The clothing had sensors imbedded in the fabric that helped to stimulate the nerves and strengthen the muscles even while she was at rest.

The therapist urged her to sit and set the walker out of the way. "Rest a bit, Ms. Potts, and we'll go again.

"Thank you, Owen." The man left them alone, and Pepper smiled at Happy. "Wanna give a girl a push?"

"My pleasure, Ms. Potts."

She huffed good-naturedly. "Told you to call me Pepper, Happy." He pushed her slowly down the hallway. "Where's Tony?"

"Not sure. Said he had some business to attend to." They rode in silence for a few steps. "How're you doing getting caught up?"

Pepper shrugged one shoulder. "A lot's happened. Shouldn't take much longer." The automatic doors at the end of the hall opened at their approach. "Tell me about the terrorist attack in D.C."

Feeling his reluctance, she reached back to pat his hand. Happy took a deep breath and let it out, obviously not wanting to rehash the events. Then, he spoke. "It's all there in the news reports. Ms. Potts and I, the other Ms. Potts, were in Amsterdam at the time. The boss and Dr. Banner were incommunicado in the lab. Besides, it was over so quickly, they and the other Avengers couldn't have helped. SI was part of the clean-up."

"Does that mean you don't have an opinion?"

"Always. Boss didn't ask for it."

For the first time since waking up, Pepper burst out laughing. "When has that ever stopped you?"

Happy pushed the wheelchair over to a bench and sat down. "HYDRA. It grew inside SHIELD since the Red Skull was supposedly killed by Captain Rogers. That happened during WWII. All this time, they've been all about secrecy. Waiting for the right moment to take over the world." Pepper gestured for him to go on. "Then why send this Winter Soldier after Nick Fury in public? He's been thought of as a myth so why now? HYDRA could've waited a couple of days and it would've been all over. They'd be holding seven billion people hostage with those gunships and any country that didn't comply would be dust by now. Why jump the gun like that? Why not have the Winter Soldier take Fury out quietly, the way he's been operating since the forties?"

"I see what you're getting at. From what I've read, HYDRA wasn't prone to panicking. It's not logical for them to attempt an assassination so publicly, so why now?"

"As I see it, launching Insight early was like putting their heads on the chopping block and handing Captain Rogers the axe. I still think he went about it all wrong. His and Agent Romanoff's first calls should've been the rest of the Avengers."

Pepper rubbed her biceps, thinking. "Thor's probably on Asgard or out of the country with Dr. Foster, but Jarvis should've informed Tony what was going on. Even if Agent Barton couldn't get there, surely the four of them could've stopped HYDRA without all that bloodshed."

Happy raised his hands in a helpless gesture, letting them slap his thighs. "Won't get answers without speaking to Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff. It's been almost a year and they aren't talking, except to the president's special committee." He chuckled. "Someone leaked a clip of Agent Romanoff's testimony. She told them they could kiss her… backside."

"Nat would."

They looked around as Tony came out the automatic doors. "Not tryin' to steal my girl, are you, Happy?"

"Course not, boss." Happy vacated his seat and Tony slid into it. "I gotta go anyway. Um, _she'll_ be calling soon."

Now that she was awake, Happy didn't know what to call the life-model decoy, and he was a terrible liar.

Pepper gave Tony a smile when he took her hand. "How'd you like to get out of here for a few hours?"

Relief washed over her. "I'd love it, but what about the LMD? And won't the press think it odd that I'm somehow in two different places at the same time?"

Looking proud, Tony pushed her chair toward the doors. "Already took care of that. At this moment, the LMD Pepper has taken a short LOA to spend time with her new fiancé."

Puzzled, Pepper look at him over her shoulder. "But we're not engaged. Won't the council ask questions when she returns without a ring?"

They got on the elevator and the doors closed. But instead of going down to the medical unit, the car went up. "It's been taken care of. Before you change, there's a stop we have to make."

A few minutes later, Tony pushed her into the smaller of his cybernetic labs where Bruce was waiting. He smiled as he came to her side. "Good news. We've completed a new program for the cybersuit. Not my idea to call it that, by the way." Bruce held up a data strip. "Once this is downloaded, we'll have increased your mobility to between seventy-five and eighty percent." He raised a hand to stop her from asking the questions in her head. "You won't be able to run a marathon or do any heavy lifting, but your ability to move freely will be substantially increased."

Tony butted in. "In other words, Pep, dinner and dancing tonight. Just you and me. Now before you say no, I should point out that I've already made reservations at that little Italian place we like."

"Tony! That's in _Rome_."

"Exactly. Take-off is in three hours, so chop-chop."

 **Sudbury Court Inn**

 **Room 2104**

Eva blinked and sat up while King did the same next to her. She looked it over, seeing him through Wanda's eyes. "King?"

Hearing herself speaking in Wanda's voice startled her at first. King too, to go by his expression.

He reached out to touch her cheek. "Is that really you, darling?"

Used to King's deeper tones, hearing him speak with Aaron's slightly higher pitch threw her off a bit. She pressed his hand to her cheek and could feel Wanda's body reacting to the familiar touch. "Mm-hm. It's odd being able to really feel and see and smell for the first time in decades."

"I believe the kids these days call it creepy, meaning the same as getting the heebie-jeebies."

Eva couldn't help it. She laughed and pulled him close. "That sounds so strange in Aaron's voice." They leaned apart, keeping hold of each other's hands. "What shall we do first, darling?"

Outside, the rain pattered softly against the windows. They looked at each other with excitement. King jumped to his feet and pulled her up beside him. "Take a walk in the rain?"

"Yes! Let's do!"

The couple ran down the hall to the stairs and quickly made their way to the first floor. Without a second thought, they left through the back door. By the time they reached the beach, they were soaked to the skin, but didn't care. They were finally together.

~~O~~

The stairwell door burst open, expelling Wanda and that guy. Holding hands, they ran toward the back door. If Xiaoli let them leave, she'd chicken out again. She jumped to her feet. "Wanda!"

The couple kept going, out the back door, across the deck, disappearing in the dark. Xiaoli raced after them, stopping in the middle of the wooden sidewalk that led to the beach. The rain came down harder, soaking her within minutes while she glanced dejectedly in all directions, not seeing anyone. The temporary color in her hair made yellow and green drips on the water soaked wood and were washed away almost immediately.

Without going inside, Xiaoli walked around the side of the hotel to her car, sitting for a few moments with her hands on the steering wheel and her forehead pressing against them.

~~O~~

Dalton sensed a living body that would work to his advantage. The man was a true believer but didn't wear a talisman that would prevent him from taking what he wanted. He'd listened to the hunters talking in their room, saying how there were only two ways to leave this place: someone would have to take something of his from here, meaning he would have to go where they went, or moving on, spending eternity in hell, most likely. He favored the first option, modified.

He would possess a living person and have them carry a personal object that would allow him to leave. With the knowledge of his host, he would track down the one who killed him and take his revenge. It was unfortunate that he'd been dead for more than fifty years.

His murderer was likely dead, and so Dalton would have to settle for killing their descendants. Whatever got the job done.

Keeping a sharp eye out, he waited for him to return and was soon rewarded. The couple came up the sidewalk, stopping under the overhang to share a kiss. _Make it good, pal. It's gonna be your last_.

 **TBC**


End file.
